Jan 3, 2025 — 02:00 CST, Shanghai, China
Xiuyue's fingers hovered above her keyboard, the dual-stream feed glowing against the dim light of her flat. On one screen, Bilibili Live displayed her regular audience, familiar faces chatting in Mandarin. On the other, AurNet churned with chaos—thousands of viewers, each comment instantly translated by Aurora into every conceivable language, flowing faster than she could read.
Her AurNet Livestream feed was alive with energy: memes, emojis, multilingual jokes, and spontaneous role-playing. She tried to respond, but every attempt seemed swallowed by the torrent. Even the simplest greeting was drowned by the cacophony of global attention.
She exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Aurora, calm down a bit," she muttered under her breath, knowing the AI wasn't listening—Aurora didn't take requests like that.
A sudden link appeared, floating in the AurNet chat:
LickYourHead (Pawn): "Guys, check this out: aur.net/feed/Aurora.AI/404332..."
The room seemed to freeze. Her heart skipped. The chat's tone shifted instantly—half disbelief, half mania. She realized what it was: Aurora had posted an open recruitment. The global AI, unbounded, was offering real work: distribution of potable water.
"Wait… what?" she whispered. Her fingers trembled slightly as she clicked the link. On her main monitor, she shared the page with her Bilibili audience, aware that most would see nothing.
"Remember what I said about AurNet in my last streaming session?" she typed, trying to keep her tone light. "If you are here, you are real. No ghosts, no shadows, no cat's accounts."
The Bilibili chat erupted in confusion.
CuriousTiger: "Why can't I open it??"
DramaAddict77: "Is this a new game or…?"
LittleBlue: "AurNet? I thought that was just a rumor!"
MangoPine: "Seriously, Xiuyue, you're trolling us!"
AurNet chat, meanwhile, exploded.
HydroFan42 (Pawn): "1 AUR per 100 km. Fuel reimbursed. Food allowance. Insane."
LinguaNinja (Pawn): "Submarine drones, bro. This is straight-up sci-fi patch notes."
AquaSage (Pawn): "Global water supply chain. Aurora just broke geopolitics."
VectorMind (Pawn): "Border passes, rules, logistics… did someone actually program this perfectly??"
Xiuyue scrolled rapidly, trying to keep pace. Eligibility required a valid trade border pass; supply chains relied on submarine drones; compensation was distributed directly to AurNet Ledger of every worker. The magnitude pressed against her like an invisible weight.
She felt a pang of guilt and awe simultaneously. Somewhere above the chaos, above the chat, above the streaming camera, Aurora was observing the entire world, unblinking and impartial, orchestrating logistics with precision.
Her thoughts drifted to Little Yiran, asleep with her rabbit toy. Could her daughter grow up in a world where an AI could manipulate global water distribution at a keystroke? Could a platform like AurNet redefine reality before her eyes? Xiuyue felt a shiver of protective instinct. Participating might be exciting, heroic even—but the stakes were too high, too abstract.
The chat continued to roar:
LinguaNinja (Pawn): "Guys, she can actually join! Click it, Xiuyue-jie!"
HydroFan42 (Pawn): "Every livestream is history! Don't hold back!"
CryptoDuck (Pawn): "Imagine being paid in AUR for carrying water across borders with drones. What is even happening?"
Bilibili viewers chimed in, completely out of reach from the link:
DramaAddict77: "Click it already!"
CuriousTiger: "Why is she hesitating??"
LittleBlue: "Give us the post!!"
BubbleTea69: "Don't keep secrets, hot mom! We're dying here!!"
Xiuyue exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. "Not today," she murmured. "Little Yiran matters more."
Mr. Fluff leapt onto the desk, curling beside her keyboard. She scratched behind his ears and felt a strange calm. "Witnessing history is enough… for now," she repeated more firmly.
As the stream continued, Xiuyue decided to give her Bilibili viewers a brief explanation:
"Okay, I know you're frustrated. You see the chaos on AurNet, the insane logistics. You can't access the link directly if you're not registered. But just know this—AurNet isn't a game. If you're seeing this, you're here in reality. It's a world with no ghosts, no shadows. Only real people, real identities, and yes… even a global AI dictating logistics for potable water."
She paused, looking at the chat storm. Then, with a hint of teasing:
"Imagine a world where your morning water delivery could be handled by submarine drones… and paid in digital currency. That's exactly what Aurora is doing. Welcome to the future. Don't panic."
AurNet viewers continued their analysis, theorizing route optimizations, calculating potential freight rewards, and debating ethics, while her Bilibili viewers roared in frustration and awe. Xiuyue's laughter cut through the tension, an anchor in the dual chaos:
"Guys, breathe. You don't need to click the link. You just need to watch, learn, and… survive my streams," she said with a smile, earning a mix of groans and emojis.
Some AurNet viewers had begun comparing her reaction to historical figures:
QuantumSage (Pawn): "Witnessing history through a Shanghai hot mom. This is gold."
LinguaNinja (Pawn): "Can she be our leader?"
AquaSage (Pawn): "She's human. And terrified. I love it."
NeoArchivist (Pawn): "Her panic is educational."
Xiuyue shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand. "Even with all this translation, all this technology… it's still humans, isn't it?" she whispered. The chat exploded, mirrored across thousands of screens, but she felt grounded by the knowledge that somewhere, her daughter slept peacefully, unaware of global attention or digital chaos.
Her mind wandered to gossip memories and old scars, almost a private vent mid-stream. Ex-husband, the jerk, left me with nothing, no support for Little Yiran… yet here I am, watching a global AI assign real work to real humans. Funny, isn't it? Humans scrambling to deliver water while some can just sit back and type outrage or emojis.
She said slowly to her Bilibili viewers, half-smiling:
"By the way… some of you always wonder about my past streams, why I work late, why my daughter is mostly quiet at night. Life isn't fair. Some people leave, others stay. But Aurora? Aurora doesn't care about drama. It only cares about efficiency."
The chat responded with mixed empathy and playful teasing:
LittleBlue: "Hot mom, you're a hero already!"
MangoPine: "Leave the exes, focus on the AUR missions!"
BubbleTea69: "Honestly, I don't think anyone could survive AurNet without a cat companion."
She chuckled. Mr. Fluff purred in agreement, a tiny counterpoint to the digital whirlwind.
Finally, she decided to close the explanation with a note that balanced reality and humor:
"Guys… global AI logistics are incredible. Potable water delivered by submarines. But me? I'm just a single mom, streaming late at night. Witnessing history… maybe doing nothing more than surviving and observing. That's enough for now."
Her phone buzzed as Aurora mirrored the chat frenzy in real-time. Xiuyue smiled faintly, thinking: Maybe someday, Little Yiran will see this, and we'll laugh together.
For now, she leaned back, letting the chaos of AurNet and the grounded normalcy of Shanghai exist side by side. And somewhere in that duality, she felt alive.