"In regard to the cooperation offer, Mr. Kang Bomin, I'll have to pass for now. There's just too much going on at the moment. I've got an important internal meeting coming up. We'll be in touch."
Inside her office, Zhao Min ended the holographic call and calmly placed the phone aside.
Lately, her days had been filled with calls like these—from the very same companies that once tried to block them.
When it came to regular consumer products, capital could exert pressure. But with holographic phones, things had changed. These weren't just gadgets—they were epoch-making technology. There were no real alternatives, and the global demand was undeniable.
Those who once opposed the Marching Ant Company now came crawling back with sweet words and collaboration proposals.
But Zhao Min wasn't in a rush to forgive.
Giving in too quickly would make them look weak—like they could be pressured into deals. And the Marching Ant Company wasn't built to be bullied.
"Zhao Jie, everyone's already gathered for the meeting," said Xiao Yu, stepping into the office with a file in hand.
"Let's go."
Zhao Min stood, grabbed her tablet, and headed to the conference room with Xiao Yu beside her.
The company's mobile phone business was in full swing now. With demand skyrocketing, supply was the only bottleneck. Operations there were smooth and no longer required her attention.
What came next was more important—holographic application development and the company's strategic initiative: "Artificial Intelligence+."
Though holographic projectors could already function as screens for TVs, computers, or presentations, the real potential remained untapped. Without a robust ecosystem, the hardware was just an expensive display tool.
Zhao Min understood: content was king. Holographic video calls were a flashy start, but not enough. If users didn't have rich, practical experiences, the magic of the technology would fade. Their ecosystem needed depth—games, education, work, lifestyle integration.
And the same went for AI+. Done right, it could revolutionize daily life.
When Zhao Min and Xiao Yu entered the room, chatter quickly died down.
Inside the conference room were the company's best minds: Lao Luo, Wang Sijia, Lin Shu, Wei Zhe, Lin Zhiyuan, and other tech leads, along with key executives like Li Lingfeng, Zhu Li, Li Danni, and Zhang Yi.
Most of them were young—just like the company itself.
Lin Zhiyuan, a top programmer who specialized in Chinese character code, had been transferred from the capital to the coast to join the core R&D team. Lin Shu was still a college student, but already making waves. Only Lao Luo and Zhang Yi were veterans in age; the rest were vibrant, fresh blood—quick enough to keep up with the company's rapid evolution.
Zhao Min took her seat and began.
"Alright, let's get started. Today, we have two key topics: the 'Artificial Intelligence+' program and holographic ecological applications. This meeting is to brainstorm. Don't hold back—any idea, no matter how wild, is welcome. We're just beginning, and this is the time to be bold."
"I'll start," said Wang Sijia, standing up and walking to the small podium.
She took a deep breath, then launched into her pitch.
"The boss described 'Artificial Intelligence+' as the next step beyond 'Internet+.' While 'Internet+' meant traditional industries enhanced by connectivity, 'AI+' is human-machine integration. It's not just about infrastructure or economy—it's about daily life and work.
A good starting point is habits. 'AI+' should mean artificial intelligence plus everything else in your life—from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep.
Take smart speakers, for example. Today, they can control lights, appliances, even air purifiers. But they're limited—basic commands and low-level AI. The true potential hasn't been realized yet.
So I propose the foundation of 'AI+' should be personal intelligent assistants—each user having an account-bound AI companion. Our current smart assistant 'Little Butterfly' is already integrated into mobile systems. Let's build on that.
A smart account could link to every device the user owns: phones, laptops, appliances—even vehicles. If someone logs into their account, their AI profile follows them—adjusting preferences, automating routines, and handling tasks.
We can scale it from homes to offices, even buildings. Imagine elevators that recognize your AI profile and take you to the right floor. Smart homes, smart cities, smart transport—all linked by your AI identity.
And of course, we must build in fail-safes. There's always concern about a 'smart crisis,' so we'll design mechanical overrides, permissions protocols, and mandatory human confirmation for high-level decisions."
The room fell silent as everyone absorbed her words.
She stepped down from the podium, and quiet discussion sparked across the table.
Zhao Min didn't interrupt. The conversation was flowing, and that was what this meeting was for.
"That's a solid vision," said Zhu Li, raising her hand. "But I'd like to suggest something: add a social layer. Daily life includes interaction—chatting, sharing, connecting. Shouldn't AI+ facilitate that too?"
"I disagree," said Lao Luo, frowning slightly.
"AI+," he said, "is about augmenting the mind, not the limbs. Socialization is vital, yes—but it's subjective. It involves emotion, context, intent. AI should support it, but not become it. We can create 'AI + Social' as a separate branch. But if we stuff social functions into the core AI brain, it'll dilute its purpose. Worse—it might compromise user trust."
Zhu Li paused. Others nodded thoughtfully.
Zhao Min remained quiet, letting the perspectives clash. This was exactly what she wanted—genuine debate.
Once the murmurs quieted, she spoke.
"These are valid arguments. This is a new frontier, and it's natural we have differences. Let's hold off on conclusions for now and hear more voices. Anyone else?"
A hand shot up.
"I have something," said Lin Zhiyuan, standing confidently. "I'd like to talk about holographic ecology."