From American Internet Celebrity to God Among Men

65: Chapter 65 Interview: Algorithms and the Road to MillionsThe interview with The New York Times was arranged in a quiet booth at a cafe in downtown Nashville.

Reporter Sarah, a deputy editor for the cultural section in her fifties, was known for digging into in-depth character profiles.

She arrived fifteen minutes early, recording equipment and a notebook already set on the table.

Alex arrived on time, wearing a simple gray sweater and black trousers, looking more like a college student than a musician who had just provoked an arms giant on a stage of ten thousand people.

Eric, Attorney Lawson sat beside him, responsible for monitoring the boundaries of the interview.

”Mr. Su, thank you for your time,” Sarah gestured for him to sit. ”Coffee or tea?”

”Water is fine,” Alex sat down. ”Let’s start directly; I have a recording session in the afternoon.”

The interview was as direct as the email had promised.

Sarah’s questions were sharp yet professional, ranging from the creative motivation behind ”We Are Young,” to the political implications of ”Truth Hurts,” to the canyon shootout, the car bomb, and the threat letter from Northrop... She had clearly done a significant amount of homework.

”Many critics say you are using personal encounters for hype,” Sarah flipped through her notes. ”Packaging private grudges as public issues and using a ’struggle narrative’ to sell music. How do you respond?”

Alex leaned slightly forward, his hands folded on the table.

This posture made him appear both open and firm in front of the camera.

”If a person’s parents died in a suspicious plane crash, he himself has faced multiple assassination threats, and the issues he exposes involve twenty billion dollars’ worth of defense contracts—when he writes these experiences into a song, is that called ’using encounters for hype’? Or is it that in this era, only when victims disappear silently are they considered ’decent victims’?”

Sarah did not avoid his direct gaze: ”But your handling of this is extremely confrontational. Offering public bounties for evidence, naming names directly on stage, turning legal disputes into a public opinion war... is this not too radical?”

”When the legal system is infiltrated by power, when the media is influenced by capital, and when violence is disguised as ’accidents,’ what other choice does an ordinary person have?”

Alex’s voice was calm, but every word sounded precisely calibrated. ”I chose to use the only weapon I possess—creativity—to fight back. If this counts as radical, then I am curious, what is ’gentle’? Is it quietly accepting being silenced, or waiting for the FAA investigation report to be archived forever?”

Attorney Lawson tapped Alex’s leg under the table, reminding him of his tone.

But Alex did not restrain himself—he needed this interview to send a clear signal, not just to the readers, but also to Northrop and everyone watching from the sidelines.

Sarah noted this down, then turned to a more personal realm: ”You are only eighteen. Many of your peers are still worrying about college applications and weekend parties, while you are already facing life-and-death threats. How does this pressure affect your creation and your life?”

Alex paused.

This question touched upon a part of himself he rarely spoke about publicly—the sense of dissociation from living two lives, the loneliness of having a system attached to him, and the weight of having to carry the mind of an eighty-year-old in an eighteen-year-old’s body.

”Pressure makes me clearer,” he finally said. ”When you realize life can be ended at any time by a bullet or an ’accident,’ you understand more clearly what is important and what is not. Music has never been just a career for me; it is a record, it is evidence, and it is the way I prove I have lived. If I disappear tomorrow, at least these songs will remain.”

The interview lasted ninety minutes.

When it ended, Sarah turned off the recording equipment and revealed an expression rarely seen beneath her professional mask: ”Mr. Su, the report will be published on the front page of the cultural section on Sunday. I personally want to say... please take care. The world needs more voices like yours, but it also needs you to stay alive.”

Alex shook her hand: ”I will.”

As he walked out of the cafe, the system prompt sounded:

【Current Popularity: 4,280,000 points】

（Real-time discussion growth during the interview: 240,000 points）

A single interview preview and leaked snippet had brought in 240,000 points of growth. Once the official report was published, the growth would be even more considerable.

Attorney Lawson said in the car: ”Your answers were powerful, but they also pushed you further into the crosshairs. Once Northrop sees the report, their reaction will only be more intense.”

