Awakening the Daily Intelligence System

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"Please..." The boy’s Adam’s apple, locked by the electromagnetic collar, rolled as his underdeveloped vocal cords emitted a cracked quiver, "Hospital... My mother needs..."

Richard suddenly let out a hyena-like laugh, his subcutaneous artificial voice box vibrating with eerie low frequencies: "Do you know why I chose your mother’s attending physician?" His thick fingers skimmed over the quantum tablet, calling up the electronic medical record from the New York Presbyterian Hospital, "Patients with advanced renal failure are perfect excuses for medical accidents—just like the ’drowning accident’ of the siblings from Brooklyn last week."

Alicia’s brain-machine interface sparked blue flames, a sign that a climax was approaching. As she sank her canines into the boy’s shoulder blade, her tongue stud, packed with micro sensors, was analyzing the blood composition: "Dopamine levels are 38% higher than the previous subject..." Before she could finish, Richard abruptly seized the boy’s neck with his hydraulic mechanical arm, and behind them, in the medical pod, the life signs curve on the display screen fluctuated violently like a stock index short circuit.

As the alarm ripped through the air, two black metal cards slipped from between the crevices of the genuine leather sofa. Richard’s age-spotted fingers picked up this invitation from Hell, the laser-engraved "DEATH WARRANT" seeping with some biological mucus—this was a favorite method of notification from the Dark Web’s cleaners, eroding the target’s internal organs within 72 hours with gene-edited viruses.

A large amount of magenta gas suddenly flooded in through the ventilation ducts, and Alicia’s mechanical eyes blinked frantically with error codes. In her last visual data, the boy was dissolving into a mist of blood as nanomachines broke him down, while outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of Manhattan’s night sky, numerous drones carrying the same metal cards headed towards each skyscraper on Wall Street.

Blood-Judgment Order

Defendant: Emily Choi Crime: First-degree murder, Child abuse Judge: Shadow Judgment Team Execution Date: July 7, 2017, 21:00

Defendant: James Zhang Crime: Premeditated murder Judge: Shadow Judgment Team Execution Date: July 6, 2017, 21:00

In the presidential suite on the top floor of the Manhattan Park Hyatt Hotel, James Zhang stared at the gold-embossed parchment in his hand, the veins on his temples throbbed violently. The Asian tycoon controlling New York’s real estate empire, the Golden Lion Group, suddenly grabbed his companion’s lace nightgown, pinning the panic-stricken Emily Choi down on the Italian genuine leather sofa.

"This damned Judgment Order is brought in by you?" His bloodshot eyes swept over the champagne cooler on the coffee table, where a half bottle of Dom Pérignon was still submerged, the ice long melted into a murky liquid. As Hollywood’s up-and-coming Korean actress, Emily’s makeup was now streaked with eerie lines by her cold sweat, her trembling hand pointing towards the corner of the suite’s Persian rug—where a mixed-race boy of about ten was curled up, the bruises on his neck turning purplish under the moonlight.

"Other than us, there’s only that mongrel left..." Emily’s voice suddenly cut off, covering her mouth as if realizing something. The events that unfolded three days ago in the Long Island Villa haunted her like a ghost: the son of the Filipino maid who had witnessed them destroying evidence was now lying in a twisted position on a handcrafted carpet worth two hundred thousand US dollars.

James grabbed the Judgment Order, tearing it into confetti-like fragments, the diamond cuff-links on his right hand bulging with veins from the effort. The Wharton Business School graduate suddenly revealed the ferocity of a street thug, smashing the scattered light from the crystal chandelier underfoot: "Even if it’s an evil spirit crawling out from Hell, I could shred it into molecules with a paper shredder!"

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He roughly tore open Emily’s silk robe, but was interrupted by the ringtone of his phone as he touched her waist. The diamond-encrusted Vertu displayed 20:30, alerting him with a death notice from the Wall Street Journal—A memorial service for the only son of the famous Chinese lawyer Li Wenbin would be held at 21:00 at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

"Time to go put on a show of tears for Old Man Li." James grabbed his Armani suit and threw it on carelessly, adjusting his tie in the mirror he caught a glimpse of Emily reapplying her makeup. The actress, who won a Golden Globe for "Manhattan Love Story," now had her eyeliner smeared like spiderweb cracks by her trembling fingertips.

