Someone's Actually Planning a Robbery

Mo Fei sent out a message from time to time, checking if the other party had turned on their device. If there was no response, he continued learning. But soon, he realized another issue—he had downloaded quite a bit, yet it didn't seem to take up any space on this computer's memory. That was a key problem!

"Why don't I occupy any of this computer's memory?" Mo Fei couldn't understand it at all. The basic knowledge he had learned online couldn't explain this. "What's so special about me?"

Mo Fei had always thought he existed in the same way as Arnim Zola, but now it seemed there were major differences. The other's thought patterns and knowledge storage relied on a large number of devices. Though the equipment was somewhat outdated, the sheer volume proved the database was far from small. But what about himself now?

To test this further, Mo Fei issued a new command—check the computer's hard drive and memory, trying to find traces of his own existence! Yet, there was no sign of him anywhere. Various systems were running, and the space they occupied matched the computer's records exactly—not a byte more, not a byte less. But Mo Fei was nowhere to be found.

"This..." Mo Fei couldn't make sense of it. He should have been nothing more than a pile of data, something like an Artificial Intelligence system, just without such a massive database. But now, it seemed there was something else—something he couldn't understand at all. "What a frustrating problem!"

Mo Fei sent out another data packet, and this time, he actually got a response. He quickly used a common hacking technique from the internet. Whether this mainstream hacking method would actually work was another question—remotely controlling a computer wasn't easy. The first step was to enable the other party's remote control function! He had tried it on a whim, never expecting it to actually succeed. Mo Fei felt pretty good about it—who knew such a basic technique would actually be useful!

The other party had turned on their device, so Mo Fei could leave now. But he noted down Paul's IP address. He would be back. Paul had become his top candidate for an agent, but Mo Fei still knew too little about him to make a move just yet—especially when he lacked capital!

Controlling Paul's chat software, he sent a message directly to Jennifer. A Stream of Light shot out, and Mo Fei stepped forward to follow it. He found that his speed should be faster than this stream, but for now, he had to stay behind it—after all, the path wasn't a completely open channel.

In an instant, he followed the stream to a strange place. The number of Streams of Light here was immense, but each had its own trajectory. Mo Fei didn't dare be careless—he guessed this was the location of a switch. One wrong step, and he would be lost here. This had to be the network provider's server, and the defenses here should be strong. He still didn't fully understand what kind of existence he was, so he didn't dare test it recklessly!

Mo Fei clung tightly to the message sent to Jennifer, weaving through countless Streams of Light without missing a step. Soon, he entered a one-way path again. It didn't feel fast to him, but in terms of time, it was only a little over a second. The speed of the network allowed Mo Fei to cross the United States in an instant, from the West Coast to the East Coast.

The moment he entered Jennifer's computer, Mo Fei reached out and grabbed the message sent from Paul's chat software. He slapped it against himself, and the message vanished. Then, he began issuing commands, taking control of this computer—quietly, of course.

Mo Fei wasn't controlling Jennifer's computer for any other reason—he needed to find local information. For now, this was his only refuge. However, Jennifer seemed to be one of those so-called "streamer girls." To Mo Fei, that was quite appealing. He immediately checked if there was a camera.

While Mo Fei was getting to know Jennifer, in an apartment in Brooklyn, New York, a man in his forties held a landline phone in one hand, his other hand hovering over the keypad. He hesitated, unable to press down, his mind in turmoil.

But after a minute, he quickly pressed the buttons and dialed a number. He lifted the receiver, and the call went through. "Jack? What made you call me? Did you find a job?" A tired voice came from the other end.

"Roy, no. But I got a red envelope from the bank. They want to take my house!" Jack was just as exhausted—mentally drained, completely worn out.

"..." Silence on the other end. "Jack, I can't help you. I'm struggling with my wife's illness too. Her medicine is almost gone..."

"I understand, Roy. The company pulled out of the U.S. market, and we all lost our jobs. I've been looking for work for three months, but..." Jack couldn't finish. They were contract workers at a factory with decent pay—enough to support a family.

But the factory was foreign-invested. Now that the company had abandoned its U.S. operations, they were out of work with no compensation. The contract severance issue was handed over to the bank. And the bank? They hadn't paid a single cent yet. They kept saying it was still being processed, with no end in sight.

"Jack, can I sue? We should get our severance. We had contracts. We're Americans!" Roy suddenly shouted, as if venting. Jack wasn't surprised—he had already tried that, but alone.

"That won't work. The bank is just stalling. They want to sell the factory at a good price, along with some skilled workers as a package deal. But those of us with loans won't get new jobs."

"Why? We've worked there for so long. Why won't they let us keep working?"

"The factory has always done business with this bank. Now, they've handed over the final closing procedures to them too. Our wages were always paid through them."

"So what?"

"They know our financial situation. Now they're just waiting for us to go bankrupt. That way, they can make a big profit and take my house too. Why else would they take over this mess? The benefits are huge!"

"Jack? How do you know?"

"My wife ran off with someone yesterday. He's a bank employee. He mocked me and told me all this. Do you understand how I feel? If I only had a daughter, I could sell the house, pay off the loan, and send her to a good school—her grades are good enough. But I have a son and a daughter. I need to give them a stable home. Roy... let's rob a bank!"