”They are already at their most intense state,” Alex looked out the window. ”What matters now is winning over the moderates—those who don’t care about the NT-7 contract, but care about creative freedom; those who don’t understand military procurement, but understand what bullying is. The essence of a public opinion war is not about convincing your opponent, but about winning over the audience.”

”You understand this very well.”

”I have read many history books,” Alex said. ”The outcome of all struggles depends on who can tell a more moving story.”

---

Over the next three days, Alex entered a high-intensity work state.

In the morning, he was in the studio, which had been converted from the basement of the farm villa, refining the technical plan for the AR project.

The basic framework provided by 【Augmented Reality Content Generation】 was solid enough, but he still needed a technical team to implement it.

Through Marcus’s connections, he contacted a small tech startup in Austin called ”Prism Labs.” The founders were a group of young engineers who had just graduated from MIT and were full of passion for ”using technology to subvert traditional narratives.”

During the video conference, Alex displayed the project prototype: after a user scanned the album cover of ”Truth Hurts” with their phone, a three-dimensional data ghost would appear on the screen, gradually displaying the timeline of the NT-7 material defects, key document snippets, and the network of associated figures.

Each information point could be clicked on for a deeper dive, and some content would require completing simple decryption games to unlock—such as rearranging scattered letters into a key piece of testimony.

”This is not just an MV; this is a participatory investigative report,” Alex shared the design drawings on the screen. ”We want users to feel that they are not just consuming content, but are uncovering the truth.”

Lena, the co-founder of Prism Labs, had bright eyes: ”The technical implementation is no problem, but the server costs will be very high—especially if, as you predict, millions of users participate at the same time.”

”Money is not the issue,” Alex said. ”What I need is speed and confidentiality. The entire project, from development to launch, must be completed within two weeks. All code must be encrypted, and team members must sign the strictest non-disclosure agreements.”

”We can do it,” Lena nodded. ”But why the rush?”

”Because the opponent will not wait for me.”

In the afternoon, Alex continued his music work.

The official MV for ”Shake It Off” still needed some shots to be filmed, and at the same time, he began preparing for the next single—this time a more personal song, tentatively titled ”Still Breathing,” about persistence under heavy pressure.

The melody was more introspective, but the explosive power in the chorus was extremely strong.

Taylor took time to visit the farm villa and remained silent for a long time after listening to the demo.

”This song... is sharper than ’Truth Hurts,’ because it is more fragile,” she said. ”It’s like you are telling everyone that you are not a fearless hero, but just a person who continues to move forward in fear.”

”That is what is real,” Alex adjusted the mixing console. ”Hero narratives are too heavy. I am just an ordinary person who doesn’t want to die and still wants to sing.”

Taylor gave him a light hug from behind, then quickly let go. There were no extra words, but the warmth of that brief hug lingered in the cold recording studio for a long time.

In the evening, Alex handled ”front-end” affairs.

Marcus reported: Universal had backed off somewhat under pressure, but had not fully yielded—they had paused Alex’s media tour, but were continuing to push the global release of ”We Are Young.” This ambiguous attitude was expected.

”The good news is that the independent label ’Voice of Resistance’ has reached out to us,” Marcus said. ”They are willing to provide distribution channels when you need them and are not afraid of any pressure. They aren’t large-scale, but they have a very good reputation.”

”Keep in touch, but don’t rush to sign,” Alex said. ”We need Universal’s platform, at least for now.”

On Hank and Rex’s side, the interrogation of ”Limping” Robert Cole had a breakthrough.

Under the condition that his family was safely relocated to Canada, he confessed the locations of three safe houses of the Guardians of Truth in North America, two sets of backup communication frequencies, and one key piece of intelligence: Northrop had suspended the ”physical handling” order for Alex, turning instead to requiring the Guardians of Truth to conduct comprehensive surveillance, especially on all his contacts with the media, lawyers, and technical teams.

”They are collecting evidence, preparing to attack from a legal level,” Hank analyzed. ”They might want to build a case for ’abuse of influence to interfere with commercial contracts’ or ’defamation damaging the company’s reputation.’”

”Then let them collect it,” Alex said. ”But we should also upgrade our monitoring capabilities.”

