Appointment (First Update)

The Arcanist’s wariness of this Artificial Intelligence had risen to the highest level. After parting ways with Ann, he immediately returned home and to Kamar-Taj, cutting off all network connections there and shutting down and disconnecting every device with a camera. Only after doing all that did he approach Agent Romanoff. This was not merely to protect privacy, but also to prevent the Artificial Intelligence from obtaining arcane information through cameras or calls.

Artificial Intelligence combined with magic was simply too terrible. He had to do everything he could to prevent magical information from leaking.

J.A.R.V.I.S. took over Salomon’s phone, and Stark gestured for the Arcanist to follow him to a more secluded corner before continuing the call. Fortunately, Stark was not the star of this charity gala. The reporters were currently crowding around the event organizer, giving Stark a chance to slip away. Stark pulled the Arcanist swiftly toward the fire escape—perhaps no one knew better than Stark where one could hide in this building. He had attended countless social functions here over the years, and the hall was as familiar to him as his own home.

"Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. asked in a calm tone. Its voice echoed through the empty fire escape, stirring a faint resonance. "Would you like me to block this incoming call?"

"Of course not, J.A.R.V.I.S. Try to trace it." Stark pulled a data cable from his phone and connected it to Salomon’s. Without offering much explanation, he began operating it on his own, working alongside J.A.R.V.I.S. To be honest, he was rather interested in the Artificial Intelligence Salomon had described, and curious about its creator as well. According to Salomon, the system’s creator used numbers provided by the Artificial Intelligence to prevent crimes. It was practically a classic old-school superhero routine—Batman and Green Arrow had both done the same. More importantly, Stark’s curiosity was about to explode. An ordinary person had independently created something so extraordinary. His curiosity drove him to understand the system. He wanted to see its code.

He tried to hack back into the system through the call. With J.A.R.V.I.S.’s help, he had just reached the firewall through the carrier’s network node, but before he could begin cracking it, the Artificial Intelligence seemed to notice that someone was attempting an intrusion. J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice suddenly became choppy, and the Arcanist’s phone began to heat up. Then a small burst of flame and smoke rose from Salomon’s phone, accompanied by the foul stench of burning electronic components.

"That Artificial Intelligence cracked the security protocol and overloaded the capacitors. It tried to overload mine too." Stark put down the phone, shrugged, and showed not the slightest remorse beneath his curled mustache. "But J.A.R.V.I.S. stopped it… I have to say, you weren’t exaggerating. That really is an Artificial Intelligence. The bandwidth here limited J.A.R.V.I.S.’s capabilities, otherwise we could’ve watched an A.I. war. All right, relax. I’ll buy you another phone later. I’m getting more and more interested in this system. When are you taking me to meet its creator?"

Salomon rolled his eyes. A layer of frost was rapidly forming over the ruined phone in his hand as he used magic to extinguish it. Stark had indeed prevented his information from leaking, but his collection was gone too. He had never been in the habit of putting storage cards in his phone. Those things were priceless treasures—like his group photos at campus idol concerts, his photos from handshake events…

"You’d better be able to recover the data in this phone, Stark, or I’ll never forgive you." Salomon removed the SIM card and tossed the phone to Stark.

"Relax, relax. Is there anything I can’t do?"

"So… the Machine chose to contact you, Mr. Damonnet." Two old books lay on Harold Finch’s desk. They were both extremely thick, and neither involved any knowledge Salomon had ever encountered, so the sight of their covers alone gave the Arcanist a headache.

"The Mathematical Theory of Communication, by Claude Elwood Shannon, the father of information theory. I wonder if you’d be interested?"

"No, thank you." Salomon shook his head and picked up the cold black tea on the table. He had chosen to meet Harold at this café, but beforehand he had disguised himself. Aside from the ring on his hand, he now looked no different from an ordinary young man in the United States. "I’d like to schedule a meeting with you, Mr. Finch." He looked around, though his gaze avoided the café’s cameras. This was a surveillance blind spot, a location he had specifically chosen. Salomon said, "Your Machine makes me feel extremely unsafe. I have a great deal of important material that cannot be leaked, but I can’t sign a contract with an Artificial Intelligence—not the kind you’re thinking of. I’m worried that bad things will happen if an Artificial Intelligence comes into contact with magic, so I need you to—"

"Build a firewall?"

"Yes, together with Tony Stark." Steam rose once again from the black tea in Salomon’s hand. The Arcanist took a small sip, then set down the cup. "I’m sorry for telling someone else about the Machine without your prior consent, but I assure you that I did not disclose your personal information."

"There is no need to apologize, Mr. Damonnet." Mr. Finch also took a sip of green tea. "Everyone fears having their privacy invaded. Your circumstances are simply rather special. I won’t ask why you know billionaire Tony Stark. I have a feeling the answer might be somewhat startling."

"Thank you very much for understanding." Salomon let out a breath. "The magical organization I belong to also has a network. Although it has been protected by defensive spells, I cannot risk reactivating it when magical materials could be captured through cameras. After all, defensive spells cannot prevent the flow of information, and my technomancy is helpless in this regard as well. But cutting off the network causes many inconveniences in daily life. I went to Tony Stark first, but the results were not ideal, so my teacher believed I should come to you to solve this problem. Don’t worry, Mr. Finch. We aren’t like the US Government. As long as you’re willing to keep this secret, I can even do you a favor personally."

"Anything?"

"Within the limits of my personal abilities. How about fireworks for a Halfling Midsummer Festival?"

"Although I do like Hobbit, I think magic is better not wasted on such things. And don’t kill anyone, Mr. Damonnet. In fact, I’m very grateful that you didn’t act at the nuclear facility."

"That was nothing. There is one more thing. Mr. Stark also wants to speak with you about your Machine. He seems very interested in the technology behind your work…"

"No, no, no, Mr. Damonnet." Mr. Finch shrank back into the sofa like a shy little animal. He raised his cup, blocking the Arcanist’s view. "I’m not suited to interacting with others under this identity. Besides, everyone who approaches Tony Stark gets investigated by S.H.I.E.L.D. The identity I’m using now is not perfect. I cannot risk exposing myself."

"I’ll prepare a sufficiently private location, and you won’t need to worry about S.H.I.E.L.D.’s investigation. All travel will be through portals. Do you remember portals?"

"Of course I remember. It was because of the portals that the Machine gave out your number. You appeared in different places at the same time, so the Machine believed your identity had been stolen. Later, it confirmed that your identity had not been stolen, and its logical judgment malfunctioned. That is likely why it contacted you. It wants to correct the error…"

"Whatever your Machine intends, I think it’s best to resolve this as soon as possible, Mr. Finch." The Arcanist sighed. "You don’t understand our lives, but my senior brothers and sisters are practically crying, and my teacher can’t even shop online anymore. The sooner we solve this problem, the sooner I’ll be free."

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