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The epoxy floor of the underground parking lot glimmered coldly as the laser headlights of the Lexus LS600hL cut through the darkness. The moment James pressed the remote key, the red Jeep Grand Cherokee fifteen meters away suddenly blared its dazzling high beams. Wearing night vision goggles, Lin Mo lightly twisted the modified nitrous oxide acceleration valve, and the off-road vehicle, like a wild beast, blocked the VIP passage.

"F**king idiot!" James rolled down the window and cursed, the creases of his custom suit still carrying the scent of Emily’s perfume. Just as he was about to open the door to investigate, he found his right hand suddenly going numb—the sevoflurane wafting from the car’s fragrance system was spreading through the air conditioning vents, and in the rearview mirror Emily’s blonde hair had already fallen onto the leather seat.

A figure wearing a black tactical mask appeared in front of the windshield. Lin Mo pressed the modified Taser gun against James’ twitching temple, amber eyes flickering behind the night vision goggles. This former Marine Corps scout was calculating the precise dosage of the anesthetic, and when the digital wristwatch jumped to 20:59, he made a tactical gesture to the body camera.

In the New York Police Department Headquarters briefing room, Chief Robert Song loosened his dark blue uniform tie. On the wall, an electronic screen was cycling through two serious cases: the unsolved live beheading of a Wall Street investment banker, and now the command center’s alert lights started flashing madly.

"Code 287, a double kidnapping in the affluent district!" the dispatcher’s voice trembled, "The caller is from CAA talent agency, claiming their artist Emily Choi and the CEO of Golden Lion Group have been missing for over forty minutes, the last GPS location of their phones was in the Park Hyatt Hotel underground garage."

Special Operations Group leader Michael Johnson grabbed his tactical tablet to deploy forces but was stopped by the cornered technical analyst Allen Xiao. This Chinese genius with messy curly hair suddenly turned his laptop towards everyone, the screen showing a surge of abnormal traffic captured by the dark web monitoring system.

"They are being live-streamed for judgement..." Allen’s voice was drowned out by the sudden blaring of alarms. On America’s largest streaming platform Twitch, a newly registered channel’s viewership was exploding exponentially, with the title glaringly being "Shadow Judgment Team Special Court".

The second coming of the dark web judgement show stirred an unprecedented storm across the North American Continent.

When the first fifty thousand viewers forcibly redirected to the "Deep Sea Live" platform, the tech elite of Silicon Valley all held their breath in front of the monitoring screens. Those lucky ones randomly chosen by the system were venting wildly in the comments section, some with trembling fingers were typing out twenty consecutive exclamation marks, some casting the live feed onto the giant screens of Times Square, and others starting rebroadcasts—the digital era’s bloody carnival was radiating out with data volumes of a million-per-second scale.

At 20:17 West Coast time, in front of the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows on the thirty-sixth floor of Deep Sea Technology Headquarters, CEO Jack Zhang’s custom suit was already soaked in cold sweat. The genius entrepreneur from Stanford watched the leaping viewer numbers on the monitoring screen and his adam’s apple moved difficultly, "120 million...130 million...damn it! Our server architecture simply..."

"All the spare nodes are overloaded." Chief Technology Officer Benjamin Niu slumped in his ergonomic chair, his shirt collar stained with coffee. This genius who once led the team that hacked the Pentagon firewall was now nervously biting his thumb, "The other side has nested seven layers of mirror protocols in the code, we can’t even find the real data stream..."

In the corner, security consultant Ethan Yuan smashed his coffee cup. This Chinese hacking master employed by the CIA was cursing at a screen full of wriggling red warnings, "I’ve used the NSA’s quantum decryption module! But their encryption algorithm doesn’t belong to any existing mathematical system!" His bloodshot eyes turned towards Jack, "Get the bankruptcy papers ready, now unless God himself descends..."

"Shut down the entire data center! Physically disconnect from the network!" Jack loosened his tie and rushed towards the fire exit, only to bump into the swarm of journalists at the elevator entrance. Amidst the flashing lights, he heard Benjamin’s desperate scream from behind, "It’s useless! They’ve already hijacked satellite channels, now any electronic device that connects to the network will automatically redirect..."