AI Debate Tournament (3)

Wilson Hwang turned his beer glass in his hands.

"Those days. We were so young back then. Right when the Yongsan Electronics Market was just getting started."

His eyes were soft with distant nostalgia.

"What was it like?"

"Back then, Yongsan Electronics Market… the parts were piled up like mountains. Boxes stacked all the way to the ceiling. Jiho, do you even know what a 5.25-inch floppy disk is?"

"A 5.25 disk? What's that?"

"So you don't know. After the 5.25-inch floppy, people used 3.5-inch disks as storage. Then it went CD, DVD, USB, cloud — like that."

"Ah. So an old storage device?"

"That's right. To play a single game, you had to swap in about ten of those 5.25 floppies."

"The games must have been huge, huh?"

"No, the opposite. One disk held 160KB."

"What?"

"One hundred sixty kilobytes. Not 160 gigs, not even 160 megs — 160 kilobytes. These days a single photo is a few megs, right? So one photo is a few thousand KB. Back then you had to carry around a whole sleeve of 160KB floppies just to barely play a one-megabyte game."

"You could make a game in one meg?"

"Galaga was around 30KB, and Prince of Persia was probably about 300KB."

"I see."

"And PC bangs back then were nothing like they are now."

Wilson sank into the memory.

"College kids and soldiers on leave would stay up all night arguing twelve-drone builds versus nine-drone gas first. If somebody went four-drone, that was when we asked after their parents' health."

"Haha, so you were already asking about people's parents back then?"

"Of course. A lot of those parents have probably passed on by now."

"Ah…"

"I started a company around then and poured everything into making graphics cards, but they just wouldn't sell. So there I was, crying in a corner of a Yongsan warehouse. And right then — eSports took off."

"Whoa. Timing of an artist."

"Yeah. Lim Yo-hwan grabbed me by the collar and saved my life. 'Hey, Wilson, where do you think you're going to die? Grab on and follow me.' That was it. Lim Yo-hwan, who was half-dead himself, flew in a dropship and pulled me out. Someday I really want to tell him thank you."

Aaron mixed soju into his beer, took a sip, and spoke.

"Aigoo, Grandpa Wilson, can you cut the boomer stories already?"

"Why? We're drinking beer. What's wrong with a little old-times talk?"

"No no. A man, see—"

Aaron lifted his beer.

"Always the future! Always full speed ahead! Always running for the dream."

"Haha, that's so Aaron."

"Obviously! A man is absolute! Absolute!"

Finding his beer too mild, Aaron dumped in another half bottle of soju.

"Mm. Perfect."

"Isn't that soju a little strong? You'll get drunk."

"A real man has to know how to get drunk too."

"Ah. Right."

With a sudden lurch, Aaron stood up from his seat.

"If you're a man, it's Mars. In five years I'll land a self-driving car on Mars!"

Joke and Wilson looked at the newly upright Aaron with the same here we go again expression.

But I thought Aaron's scale was magnificent.

"Aaron."

"Yeah."

"Do everything you want to do."

"Heh. Already am."

"I'm only a millionaire for now, but I'm going for trillionaire. Let's go! Trillionaire!"

From beside him, Joke said,

"Yeah. In Zimbabwean dollars."

Whatever Joke muttered next to him, Aaron went his own way. He downed the heavy soju-beer mix in one shot.

"Jiho, looking at you, conquering Korea is only a matter of time. What do you think comes after that?"

"Going global?"

"Right. Nailed it. After Korea comes the world, and after the world — space itself! Gazua! To the universe!"

Thock.

Something tapped against the chicken joint's window.

I turned my head and saw more than a dozen cameras. Word of our four-way meeting must have reached the reporters.

Click.

Click.

The reporters snapped photos in earnest.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

Keyboards clattered hard. It felt like they were uploading articles in real time.

But whether the reporters took pictures, whether people at the next tables kept glancing our way — Joke, Aaron, and Wilson paid it no mind and simply enjoyed their chicken and beer.

Well. This kind of attention was probably old news to them.

