It all comes down to money — or not having any.

It was November 2021. An average twenty-something young man in Seoul, Korea named Junsung Kim was on his last day as a human lab rat, a position that is known to pay well. He waited with the others in his batch for their last checkup. He sat in complete exhaustion.

“I’m going nuts. I can’t wait to go home and jump into bed…”

“Same here. Trust me, I’m never doing this again.”

This was a bioequivalence study, more commonly known as a human experiment. Junsung had been trapped for days in a hospital with others, forcing down all kinds of drugs and having his blood drawn while the researchers observed him. It was awful having to sit still for hours so that the drugs could be absorbed evenly.

At least I didn’t suffer any side effects!

“Number 13, Junsung Kim, come on in!”

“Okay.”

This experience made him realize what it was like to literally sell his body and life for money. In the room, a researcher from the pharmaceutical company in glasses asked Junsung a few questions about his body, which he answered in a daze. Finally, the researcher glanced at his chart. “Oh, Junsung, how about another job? You seem like the right person for this one,” he said.

“Ugh, I barely survived the last few days. I cannot do another one right away.”

“Oh no, you won’t need your body for this. It’s like an intelligence test organized by an IT company or something. You get 50,000 won a day, and may even get 5 million won if you do well.”

“…What?”

After all those days of being trapped in the hospital and loaning his body to the experiment, all he got was a lousy 800,000 won. Junsung snapped to attention and stared at the researcher, who handed him a business card with an address on it.

“If you’d like to participate, just tell me right now. I am supposed to notify them in advance.”

“Sure, sure. I definitely want to participate. Just tell me when I should go.”

“Oh, the details will be texted to you. But there is one condition.” The researcher’s voice trailed off, as he looked grim.

When a researcher who tests all kinds of things on human lab rats looks this serious, it must be something really terrifying. After a few moments of silence, the researcher opened his mouth. “You must provide your personal information, such as your address, social security number, academic degree, occupation, that kind of stuff…”

“…That’s what made you hesitate? It is no big deal!”

Personal information had been thrown away on the internet like scattered scraps of paper for over a decade now. Junsung nodded, thinking that MapleStory, an online game, had probably leaked his personal information a long while ago. But the researcher still had a grim look on his face. “If an IT company takes your personal information for an experiment, it could be combined with big data, which may customize the test to target you more specifically. It could be quite terrifying.”

“Nothing is more terrifying than your experiment, you know! With that money, I am willing to take all the spam texts they send me using my personal information.”

“Remember, all I did was give you this information. You are responsible for your choices.”

“… Now you’re scaring me. Are you sure this is just an intelligence test?”

Eventually, the researcher ended up registering Junsung as an applicant for the new experiment. Junsung left the room with the business card in hand.

[Venue for the Turing test selection round]

Apple Building, 25, Namdaemun-ro 1-gil, Jung-gu, Seoul

Turing test, huh?

Whatever it was, he had to admit that it sounded kind of cool.

[While your qualifications were very impressive, unfortunately we do not have enough openings for all competent candidates. We hope we get a chance to work with you in the future…]

“Damn it, just say I’m rejected and get it over with.”

Fall 2021 was particularly cold in Korea. There was no fall at all — winter had arrived right after summer.

Junsung Kim, a man aged 26 years in Seoul, graduated from Hongik University where he had studied creative writing and was now looking for a job. He had just received yet another rejection. All he had right now was the 800,000 won he had received after participating in the bioequivalence study, most of which he was going to use to repay the interest on his student loan that now came up to 40 million won.

“Sure, Mom. I am doing okay. Of course, I am applying everywhere. Yeah, I am trying!”

Over the last two years, Junsung was able to blame the COVID-19 pandemic for his joblessness and actually enjoyed staying that way. However, now, he began to feel the pinch. Of course, it wasn’t easy to get a job just because he wanted to. It was generally known that not many jobs were available for liberal arts majors. He realized that this was even more so for creative writing majors. He just decided to write “High school graduate” in his next resume.

“…Am I in the right place?”

Junsung arrived at the venue for the intelligence test he had been informed of a few days ago. The building seemed empty, save for a small shopping arcade that seemed like it was about to shut down.

Is anyone even here in this building?

When he got to the second floor as instructed in the text, he heard a loud voice from inside. It sounded like an argument was underway. Inside the room, there was a guy around Junsung’s age, somewhere in his twenties, raising his voice and complaining to a woman behind the front desk.

“I came all the way here on three different modes of transport. Come on!”

“I am sorry, but I am just a part-timer here. We gave you money for transportation. It’s 50,000 won, and maybe this can make up for your disappointment.”

“I do not want 50,000 won. I wanted to take the test that will pay me 5 million won! 50,000 won is nothing! You expect me to buy what, 10 lottery tickets with this or something?”

