Chapter 3

"That semantic segmentation paper of yours—Robert published it."

Wood sent a Twitter message with a link attached.

I clicked it.

"Research on Semantic Segmentation Algorithms Based on Multimodal Feature Fusion." First author: Bella. Second author: Robert. Corresponding author: Robert.

My name wasn't on it.

My phone vibrated again. Wood's message: "What are you going to do?"

I didn't reply.

After applying the protector, I collected ten dollars.

That evening I opened the school's Academic Integrity Committee reporting portal, attached all my original code records and local version logs, and spent two hours writing a complete report.

Three days later, an auto-reply: Your report has been received and will be forwarded to the relevant department for processing.

Five more days passed. No news.

I called the Academic Integrity Committee.

"Case number JB20241028-007."

"Please hold—this case has been transferred to the department for handling."

"Which department?"

"Your department. School of Information Engineering. The department Academic Committee is responsible."

Academic Committee Chair: Fisher.

I closed the webpage.

After nine PM, business slowed down.

Bella appeared in front of me:

"Long time no see. You here to get a screen protector?"

She smiled slightly, took an envelope from her bag and placed it on the folding table.

"Robert asked me to deliver this."

A settlement agreement. Party A: Robert. Party B: Fiona.

Content: Party B admits to playing an AI-generated fake video due to emotional distress, causing serious reputational damage to Party A and Bella. Party B voluntarily withdraws all complaints and will apologize publicly.

Compensation: Party A will pay Party B $50,000 in emotional distress compensation and assist in connecting with advisors at other schools.

"Fifty thousand?"

"Not bad." She tilted her head. "How much do you make applying screen protectors in a day? A hundred? Two hundred? Fifty thousand is enough for half a year's work."

"You're listed as first author."

She blinked.

"Project team results—Robert has the right to assign authorship."

"I wrote the code. I ran the data."

"You used the project team's resources. The output belongs to the project team." She stood up and brushed dust off her knees. "You don't have enrollment status anymore. Even if your name were on the paper, what use would it be to you?"

She pulled out her phone from her bag, found a photo and held it in front of me.

A lawyer's letter. "Pursue criminal liability" was written clearly.

"Fiona, what have you gained from all this fighting?" She bent down, her voice as soft as if comforting someone. "Disciplinary action, suspension, sleeping under an overpass. What's the point?"

I looked at her face.

"What's the point for you?"

Her smile froze for a moment.

"You and him—what did you get? Authorship? Publication opportunities? Something else?"

"You—"

"You know you're not the first, right."

This was a bluff. But her pupils contracted slightly, clearly visible under the streetlight.

Her lips moved, but she finally retracted all expression.

"Sign within three days, or the lawyer's letter goes to your family."

Her high heels clicked away.

I folded the agreement and stuffed it in the bottom of my toolbox.

My phone lit up. An unsaved number.

"Are you the one who played surveillance footage at a group meeting?"

"Who are you?"

The other side typed for a long time.

"My name is Chloe. Five years ago, Robert was my advisor too."