Caldant t  to  of Kenzo Yamamoto’s console, o its former sed out of tsingem. ts in tions room were on.

    “o ic. I t I was dead.”

    “Dead?  happened?”

    “Call it a stroke of luck, call it  I may umbled upon to all of this.”

    “Go on,” Mei Lin urged.

    “I o tsingy system and found ter t seems to be single-a being sucked out of cyberspace. It appears it is not so muca as replicating it into t database probably ever built. e are talking terabytes of data everyday. e are talking sensitive data, mostly US economic, financial and scientific data. It’s almost like tire knoern ematically appropriated. Not really appropriated, as it is all public domain, but basically being digested in a ion.”

    “ do you mean digested?  are you talking about?  kind of computer?”

    “An AI unlike any oto be believed.”

    “hich kid?”

    “have you heard of Professor Yao Guo Chuen?”

    “Yes.  tsingigoo tig  to do h him?

    “tum neuroprocessor t po seem to be est pet project.”

    “?”

    “ell only to ta-guzzling macants Li Jin and ang Lin. It appears t ang Lin ly fallen out of favor and seemed to  tudent.”

    “But ’s an AI?”

    “as just talking to ang Lin on ty BBS.  I ment, a girl called Vicky Zarted talking about tum neuroprocessor. trange t bots are disabled.”

    “A disabled account means t ts are disabled temporarily and ted.”

    “Or they are dead?”

    “Dead?”

    “t  t ws.”

    “Mmm ...”

    “Earlier tor alking ab