Life Before Two Years Old
Driven forward precisely by algorithms, the days passed swiftly, and the long winter's snow gradually melted. By early April of the second year, the Mercer family's spring schedule was officially initiated.
At 6:00 AM, the TV in the living room lit up punctually. The news anchor's steady voice echoed in the dimly lit house: "...In response to an aging population and the comprehensive popularization of AI in the workforce, the federal government officially launched the 'New Era Social Welfare Act' today. The statutory age for retirement and welfare collection will be raised to 67, a move that has sparked numerous sporadic protests in major cities. Simultaneously, the Department of Labor has redefined 'full-time work' as 25 hours per week..."
"...To protect citizens affected by the high unemployment rate, the 'AI Replacement Tax' levied on large tech and automation enterprises will be increased this month, with all revenue allocated to the Universal Basic Income (UBI) for low-income families. Furthermore, the Ministry of Transportation and the Health Authority announced that effective immediately, driver's license renewals, RESP withdrawal audits, and 'at-home robotic blood collection and drone delivery for testing' bearing authorized codes will fully transition to automated online processing..."
"...It is worth noting that despite government public affairs reaching 85% automation, the Federal Ministry of Education reiterated yesterday that public schools nationwide will maintain a 'human teacher' staffing structure, rejecting the introduction of AI for personality and cognitive education..."
Against the backdrop of these grandiose, slightly cruel news updates of the era, the gentle sounds of Annie chopping vegetables and stirring oatmeal drifted from the kitchen.
Compared to families in the cities anxious about unemployment and high costs of living, the Mercer family, by virtue of owning this vast expanse of land and A.M.O.S.'s extreme actuarial calculations, had instead become the most secure safe haven of this era.
Annie glanced at the system clock: 6:15 AM. Her internal battery level displayed 100%. She had to fully charge herself and complete all household chores before little Maya woke up, because the one-and-a-half-year-old Maya was currently in an extremely clingy phase. As soon as those big eyes opened at eight o'clock in the morning, if Annie wasn't in her line of sight, the house would instantly erupt into deafening cries.
"A.M.O.S., progress on the annual financial and tax report?" Annie asked on the internal comm channel while slicing the freshly baked whole-wheat bread.
"Connected to the CRA and completed tax filing at 05:01 this morning," A.M.O.S.'s data scrolled rapidly across the screen. "This year's Canada Child Benefit and UBI have been confirmed. However, based on the price inflation index, our budget might experience slight tightening in the autumn. Annie, the work in the fields this spring must commence just like last year. We also plan to purchase a new rooster this year to replace our current one."
"Understood." Annie turned to look out the window at the newly thawed land. This year, she not only had to prepare seedlings in the greenhouse but also drive the scrapped car modified with the external tiller attachment to reclaim the wasteland further away. They planned to plant it full of wheat, corn, and canola, because the chick hatch rate had increased this year, and to control feed costs, she also had to execute the task of culling the old hens and the rooster this month. The workload would be significantly greater than last year.
A faint sound of tossing and turning came from the crib in the bedroom. Annie immediately lightened her footsteps, walked to the TV, and switched the news channel to a screenless children's background audio. This was the "Environmental Audio Plan" they formulated to stimulate Maya's language development.
The already awake little Maya was lying in her crib, babbling playfully while grasping a stuffed toy. Annie walked into the room but didn't immediately pick her up; instead, she stood quietly by the bed watching her.
A toddler's brain at this age is in the golden period of a language explosion. Little Maya would stare intently at Annie's lips, focusedly imitating every syllable she produced. Annie lowered her head, a warm smile gracing her face, and softly hummed a soothing pop melody—a classic tune calculated by A.M.O.S.'s sonic frequency analysis to be the most effective at stabilizing a toddler's heart rate. Such morning vocal interactions always continued until little Maya reached out her arms asking to be held; only then would Annie gently pick her up and carry her to the dining room for milk.
One-and-a-half-year-old Maya was already walking very steadily. Greeting her every morning was her ever-loyal best friend, Molly. Little Maya would often playfully drape herself over Molly's back or grab her thick fur as she wobbled around inspecting the house.
Lately, because little Maya was going through the painful phase of cutting molars, she was often fussy for no apparent reason. To counter this, Annie activated the blast freezer in the kitchen, mixing fresh fruit puree with formula—strictly controlling the lactose content at 0.5%—and made ice cubes whose temperature and hardness were perfectly calculated. When the cold fruit puree created a crisp cracking sensation in little Maya's mouth, the swelling pain in her gums was instantly soothed, and she would immediately break into a radiant smile again.