He opened the system and redeemed 【Information Tracing (Advanced)】.

2.5 million points deducted, remaining: 4,030,000 points.

Compared to the intermediate ability, the advanced version not only extends the tracing time to one month, but also captures more ambiguous information associations—such as ”who showed abnormal interest in this location at this time.” Coupled with 【Anti-Surveillance Detection】, he can build a preliminary active early warning network.

The moment the ability took effect, his brain seemed to plug into the city’s data stream. It wasn’t a real sensory experience, but an abstract ”Information Map”: within three kilometers of the farmhouse villa, three electronic surveillance points were operating, two of which were security cameras deployed by Rex, and the other... the signal characteristics were unfamiliar, located at an abandoned water tower 1,200 meters to the southeast.

Alex pulled up the map, marked the coordinates, and sent them to Hank: ”Check here. There might be a long-term surveillance point.”

Half an hour later, Hank sent back photos: inside the maintenance platform at the top of the water tower, a solar-powered wireless surveillance device was hidden, its lens pointed directly at the main entrance and garage of the farmhouse villa. The equipment was professional but covered in dust—it had been installed for at least two weeks.

”Remove it, but keep the exterior intact,” Alex instructed. ”Deploy our own anti-surveillance cameras nearby; I want to know who comes to maintain it or retrieve the data.”

On the fourth day, the report in The New York Times was published as scheduled.

Front-page headline: ”Between Gunshots and Notes: The Struggle and Cost of Alex Su.”

The article was six thousand words long, detailing the entire sequence of events from his parents’ plane crash to the NT-7 contract, and from the canyon shootout to his stage performance. Sarah Miller’s writing was calm but implied a slant; she didn’t directly take sides, but through the arrangement of facts, she presented a clear narrative: a teenager fighting against a vast, ambiguous, yet real power network.

The report quoted an anonymous legal expert: ”When a company can use legal letters to make business partners isolate an individual who exposes problems, we are no longer facing a simple legal dispute, but an abuse of structural power.”

It also cited a comment from a retired Air Force general: ”There were rumors about the NT-7 material problem internally long ago, but the twenty-billion-dollar contract and tens of thousands of jobs silenced all questioning voices. The courage of this young man to break the silence may be greater than those of us in uniform.”

Of course, there was also a response from a Northrop spokesperson: ”The company has absolute confidence in the safety of all its products. The FAA investigation is currently underway, and we believe there will be a fair conclusion. As for Mr. Su, we respect his artistic creation, but hope he can stop disseminating unverified information.”

Within two hours of the report’s publication, Alex’s social media followers surged by 400,000. The system notification sound was almost continuous:

【Current Popularity: 4,750,000 points】

(Explosive growth after the report was published: 720,000 points)

Single-day growth exceeded one million.

And it was still rising.

Alex sat in his studio, watching the popularity numbers jump. It was already nearing five million. At this rate, if the AR project launched successfully and the new single was released smoothly, hitting eight million points within two months was not impossible.

He was only 5.25 million away from the 10-million unlock threshold.

The 45 million points required to redeem 【Spatial Phase】 (moving through obstacles) were still far away. But at least, the door was now in sight.

He opened the transcendent exchange list, and those grayed-out options seemed a little brighter than before. It wasn’t an actual change, but a psychological projection—when a goal changes from ”unreachable” to ”possible,” one’s perception shifts.

His phone vibrated, and Taylor sent a message: ”Read the report. It’s well written. But you’ve really become a national target now.”

Alex replied: ”A target is better than being invisible. At least they have to aim.”

”There is progress from my father’s side. Regarding the ’Front Row Audience’.”

Alex sat up straight: ”Tell me.”

”It’s not someone inside Northrop, nor is it Greystone International. Signal tracing shows the information source comes from a... non-governmental organization. It’s still being investigated, but this organization seems to have been monitoring the illegal activities of multinational corporations for a long time, especially the military-industrial complex.”

”Name?”

”Not yet. But their way of transmitting information is very special—using encrypted broadcasts from old-fashioned 20th-century shortwave radios, with receivers all over the world. My father’s network only touched the edge; going deeper would require more professional infiltration, and the risk is too high.”

