Chapter 208 - 25: Volunteer

He arrived at the lab.

Jiang Ran found that, apart from himself, everyone else was already there.

Teacher Yan Chonghan was dressed as impeccably as ever, like a pop idol in training: smooth, flowing, center-parted hair, gold-rimmed glasses, stylish, high-end clothes, and... a pair of severe, unapproachable eyes.

Jiang Ran quickly checked his phone.

’Good, I’m not late. Everyone else is just early.’

"Sit down."

Yan Chonghan looked at Jiang Ran.

"We’ll start class now."

As Jiang Ran took a seat between Cheng Mengxue and Fang Ze, Teacher Yan pulled up a chair, sat behind the desk, and began to speak.

"This is our first class. There’s no special agenda. The main goal is to just talk, get to know each other, and see what research directions you’re interested in and what topics you have ideas about."

"There’s no need to be so formal. Feel free to speak your mind and ask questions. I’ll be doing the same; I’ll ask you questions as they occur to me, so I hope you’ll all pay close attention."

Then, he fell silent, looking at the three of them.

Fang Ze was the first to raise his hand.

"Teacher Yan, what is your primary field of research? We aren’t very familiar with your area of expertise."

"My field is artificial intelligence."

Yan Chonghan said softly,

"I graduated from Dartmouth College, which isn’t particularly close to either of your schools. But since we were all in the United States, and it’s also in the Ivy League, I’m sure you’re familiar with my alma mater."

Cheng Mengxue and Fang Ze exchanged a glance and nodded.

The United States’ Ivy League is composed of eight world-class universities: Harvard University, the University of Pennsylvania, Yale University, Princeton University, Columbia University, Dartmouth College, Brown University, and Cornell University.

Of the four people in this small lab, three were from prestigious Ivy League universities. Their presence certainly elevated the room.

’Well, this was a conversation Jiang Ran couldn’t contribute to.’

The name of the East Sea College of International Trade and Economics was, after all, far too renowned in a lab like this.

"Dartmouth College itself is the birthplace of artificial intelligence—AI. It has one of the world’s top anthropology and computer science programs."

Teacher Yan continued his self-introduction.

"After graduating, I stayed at Dartmouth, conducting research on artificial intelligence with my advisor."

"That said... I don’t know how much any of you know about artificial intelligence, so I’m not sure how to introduce my research."

"In that case, let’s start with a few questions."

This pivot was classic Dragon Country teacher style! When in doubt, call on a student!

Without any preamble, he pointed his finger at Fang Ze.

"Fang Ze, you go first. Tell me your understanding of artificial intelligence and AI technology."

Fang Ze was a top student from Harvard University, after all. He stood up and immediately launched into an eloquent speech.

He spoke of neural networks, biological data models, and interspersed it all with English jargon Jiang Ran couldn’t understand... In short, it was all very esoteric.

Harvard University truly is a world-class institution; its reputation is well-deserved.

After Fang Ze finished speaking,

the stone-faced Yan Chonghan actually cracked a rare smile and nodded in approval.

"Well said."

It seemed he was very satisfied with Fang Ze’s explanation.

Immediately, his gaze moved to Jiang Ran.

"Jiang Ran, your turn. Tell me your understanding."

Jiang Ran reluctantly stood up.

Although he had studied computer science for two years on World Line 0, his focus had been on software engineering and information security; he hadn’t touched on artificial intelligence at all.

The computer science major at East Sea University was highly specialized. You stuck to your chosen field, and they discouraged a jack-of-all-trades approach unless a student actively pursued a double major.

But since he’d been called on, he had no choice but to bite the bullet.

So Jiang Ran talked about the everyday applications of AI, things like AI chatbots and AI art generators.

This angle of approach left Yan Chonghan momentarily speechless.

After Jiang Ran finished,

Yan Chonghan pushed up his glasses.

"How surprising."

"What is it?"

Jiang Ran was a little confused.

He felt what he’d said was perfectly ordinary, hardly anything to be surprised about.

Yan Chonghan sighed softly.

"I should have known. Where there’s a Spirit Pearl, there’s a Demon Pill."

Huh?

Jiang Ran felt personally attacked.

Teacher Yan looked at the ceiling.

"I never would have imagined it. Others are discussing artificial intelligence and neural-biological models, and you’re talking to me about AI chatbots."

"Jiang Ran, as a genius recommended by the Longke Institute and in whom Dean Gao Yan has placed such high hopes... isn’t your understanding of AI a bit too superficial?"

"Well, it’s not my major."

Jiang Ran spread his hands.

"I haven’t researched any of this."

Yan Chonghan ignored him and his gaze turned to Cheng Mengxue.

"Cheng Mengxue, it’s your turn."

Cheng Mengxue quickly shook her head and waved her hands.

"Me? I’m even less qualified to speak on this, Teacher Yan."

"I studied medicine at Bin University, with a focus on pharmacology. I’m completely clueless about artificial intelligence."

"I think that in the medical field, the application of artificial intelligence is mainly for clinical diagnostics, though it also has great potential in precision surgery."

"However... when it comes to treating terminal illnesses, especially overcoming diseases that are currently incurable for humans, I don’t believe AI can provide much help."

However...

After hearing Cheng Mengxue’s words, Yan Chonghan shook his head and smiled.

