Today marks the tenth anniversary of AlphaGo's victory over Lee Sedol. Human memory is strange; we remember what we were doing during significant events: At that time, I was in sixth grade, walking home from school, and when I heard the news, I felt dizzy: before the match, I had bet all my Yicheng Go points on Lee Sedol winning—years of hard-earned points wiped out in one night. I thought that compared to creating flying cars, defeating human chess players should be a more difficult task, but it was surprisingly easily cracked. In elementary school, we were asked to write essays imagining the future ten years ahead, and I could only think of hardware: besides flying cars and spaceships, I was also very obsessed with vacuum tube transportation—little did I know that none of these three things became widespread, as the atomic world is too slow. But looking back, reality is more exciting than the fantasies of that time: the internet has distorted space, AI has distorted time, the rendering precision of the cyber world is growing exponentially, and AGI is just around the corner—back in 2016, the Transformer hadn't even been invented yet. Peter Thiel criticized our desire for flying cars, but what we got was 140 characters, believing this is the trivialization of innovation. In a sense, I really don't think we should blame Silicon Valley or the venture capital industry: room-temperature superconductors, controlled nuclear fusion, and quantum computing are all incredibly challenging physical topics, and trying to mass-produce flying cars before achieving such monumental breakthroughs is like Armstrong landing on the moon—it's merely symbolic. The scientific community has become a wise but slow old man, from running a century ago, to walking decades ago, and now to stumbling—human wisdom has reached a dead end. A friend said their research team is working on a vertical project to develop an agent that reproduces papers using Claude Code; they can almost reproduce all the articles in this field, and it feels like before they can even publish a paper, they will be replaced by AI. The entire research group is anxious about what to do after losing their jobs. The conclusion of the discussion was to work hard to increase the interpretability of this black box called AI. At first, I found it puzzling and asked: what’s the point? The answer was: humans dislike black boxes, regardless of their research value. History and reality finally converge at one point: the extent to which humans can claim territory in the universe does depend on spaceships, but the sense of meaning for humanity comes from the world of ideas—no matter how advanced the atomic world is, if the cyber world is desolate, people will still be unsatisfied. 140 characters are very important.