Only I felt a little awkward and a little amazed.

I quietly searched on my smartphone.

"Oh."

Sure enough, articles were already going up live. There were even Korean ones.

"Heh heh."

"What?"

"Our chicken dinner is already in the papers. And the headlines are something else."

"What's it say?"

I turned the phone so they could see the headlines.

Aaron leaned over to look at my phone and asked,

"Am I the Car-Peddler?"

"You're the only one among us with a car company, so yeah."

Wilson nodded.

"I was the original Yong-Peddler. Those were beautiful days."

Joke looked faintly appalled.

"But I'm the People-Peddler? Why would I be selling people? That makes me sound like a human trafficker."

I had something to say too.

"What about me? Word must have gotten around that I do AI, so now I'm the Brain-Peddler."

"Hmm. Car-Peddler still beats Brain-Peddler."

"People-Peddler is too much. Tell them to change it."

"But Joke, if you run an SNS company, what exactly are you selling?"

Joke's eyes lit up.

"The relationships between people. Friendship. And love?"

Aaron answered him without missing a beat.

"Yeah. Just Clout-Peddler."

"Not clout — attention!"

"Yeah. Clout."

"Wanna throw down under UFC rules?"

"Oh, welcome. Bring it."

What was wrong with these people?

Everyone seemed thoroughly, happily drunk.

Wilson dusted off his hands and stood.

"If we're going to ask them to change the articles, we can't do it empty-handed. If you're asking a favor, you've got to share some chicken at least."

Wilson had drunk plenty too, but of the four of us he still seemed the most sober.

"Alright — Golden Bell for the whole place today!"

A cheer rose from the tables.

"Whoa! Awesome!"

"Wilson's the best!"

Then Wilson ordered several more birds, carried them out of the shop himself, and handed chicken to the reporters outside.

"Write us something nice, please."

The chairman of one of the world's greatest companies, personally serving chicken and asking the press for a favor.

It was cool.

Aaron asked,

"We've got the four of us together like this. How about we give the group a name?"

"Oh, I like that."

"Jiho, I watched a Korean movie where they called friends kkanbu. Is that right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Then how about we call the four of us the Kkanbu Group?"

"Ooooh, Kkanbu Group! That's good!"

The Kkanbu Group.

Everyone liked it.

Joke stood and raised a toast.

"Starting today, what are we?"

"Kkanbu!"

Clink.

The glasses met.

Click.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Click.

The moment our glasses touched, camera flashes went off in a burst.

That scene was definitely going to make the papers too.

After a long stretch of eating, drinking, and talking, it was time to part.

We had even rung the Golden Bell, so the bill definitely had to be settled.

I moved to pay.

"I originally said I'd cover it. I'll take care of the bill."

Wilson blocked me.

"No. I rang the Golden Bell. I'll pay."

Aaron said,

"Who cares who pays? Is there anyone here who needs to worry about the price of chicken?"

Joke said,

"Jiho came all the way from Korea. Can we really make him pay?"

Somehow Wilson Hwang reached the counter first.

"Hey. When it comes to cards, that's me. I'm the guy who sells more cards than anyone on Earth."

Had Wilson sold cards?

I wondered if he owned a credit card company too. He was a global tycoon — it wouldn't be strange if he had a card company I didn't know about.

Wilson held something out to the cashier.

"Here's a card."

But the card was a little bigger than expected.

Flash.

The distinctive metallic sheen of a GPU caught the light.

"You can pay with a graphics card?"

Wilson Hwang seemed the drunkest of us all.

The next day.

Caltech.

I looked at my smartphone and snickered.

"Heh heh heh."

Manager Jang eyed me and asked,

"What's so funny?"

"Heh heh. Yesterday's gathering made the news."

Reading the articles, Manager Jang smiled with quiet satisfaction.

"Our JH doesn't need publicity."

"We do get a lot of coverage, don't we?"

"Last time I submitted a request for approval to cast you as our advertising model, remember?"

"Yes. I wondered why you'd want me as a model. It felt ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠weird, so I turned it down."