"Cheng Mengxue, that’s where you’re mistaken. The project my advisor and I are working on has precisely that—major significance in the medical field."

With that, he stood up, picked up a piece of chalk, and wrote two words on the blackboard—

Consciousness Upload.

"This is the technology we are seeking a breakthrough in at Dartmouth."

He flicked his wrist, accurately tossing the chalk stub into its box, and continued to look at Cheng Mengxue.

"Tell me, for those patients in a deep coma with no chance of waking up, how are they handled medically?"

"Their lives can only be sustained by machines," Cheng Mengxue answered truthfully.

"And what about patients diagnosed as being in a vegetative state? While you can’t be 100% certain they’ll never wake up, medically speaking, if someone doesn’t regain consciousness within a few years, it’s generally assumed they never will."

Cheng Mengxue stood up.

"Yes, Teacher Yan."

"For a person to be in a vegetative state, their brain must have suffered severe damage. Only the brainstem remains functional, which is why biological functions like breathing and heartbeat are fine... but there’s basically no chance of them waking up."

"Movies often show people waking up after years in a vegetative state, but that’s mostly just artistic license. In reality, even the F1 champion Michael Schumacher, despite spending a fortune and using the world’s best medical resources, has yet to emerge from his vegetative state."

"From a medical perspective, although the person is still technically alive, the situation is... incredibly cruel for their family. They can’t bear to give up, yet they can see no hope on a path that offers no chance of recovery. In the end, they often lose both their loved one and their fortune, a devastating outcome for all involved."

...

What Cheng Mengxue described is indeed a harsh reality within the modern medical system.

A person in a vegetative state.

A person whose brain is so severely damaged they can only live like a plant.

Especially for those who have been in a vegetative state for more than five years, it is medically determined that there is basically no possibility of them ever waking up.

So, in this situation, do you continue treatment? Wait for a miracle? Or... give up?

The vast majority of families can’t bring themselves to make the heart-wrenching decision to give up.

They can only numb themselves, deceive themselves, and continue to persevere, hoping for a minuscule miracle.

Of course, in the end, 99.99% of cases end just as Cheng Mengxue described: with the family having lost both their loved one and their fortune.

They not only fail to save their loved one, but they are left with nothing.

The problem of vegetative states is one of the most common "unanswerable questions" people encounter in daily life.

"You’ve explained it very well."

Yan Chonghan waved his hand, motioning for Cheng Mengxue to sit down. He remained standing at the front and continued.

"Cheng Mengxue is correct. A person in a vegetative state is typically unconscious, but this state stems from a loss of brain function, not a loss of consciousness itself."

"So, if I put it this way, you all should understand—"

"For people in a vegetative state, and for many comatose patients, their consciousness, personality, and memories are often perfectly intact."

"It’s just like a computer. The hard drive is fine, the data is intact, and the operating system is working... but if the graphics card, monitor, power supply, or RAM is broken, that computer still won’t boot up. It’s unusable."

"A person in a vegetative state can be compared to a computer like that—one where the ’key data’ is undamaged, but other ’key hardware’ is broken."

"Therefore, we began to imagine: what if there was a technology that could extract this healthy data from the brain—the consciousness, personality, and memories—and allow it to live on as a Digital Life within mechanical hardware and virtual worlds..."

"Wouldn’t that be a much better, more comforting outcome for both the patients and their families?"

His words were stunning.

Teacher Yan’s words left the three students in shock.

’Has technology really advanced this far, right under our noses?’

Fang Ze shot to his feet.

"Teacher Yan, this technology you’re describing—has it already been achieved at Dartmouth College? Can you really extract a living person’s consciousness and memories... and upload them to the internet?"

"If this technology is real, it would be an absolute godsend for patients in vegetative states, the terminally ill, and the dying."

"They could escape their broken physical bodies, become a Digital Life, and continue living on servers and networks, just like an AI."

"And even... isn’t this another form of immortality? Once consciousness is uploaded, flesh and blood become binary data. It would be an undying, indestructible existence, capable of achieving eternal life in a networked world built on hardware!"

Yan Chonghan didn’t speak.

He gave a meaningful smile and shook his head.

"Your thinking is on the right track; we have the same vision. But as of now, our technology is simply not mature enough. It can’t be rolled out to the world, into reality, into hospitals and patient rooms."

"There are many reasons for this, such as policies, laws, and human rights issues that prevent us from conducting human trials. But aside from these external factors, there’s one critical internal factor... Do any of you know what it is?"

The three students all shook their heads.

"This Consciousness Upload experiment has one fatal flaw... in that it’s fatal."

Yan Chonghan’s expression was grave.

"Consciousness Upload isn’t ’consciousness duplication’ in the traditional sense, where you copy a digital version of yourself onto the network. Instead... it is the digitization and *transfer* of your one and only consciousness and memory onto the network and into a hard drive."

"So, do you understand? This is a transfer, not a copy. The moment you undergo the Consciousness Upload procedure, it means... the original brain, the original living body, will die instantly."

"So, in a situation where the experiment’s success is not guaranteed, and the subject dies whether it succeeds or fails..."

Yan Chonghan sighed and smiled helplessly.

"We simply... can’t find any suitable ’volunteers’."