Alex frowned. A non-governmental organization? Shortwave radios? This sounded more like a Cold War spy network than modern hackers.

”Stop the investigation for now,” he replied. ”If they want us to know more, they will initiate contact. For now, prioritize handling the immediate threat.”

”Agreed. Also... are you free tonight? I want to show you something.”

At 8:00 PM, at Taylor’s estate piano room.

She sat at the piano with a handwritten score spread out in front of her. ”The ’Shake It Off’ you gave me brought new inspiration,” she said. ”I wrote this. It’s not complete yet, but... I want to hear your opinion.”

She began to play.

The melody was completely different from the lightheartedness of ’Shake It Off’; it was a slow, layered piano progression, like groping for light in the dark. Then her voice joined in, low and full of narrative:

”They say in the news it’s a crazy world...”

”Tell me to close my eyes, pretend not to see...”

”But I’ve seen the real things—”

”In the firelight, in the singing, in the eyes of someone who refuses to bow...”

Alex listened quietly. This wasn’t Taylor’s typical pop song; it was more like a fusion of folk and art rock. The lyrics contained a response to ’Truth Hurts,’ as well as her own observations.

In the chorus, the melody suddenly opened up:

”And I know—”

”Some battles cannot be avoided...”

”Some truths cannot be traded...”

”Some songs... must be heard.”

The last note faded, and the piano room fell into silence.

”How was it?” Taylor turned to look at him, a rare nervousness in her eyes.

Alex walked over and sat on the other end of the piano bench: ”This is one of your best works in years. But Universal won’t like it—it’s not ’commercial’ enough, too heavy.”

”I don’t care if they like it or not,” Taylor said. ”I want to collaborate with you on this one. Not like the pop duet of ’Shake It Off,’ but truly... two voices telling the same story.”

Alex looked at the score, his fingers testing a few chords on the piano keys. ”We can add a string arrangement here to build the emotion up another level. For the ending... maybe don’t resolve it completely, leave a suspended note, like a question without an answer.”

Taylor’s eyes lit up: ”Yes! That’s exactly the feeling!”

They sat side-by-side at the piano, beginning to edit, experiment, and clash. The minds of two top creators intertwined, inspiration sparking like fireworks. An hour later, the skeleton of the song was completely different—more complex, bolder, more like a miniature musical.

”This song should be at the end of my next album,” Taylor said. ”As the end of the journey... or the beginning.”

”What’s it called?”

Taylor thought for a moment: ”《Echoes in the Dark》.”

Alex nodded. A good name. All struggles, all voices, would eventually leave echoes in the dark. Perhaps faint, but present.

When he left the piano room, the night was already deep. Taylor walked him to the door: ”Alex... if one day, all of this is over. Northrop, threats, lawsuits... everything is in the past. What do you want to do?”

Alex looked up at the night sky, answering only after a long time: ”Keep creating. But maybe write something light. Like... a song about a dog napping in the sunshine.”

Taylor laughed, her laughter crisp as a bell in the night. ”Then I’ll be waiting to hear it.”

On the drive back to the farmhouse villa, Alex’s Spider-Sense suddenly emitted a low-frequency hum.

It wasn’t a sharp sting, but a kind of... feeling of being watched from afar.

He slowed down and looked in the rearview mirror. His was the only car on the country road, but that feeling of being watched persisted.

It wasn’t physical surveillance. It was an information scan.

He remembered what Taylor said about ”encrypted broadcasts from shortwave radios.” Perhaps the ”Front Row Audience” organization was, at this very moment, on some frequency, monitoring, analyzing, and recording everything about him.

And in this era where information is power, being recorded itself is a proof of existence.

He pressed the accelerator, and the car sped into the night.

The system interface quietly displayed in the corner of his vision: 4,780,000 points.

5.22 million to go.

The road was still long.

But every step brought him closer to that brilliant, yet perilous future.

And in that future, he would no longer just be an ”internet celebrity” or a ”musician.”

He would become something more transcendent.

The first sign would come very soon.