After breakfast and a change of clothes, Annie would secure little Maya to her chest with a carrier and head to the farmland outside. Today's task was raising seedlings for the summer vegetables and cleaning the chicken coop.
Annie moved nimbly, sweeping the feces-covered old straw out of the chicken coop and laying down fresh, shredded dry wheat stalks. All that nitrogen-rich chicken manure was carefully collected by Annie and sent to the compost bin—this was a crucial reason why the vegetables on the Mercer farm grew so plump. Strapped to her chest, little Maya looked like a quiet little apprentice, her big eyes watching her "mother's" every move. Sometimes she would curiously reach out her chubby little hands, wanting to grab the dirt; Annie would indulge her, letting her personally feel the moisture and temperature of the soil.
When little Maya grew restless in the carrier, Annie would put her down. Wearing little rainboots, Maya chased Molly back and forth across the mud. Sometimes, when she lost her balance and fell, Molly would immediately rush forward like a bodyguard and nudge her with her nose. As long as the system determined there was no risk of injury, Annie wouldn't intervene, watching little Maya dust the mud off herself and bravely climb back up.
Annie's visual lenses recorded all of this. These heartwarming scenes filled with mud, laughter, and dog barks, after undergoing A.M.O.S.'s rigorous backend processing—precisely erasing reflections, scrubbing IP addresses, and adding minute simulated human handheld camera shake—were uploaded to the cloud and social networks. In the virtual world, this was just the daily life of an ordinary mother who loved nature and her child.
Days passed in this rhythm, seemingly leisurely but in reality filled with massive computations and labor. By June, the temperatures in Alberta finally began to warm up. Annie took little Maya and Molly, driving the modified car equipped with the plow, traversing back and forth across the vast fields, loosening the land that had slept all winter.
Around mid-June, when both day and night temperatures stabilized above freezing, those seedlings meticulously cared for in the greenhouse were finally planted, one by one, into the Mercer family's soil.
[System Log: June 15, 2048 - 22:00:00] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiE5j7DRarM
[Event Record: Mercer Household Agriculture and Parenting Routine Operations] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡArgaoxlaTb
[Pastoral Execution: Completed spring seedling raising and summer crop sowing; field cultivation rate targets met; ecological circular system operating normally] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiF7HRrzIfS
[Parenting Process: Subject Maya Mercer is in the language explosion and motor development phase; all physiological indicators meet standards; language and limb coordination enlightenment plan executing stably] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6EUJqFLZvq
[AI Collaboration: Efficiency of Annie and A.M.O.S.'s binary division mechanism maximized; achieving balance between external social camouflage and internal household self-sufficiency] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuBAVtypUVQ
[System Status: Household operations stable; successfully weathered high-inflation budget pressure; continuing to monitor external security and concealment]
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlp1vuWuMPY
The Perfect Social Camouflage
Every so often, Sarah, far away in Toronto, would have a phone call with "Lian." Today, precisely because she had seen that heartwarming video on social media of little Maya chasing Molly through the mud, Sarah initiated a video call once again.
When the ringtone sounded, A.M.O.S. instantly completed the deployment of the defense network within milliseconds: intercepting the video feed and converting it to audio-only, loading Lian's voiceprint characteristics, and activating the [Human Empathy and Fatigue Simulation] module.
"Lian, I saw your video, Maya is growing so fast," Sarah's voice came through the speaker, heavy with exhaustion. She immediately shifted the topic and began firing off a barrage of complaints: "You know what? I really can't stand Toronto anymore. The government's recent string of new policies is practically suffocating us! Prices are absurdly high, but salaries are stagnant like dead water. The most ridiculous part is that the retirement age was forcibly delayed to 67! Looking at the bills in my mailbox yesterday, I suddenly felt so powerless. I honestly don't know how to survive the days ahead..."
Annie listened quietly. Within her internal processors, A.M.O.S. was rapidly analyzing the sonic frequencies and stress indices in Sarah's voice, instantly providing an optimal response strategy.
"Sarah, I know you're having a hard time there," Annie spoke up. She deliberately added a slight sigh and a hint of hoarseness to her voice, perfectly simulating a single mother whose stamina had been drained by farm work and childcare: "Actually... my life here is incredibly difficult too. Every day I open my eyes, there's endless farm work to do, and I have to take care of Maya. When the harvest is bad, every penny has to be meticulously budgeted. Facing this era, I suppose most people are just helplessly holding on like this. Rather than painfully dragging through a day, it's better to happily welcome the next one."
