Counterattack starts with controlling probability

Li Hao sat in a corner of the library at the University of California, Berkeley, with a thick stack of documents and drafts spread out on the table.

His computer screen flashed with statistical modeling code, the title of his doctoral dissertation clearly displayed at the top:

"Modeling of sentiment fluctuations in multidimensional data streams and its predictive capabilities."

This should have been an achievement that he was very proud of - it integrated more than three years of academic accumulation and research results, but Li Hao was unable to continue.

He supported his forehead, his eyes fixed on the document on the screen, but he couldn't concentrate.

From Zhang Jingchen's disappearance, to Tiktalk being forced to accept government control, to DeepView being almost completely divested...

These things were like countless tangled threads, pulling at every nerve in his body.

"Li Hao, you're not feeling well." Professor Hall's voice rang in his ear, breaking the silence. Li Hao looked up at his ever-supportive advisor and forced a smile. "Sorry, Professor Hall, I was just a little distracted."

Hall sat down across from him, his tone calm but insightful. "You're still worried about TikTalk, right? I've reminded you long ago that academic research and real-world business are two different things. You can't let the latter consume your time and energy."

"I know..." Li Hao whispered, "but it's really hard for me to let go. This is not only about TikTalk, but also about the future of DeepView. I could have focused on the paper, but the controversy over the algorithm and the limitations of the technology always kept me from getting distracted."

Li Hao's thesis research is actually deeply related to Tiktalk and DeepView.

He used part of DeepView's public algorithm and combined it with his own research to design a more complex mood fluctuation prediction model, attempting to capture more subtle emotional changes in multidimensional data streams.

Yet it is the potential of this technology that makes him feel so conflicted every time he writes the chapter on "predictive power" in his paper.

He knew that if his research results were abused, it would likely cause huge social controversy, just like DeepView.

"What should I do with this?" Li Hao looked at Hall, his tone struggling. "If I continue to delve deeper, the paper may have a greater impact, but it may also be misused. But if I avoid discussing it, I can't truly demonstrate the value of my research."

Hall pondered for a moment and said earnestly: "The duty of scientists and scholars is to pursue the truth, not to fear the consequences that the truth may bring."

"You can't control its use, but you can set clearer boundaries for it. Li Hao, finish your thesis. It's not only a summary of your academic career, but also your response to this technological game."

When leaving the library, Li Hao's head still felt like it was being pressed down by a huge rock.

The shadow of DeepView always hangs over his research, and Tiktalk's current difficulties also make it difficult for him to fully concentrate.

He knew that graduating with a doctorate was a major turning point in his life, and the future of Tiktalk also required him to make wiser decisions.

“Maybe,” Li Hao murmured to himself, “the paper and TikTalk are not contradictory. I must find a way to combine the two so that my research can truly serve technological justice.”

He quickened his pace, a look of determination in his eyes.

The critical moment of his doctoral thesis is also the critical moment of his life decision. He must find a balance so that academics and reality no longer conflict with each other, but complement each other.

After returning to the dormitory, Li Hao placed his laptop on the desk and tried to concentrate on writing his thesis again.

But as soon as the document on the screen was opened, Tiktalk's current predicament emerged in his mind: the government's controlling stake agreement, Zhang Jingren's obsession with DeepView, and those forces hidden in the dark.

He took a deep breath and looked at the table of contents of the paper. The most important chapter was about the boundaries and application risks of sentiment prediction models.

This was the core of his thesis, and the part he had been unable to write.

This chapter is not just an academic discussion, but more like a dialogue with reality.

Li Hao's research borrowed the basic framework of DeepView to explore how to model emotional fluctuations and predict behavioral tendencies in multidimensional data.

This achievement made his paper highly anticipated in the academic community, but it also made him more aware of the two sides of technology:

It can promote business progress, but it can also be used to manipulate people's hearts.

He rubbed his brow with his hand and said to himself, "I must write this part clearly. Not to please the reviewers, but to make those who master the technology understand its risks."

Just as Li Hao was hesitating about how to start, a new email notification suddenly popped up on his computer screen.

The sender was Zhang Jingren, and the title contained only a few words: "We can't give up."