“Well, I am sorry, but there’s another visitor I should attend to.”

The woman behind the desk quickly changed the subject as she glanced at Junsung. Ignoring the complaining guy, she addressed Junsung. “Are you here for the chance to earn five-million-won in an intelligence test?”

“Oh, um, yeah, I am.”

“Please go through that door. Oh, and take your 50,000 won right now for your participation and transportation.” She handed him 50,000 won, and pulled out her smartphone, clearly suggesting that she was no longer bothered by either of the guys there. The complaining guy glanced at Junsung.

“So, you’re also here to make some easy dough?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s a complete waste of time, damn it.”

What a rude guy! Junsung was annoyed with this guy’s attitude. However, he had so many questions about this experiment and this guy had the potential to be a really valuable resource. When Junsung looked at him curiously, the guy shook his head. “Nothing much in there, just some small talk for like five minutes, maybe? Then you’re out. All I got is this money, and that’s it! I am out!”

“Isn’t that the test? What’s it about?”

“Nothing! I am telling you, there’s just… nothing!”

“Huh…?”

All this time, Junsung had been so petrified of what he was about to walk into, but all he found here was a furious guy telling him that there was nothing at all!

Junsung briefly wondered what was going on, but he took one look at the bill for 50,000 won in his hand and headed for the door, thinking, Whatever. It’s all about perspective. Getting 50,000 won for a five-minute conversation? Not bad at all!

The research assistants in college used to just toss him a bread roll or something after making him take a survey for one hour. Junsung stood in front of the door with a big sign on it that read: “Turing test in progress.”

“Um… Are you in the middle of something? Can I come in?”

[Come in.]

A computerized voice!?

Definitely unusual. Junsung turned the doorknob and walked in slowly.

The room was very simple. It looked like a counselor’s office. There was just one desk in the middle with two chairs on either side. There was a big sign on the wall that read: “Turing test in progress.” A man sat across the room on one side of the table, facing the door. Junsung slid into the chair across from him and greeted him. “Nice to meet… Oh.”

The man was dressed from head to toe: in a black coat, a fedora, and white gloves. Junsung was thrown off by the black-and-white mask with a yin-yang pattern on the man’s face. There was definitely something suspicious about his getup.

[Hello.]

“Um, hello.”

The voice was computerized and sounded like that of a robot. Junsung began to sweat. He was perplexed and even awed by the uncanny mood. The man remained still as he faced Junsung. He began speaking, listing Junsung’s personal information.

[Junsung Kim, male, aged 26 years. Living in Daerim 1-dong, Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seoul. Graduated from Seoul Campus of Hongik University, majored in creative writing. Correct?]

“Correct. My personal information is all over the place, huh?”

[It is modern society, after all.]

“Ha ha, you’re right.”

It was almost funny, hearing such a sarcastic comment in a dry, computerized voice. Junsung relaxed a little, and the masked man got right to the point.

[We are recruiting players for a game called the Turing test.]

“A game? Not for labor or an experiment?”

[It is a kind of experiment. But for the players, it is a game.]

Junsung struggled to figure something out here, but the name of this game did not ring a bell. He waited for the masked man to tell him more. But the man asked him a question instead.

[Let me ask you a question first. Do you know what the Turing test is?]

“I… think I’ve heard of it… somewhere…”

[Maybe not. You may look it up.]

“You’re not going to explain it to me?”

Junsung grumbled under his breath about the man’s nonchalance, but after all, it was Junsung’s own loss. He pulled out his smartphone and searched for “Turing test.” He read the first sentence on Wikipedia out loud. “The Turing test, originally called the imitation game by Alan Turing in 1950, is a test of a machine's ability to exhibit intelligent behavior equivalent to, or indistinguishable from, that of a human. Turing proposed that a human evaluator would judge natural language conversations between a human and a machine designed to generate human-like responses…….”

[Do you understand?]

“So it is a test to distinguish between a human and Artificial Intelligence?”

[Right. Humans win if they successfully distinguish between the two. If not, Artificial Intelligence wins.]

“Okay. So?”

[…….]

An indescribably long silence followed.

Although Junsung was now done searching and understanding what the Turing test was, the masked man remained silent. As the silence continued, Junsung tilted his head to one side, confused. “Hey, so now I get what the Turing test is. Aren’t you going to say anything else?”

[You may collect 50,000 won from the front desk on your way out. Thank you.]

“Wha-? What?”

Junsung recapped all the events that unfolded in the last hour: A test subject was called into a room. A man fully dressed from head to toe in thick clothes, a mask, and a hat with a computerized voice waited inside the room. He made the test subject look up the “Turing test” on their smartphone, and then said goodbye. If this was what the intelligence test was about, who could actually give the right answer and pass this test?