Just like this.
Every morning was like this.
Hughes knew that on the other end of the phone was the company's artificial intelligence "Xiao Ke."
It was a low-end AI, lacking autonomous consciousness, but it was sufficiently adequate as a tool for the company.
He turned on the light, and the cold white light once again filled the room as he walked out and headed toward the bathroom.
Next, he had thirty minutes to wash up and eat.
By eight-thirty, he was supposed to be sitting in front of his workstation, working.
Otherwise, he would receive another call from the company, and this time, it wouldn't be Xiao Ke calling, but the "Public Relations Department."
Thinking of that bunch of sanctimonious thugs, Hughes couldn't help but shudder again.
Just showing a will to resist would make him a constant target of the Public Relations Department's scum; they would insult and torment him, freely hitting and scolding.
Liu Sheng had died like that.