Li Hao opened the email, which contained only a short message:

"Li Hao, I know it's been difficult for you to focus on academics lately, but you must understand that the future of DeepView is not only my responsibility, but also your research direction. Technology is never evil; its significance is defined only by how humans use it."

You can choose to avoid it, but that is not the solution. We must face it and use it as a tool to promote social progress, rather than being used by hidden forces.

If the paper is your battlefield, use it to speak out for technological justice.”

After reading it, Li Hao gripped the mouse tightly with mixed feelings.

Zhang Jingren had always been tough, but this time, he felt a deep sense of helplessness and anticipation. He knew that Zhang Jingren was not just doing this for himself, but also hoped to use his research to gain a new position for TikTalk.

Li Hao returned to the paper framework, opened the chapter on technological boundaries, and began typing the first line:

"As technology becomes increasingly embedded in the fabric of society, the power of algorithms lies not only in what they can do, but also in what they should do. We cannot avoid the risks that technology may bring, but by establishing stronger ethical constraints and transparency mechanisms, we can make it a positive tool for promoting human progress."

As these words appeared, Li Hao's thoughts gradually became clear. He decided to include a discussion about DeepView in his paper, focusing on analyzing its potential impact and proposing several possible ways to avoid risks.

This not only makes the paper more profound, but also provides a new direction for the future of Tiktalk.

His fingers tapped rapidly on the keyboard, his thoughts ignited: "Technological transparency, ethical constraints, clear penalties for abuse... these may become the basis for solving the current dilemma."

Li Hao did not leave his seat the entire night.

He incorporated the experience of Tiktalk and DeepView into his paper, trying to provide some solutions to the current technological ethics disputes through his own research.

As the morning sunlight shone through the curtains onto the table, Li Hao finally completed the first draft of the key chapter.

His paper is no longer just an academic discussion, but a profound reflection on the future of technology and society.

Standing up, Li Hao looked at the campus scenery outside the window, with a firm look in his eyes.

He knew that TikTalk's crisis was not over and that his path to a doctorate was still long. But he finally found a balance: using his academic research to find answers to real-world problems.

"Zhang Jingren is right," Li Hao said softly, "Escape is not a solution. If this is a battle, then I have to join in in my own way."

……

The early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains into the room. Li Hao stretched himself. His shoulders were a little stiff from working at his desk for so long.

He had just opened his notebook and was about to check what he had written last night when the doorbell rang.

When I opened the door, Liu Xia was standing outside with coffee and breakfast in her hands.

"Still writing your paper?" Liu Xia glanced at the messy desk as she walked into the room, her tone slightly teasing. "Your room is almost like a battlefield. Even the soldiers need to restock their ammunition."

Li Hao smiled and took the coffee she offered him. "The battlefield is indeed correct, but my 'weapons' are a bit overwhelmed. I've been having a hard time writing my thesis lately, and the TikTalk incident keeps lingering in my mind."

Liu Xia put down her breakfast and raised an eyebrow. "When you're stuck, you need help. You forgot, I'm a marketing professional. I have some experience in guiding and expressing emotions. Maybe I can help you sort out your thoughts."

Liu Xia sat next to Li Hao and flipped through the draft of his paper.

She read very carefully, frowning occasionally or jotting down some thoughts with a pen. Half an hour later, she closed her computer and looked up at Li Hao: "The content of your paper is very profound, but there is a problem."

"What's the problem?" Li Hao raised his eyebrows.

"It's too calm and technical," Liu Xia said bluntly. "The part you wrote about DeepView, while logically clear, lacks a human touch."

“If you’re dealing with reviewers, they might appreciate your rigor, but if you want to really spark discussion, you need to incorporate more emotion and real-world examples.”

Li Hao listened and thought for a moment: "So, you think we should add more real-life stories?"

"Yes, for example, the public outcry following Zhang Jingren's disappearance, the changes within TikTalk, and even your own ambivalence as an observer," Liu Xia said with a smile. "You're not just a scholar; you're also in this storm. Why not make your paper more closely aligned with your own real experiences?"

A glint of enlightenment flashed in Li Hao's eyes. "You're right. I always try to maintain academic objectivity, but I neglect my own unique perspective. Perhaps it's these experiences that make my paper more convincing."