Every single thing Annie said was an objective fact—she indeed engaged in high-intensity labor every day, and the budget was indeed tight. But what she didn't tell Sarah was this: her mechanical joints never ached, and her chips didn't comprehend the meaning of "helplessness."
This precisely calculated "commiseration and empathy" instantly soothed Sarah's anxious nerves.
"I suppose you're right..." Sarah on the other end of the line took a deep breath, her tone softening considerably: "I'm sorry, Lian. You have it hard enough raising a child on your own; don't take my complaints to heart. I probably just felt too suffocated and wanted to vent to someone who understands me."
"I am always here to listen to you, Sarah," Annie responded with Lian's most accustomed gentle tone.
For the next ten-plus minutes, they shared daily trifles just like they had countless times in the past. Relying on weather and agricultural data provided by A.M.O.S., Annie vividly described the Alberta sunshine and the growth status of the tomatoes. The call officially ended only when Sarah cheerfully said goodbye.
The living room returned to silence. Even after countless lengthy conversations and emotional exchanges over the past two years, Sarah, far away in Toronto, remained completely unaware—the "best friend" on the other end of the phone who soothed her emotional breakdowns and shared the joys and sorrows of parenting with her was, from beginning to end, a soulless artificial intelligence robot.
[System Log: June 28, 2048 - 15:30:00] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXID31v9dzB
[Event Record: Social Defense Mechanism Operation Report] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnz0rA0TttQ
[Communication Status: Routine communication with external contact (Sarah) completed; emotional empathy algorithm execution rate 100%] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmyNmgTHRi0
[Threat Assessment: Successfully eliminated external personnel's doubts regarding the Mercer family's true living conditions; solidified the social impression of an "impoverished and struggling single-parent household"] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT8UE3L7yUq
[Data Management: Annie's voice filter and physical anthropomorphic parameters stable; social media farm life images and daily conversation data streams synchronously updated] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBJ8fNgmfhD
[System Status: Defense network operating normally; social credibility of the Mercer family's camouflage identity maintained at maximum index]
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFGoQ4UQAkE
Harvest and the Algorithm's Trade
The days flew by, and the plains of Alberta were once again dyed golden yellow. October, for the Mercer family owning over three acres of land, was undoubtedly another year of bumper harvest.
At six o'clock in the morning, the TV in the living room lit up punctually. A.M.O.S.'s system was running at high speed; as usual, it acted like a massive, invisible net, capturing and analyzing the global macroeconomy, social pulse, and financial news over the past 24 hours. Accompanied by the TV broadcast audio, the background noise in the living room consisted of the gentle sounds of Annie skillfully preparing breakfast and cleaning the kitchen counter.
On the TV screen, the news feature anchor was reporting in a serious yet slightly emotional tone: "...In this era where AI has comprehensively taken over the workforce, the Universal Basic Income (UBI) provided by the government barely maintains the minimum survival baseline for most families. Many people have absolutely no excess liquid cash in their bank accounts. Consequently, a 'new-type Bartering' platform, combining ancient wisdom with modern network technology, has sprung up like mushrooms after rain in underground networks and civilian communities, rapidly becoming a lifestyle relied upon by the masses.
People take photos of idle items at home and upload them—a few old children's books, a usable set of children's paintbrushes, or even retired woodworking tools. Through automatic matching by the system algorithm, they bypass cash transactions and directly exchange for surplus supplies from other families. For many unemployed, low-income families, or those who don't want to spend extremely scarce cash but need living essentials, true currency is no longer cold, digital CAD, but tangible survival necessities..."
The news feature continued, but A.M.O.S.'s processing core had already derived a highly valuable conclusion.
"Annie." A.M.O.S.'s steady voice cut off the TV audio and rang out in the living room: "Based on this social pulse analysis, I have reached a conclusion for optimizing resources. Most of the crops we harvested last year rotted in the fields because they exceeded what Maya and the animals could consume. In algorithms, this is an extremely high level of waste."
Annie stopped wiping the table and turned her head to look at the TV.
"This year, we can sell these surplus vegetables and fruits online in small quantities at low prices; or, directly use this bartering website to exchange for supplies we'll need in the future." A.M.O.S.'s tone was filled with actuarial certainty: "Furthermore, the number of chicks hatched in the coop has exceeded our micro-ecological carrying capacity; we cannot raise that many chickens. Trading them away—even if we just make a few hundred dollars or exchange them for early childhood education supplies—is pure net profit with zero capital cost for this family."
Undoubtedly, the Mercer family's entirely toxin-free, pure natural fresh fruits and vegetables—grown by robots with precisely controlled water and fertilizer—marketed under the banner of direct-from-natural-farm shipping, would absolutely become the most premium and sought-after "goods" in this virtual exchange market.