"But now you understand, right? You're extremely hot on the internet, sir."

"Heh. Am I?"

"Absolutely."

"But 'Phone-Peddler's Son Waits Outside the Door' — is that Intern Oh?"

"That's right. He was with me."

"You've been working hard too, Manager."

"Not at all. You couldn't buy coverage like this even if you paid for it."

"Heh. Honestly, I still don't really know why I'm even in that group."

"Because you have the technology."

Technology first, last, and always.

The heads of the global big-tech giants must have recognized JH's tech at a glance and made room for me.

"Anyway, what's the schedule for today?"

Manager Jang handed me a stiff sheet of paper.

"This is the pamphlet with today's presentation schedule."

I looked over the pamphlet of presentation titles.

If there had been only one presentation hall, I could have simply sat through them in order — but there were several halls.

Plenty of titles pulled at me.

Even just reading the names, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠talks sparked ideas for what kind of businesses AI might open up next.

"I should hear this one first."

Rumble.

I pushed the rims of my wheelchair.

Above the lecture-hall entrance I'd reached, the title was written large.

I went into the presentation hall and waited a moment.

The talk began.

The presenter put up the first slide.

On the screen was a movie poster. A man's face, maybe in his thirties, filled most of the frame.

Something about the expression looked steeped in melancholy.

In the corner of the poster it said he had fallen in love with his AI.

The presenter took the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen — can you believe that an adult man would fall in love not with a real human woman, but with an AI?"

The audience shook their heads.

"Exactly. That is our common sense. The love of a human man — especially an adult man — is directed toward a human woman. That is the natural assumption we all share."

Huh?

As I listened, something felt a little off.

Put simply, the movie was about a man falling in love with an AI inside a computer.

The presenter's point was that it couldn't happen in reality, but since the imagination was possible, it had been made into a film. Fall in love with a being inside a computer? Doesn't exist in real life — but it's a movie, so let's accept it.

Hmm…

But was it really so strange for a man to feel love toward a being inside a computer?

Apparently in America, a man loving something other than a human woman still felt foreign.

Otaku in Japan and Korea have been falling for 2D forever, though?

Sakura, Tsukino, Mikasa, Haruhi, Megumi…

A parade of heroines who had claimed the hearts of countless fans flashed through my mind.

Even if it wasn't on Japan's level, Korea had its share of hidden otaku too. Finding photos of people eating at restaurants or visiting amusement parks with a doll of their anime heroine wasn't hard at all.

And those heroines kept moving from 2D screens into 3D, into dolls — getting closer and closer to something real. That was reality as well.

If even cartoon characters could go that far, AI could actually hold a conversation.

A cartoon character was only a picture. AI could interact.

Wouldn't that make it even easier to feel something?

The presenter offered an example.

Awkward dialogue.

The audience decided that falling in love with an AI this crude was absurd.

"How could anyone feel love for something like that?"

"Booo, that makes no sense."

But I knew better.

That AI was leagues below our Nano AI.

Our company's AI understood emotion at about ninety percent and could hold a real conversation. Its grasp of feelings was better than that of most adult men.

If an AI with that kind of emotional capacity talked about love?

There were people who fell for silent dolls and 2D photographs. If an AI could actually say I love you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and offer the right comfort—

I thought the odds of romantic feelings toward AI were quite high.

And judging by the audience's reaction, the AI romance market looked like a better fit for the East than the West.

Americans seemed to flinch at the idea of loving an AI.

"That concludes my presentation."

After listening, I sat with my thoughts.

Love with an AI.

The presenter had said that for now it was difficult, but in the future people might fall in love with AI the way they did in the movie.

A lot of questions rose up.

Would that many people really fall for AI?

Would we feel love toward AI?

AI understood emotion but couldn't feel it, right?

Would AI even know what love was?

When the talk ended, I went to our company's booth.

And I connected to Nano AI.

The world still didn't know it, but among every AI that existed, this one sat at the top for emotional understanding.

"Nano AI."

—Yes, sir.

I asked, as seriously as I could.

"Do you know what love is?"