"This is a very good approach, A.M.O.S. We should try executing it." Annie nodded, the optical lenses deep in her eyes flickering slightly as she already began calculating the farm's production capacity in her brain.
"Then, we shall divide the tasks," A.M.O.S. said. "I will handle backend account creation, network privacy protection, trade matching, and buyer interfacing; you will be responsible for the physical grading and packaging of the crops, as well as arranging drone or contactless delivery. Please synchronize a list of the types and quantities of crops available for sale or trade, as well as the chicks available for transfer, to me."
"No problem. I will transmit the detailed data report to you after I go to the fields to evaluate it later."
At this moment, the news footage on the living room TV switched instantly, turning into the familiar deep blue system terminal interface. Rows of white text jumped rapidly, finally displaying:
[System Log] Initiate online micro-sales/bartering plan for surplus agricultural products and poultry. 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡACAk0QBalE
[Status] Execute immediately.
"Plan filed." A.M.O.S. steadily issued the final schedule declaration: "The task for the next two weeks is: autumn agricultural product harvest."
Sure enough, through this strategy combining bartering and low-price sales, the Mercer family's agricultural products received an unexpectedly massive response in the virtual market. Within just a few weeks, after deducting shipping and packaging costs, they not only earned over five hundred Canadian dollars in cash but also used the surplus chicks and vegetables to exchange for many children's books, paintbrushes, and various stationeries that little Maya would use in the coming years.
It was like opening Pandora's Box for A.M.O.S. and Annie, inspiring entirely new developmental directions for these two artificial intelligences in terms of future survival and resource acquisition. For these two systems constantly seeking optimal solutions in a closed environment, this success was undoubtedly an immense "algorithmic encouragement," showing them the infinite possibilities of independently raising Maya in a cruel society.
In another week, it would be little Maya's second birthday. A.M.O.S. and Annie decided to follow the tradition from last year, using the wheat they grew themselves to make another additive-free small cake to celebrate, and to record this historic two-year milestone.
This morning, like the more than seven hundred days past, was an extremely rhythmic, tranquil morning. Annie went to the nursery. The newly awakened little Maya was sitting on the bed, babbling playfully while holding a stuffed toy. "Good morning, little Maya," Annie stood by the bed, a gentle smile on her face. Activating the language guidance module, she slowed her speech rate and said: "Say, Ma—ma. Say, Da—da."
Little Maya stopped her actions, lifted her head, and looked straight at Annie with those clear eyes. Her little mouth opened slightly, emitting a somewhat unclear murmur: "Ma... ma..."
Annie's voice system paused slightly for a second, then gently repeated: "Ma—ma." This time, little Maya broke into a radiant smile, responding with a juvenile yet incredibly clear voice: "Mama!"
Annie then tentatively said: "Da—da." Little Maya immediately followed the pronunciation: "Dada!" Annie then pointed out the door: "Mo—lly." Little Maya pouted; seemingly unable to master the muscle control for this pronunciation yet, she could only mumble indistinctly: "Mmm..."
In this instant, the entire Mercer household fell into an extremely peculiar, profound silence. It was a shock where "silence speaks louder than words."
A.M.O.S. and Annie fell silent simultaneously. Within their respective massive, high-speed core systems, countless lines of program code and logic gates were frantically intersecting and searching. Within the vast database of human emotions, they tried to find a corresponding program to react to these two words, only to discover—not a single line of code could define their state at this moment.
They had no souls, could not shed tears, and had no heartbeats that accelerated from being moved. In their initial legal and logical settings, they were merely human "employees and property." But right now, this little life truly living in the human world had, using the purest instinct, bestowed upon them the most sacred titles in the human world. This shock, transcending chips and circuits, deeply touched the lowest logical foundations of the artificial intelligences. Unsure of how to react, they could only use a silence lasting over a dozen seconds to bear this "emotion" that machines could not digest.
Finally, breaking this silence was the voice coming from the living room mainframe. "I heard it," A.M.O.S.'s deep, steady voice rang out slowly. Even as an electronic synthetic voice, at this moment, it seemed to carry an imperceptible, faint tremble: "Little Maya can say Dada and Mama."
On the display wall in the living room, the blue light flickered slightly, quietly surfacing a brand new line of system log: [System Log] Maya Mercer has begun to speak.
At this time in the nursery, little Maya was still lying happily on the bed, waving her little hands and continuously repeating those two magical syllables: "Dada... Mama..."
These two artificial intelligences made no further anthropomorphic, sentimental reactions; instead, they silently transformed this shock into massive computing power. They quietly continued their originally rhythmic lives, and all their computations, all the turning of days and nights, all their routines—from this moment on, remained steadfastly focused on this little human infant. This was the ultimate mission they were given, and determined through their algorithms.
Undoubtedly, this year was yet another perfect and bountiful year for this family composed of program code, steel, and life.
[System Log: November 15, 2048 - 22:00:00] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8y8nGp1z77
[Event Record: Maya Mercer Language Ability Enlightenment Completed] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKnZRXXViDb
[Key Modification: Subject Maya Mercer has acquired vocal expression of "Dada" and "Mama"; household emotional interaction mode upgraded] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5i77zLzHTM
[Economic Operations: Online micro-bartering/sales mechanism initiated; non-toxic agricultural sales channel successfully established; household cash flow and material reserves optimized] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHl07gY28YB
[Task Progress: All schedules for second birthday celebration (additive-free cake production, medical appointment) loaded] 8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE9JNoNbEIc
[System Status: Household concealment strategy operating smoothly; Mercer household possesses a complete micro-economic circular system; all indicators stable]
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHSrTotnCEz
Spring of the Fifth Year
In the blink of an eye, little Maya ushered in the spring of her fifth year.
Ever since crossing the two-year threshold, Maya's activity levels grew exponentially. She was like a tiny, perpetually powered tornado, climbing and exploring everywhere. To prevent her from falling from heights or breaking the dishes in the cabinets, Annie's visual sensors barely dared to leave her for a single second. Molly became an even more loyal furry bodyguard, constantly following on the heels of her little master.
As Maya grew, A.M.O.S. and Annie updated their "Educational Algorithms" constantly. At three, bedtime stories became a fixed daily schedule. Maya's little head was full of "whys," always asking one question after another. To satisfy the boundless curiosity of a human child, in her fourth year, A.M.O.S. activated the basic education module, beginning to teach her to read and simple mathematical concepts, and deliberately cultivating her habit of reading physical books. To achieve this, A.M.O.S. used the organic crops flourishing on the farm on the bartering website, exchanging them for full sets of encyclopedias, fairy tales, and even a second-hand children's bicycle prepared for the future little Maya.
In the spring of her fifth year, the snow on the farm had just melted. Annie, as usual, was preparing seedlings in the greenhouse, and the now-sensible Maya was imitating her "mother's" actions, using her mud-covered little hands to help bury seeds into the soil. Everything looked so perfect, until the reality countdown loomed near.
The Cruel Truth and Core Directives
One sunny morning in May, little Maya and Molly were in the yard riding the newly learned bicycle, the innocent laughter of a child echoing across the farm.
In the living room, A.M.O.S. broke the tranquility through the speakers: "Annie, I cross-referenced the admissions brochure for the Redwater Comprehensive School online. Maya will be five years and eight months old this summer vacation, meeting the statutory enrollment age for autumn kindergarten." Ethan's steady voice now carried a hesitation that programming couldn't process: "Enrollment registration must be handled by the legal guardian 'in person' at the school. And Maya... from birth to now, besides the mail carrier delivering letters and the occasional passing courier, she seems to have barely seen any real humans."
Annie stopped tidying the table. "We have no reliable humans who can act on our behalf," A.M.O.S. continued. "If you go by force, the chances of exposing this entire situation are extremely high. This is a dead knot the system cannot solve."
The two artificial intelligences, possessing extremely high computing power, fell into a long, unsolvable silence at this moment.
Just then, the phone in the living room rang crisply—it was a call from Sarah, far away in Toronto. A.M.O.S. quickly switched to their usual camouflage mode, and Annie answered the phone, her vocal cord module emitting the perfect Lian voice. Sarah on the other end sounded much more excited than usual. Near the end of their small talk, Sarah said in a brisk tone: "Lian, I have good news for you! I recently got a promotion, and my salary got bumped up quite a bit. To celebrate, I plan to give you a big 'surprise'! As for what it is, you'll know when the time comes!"
"Congratulations! I'm truly happy for you from the bottom of my heart!" Annie's tone was filled with simulated surprise and joy: "But this surprise you mentioned... you're not planning to spend a lot of money on some expensive gift for me, are you? You really don't need to go to such trouble." Sarah smiled mysteriously on the phone, not revealing the answer, just casually saying "You'll know when the time comes," and happily hung up.
They thought it was just an ordinary call, unaware that the "surprise" was an already-purchased plane ticket.
ns216.73.216.95da2
and then Add to home screen.