The Secret of High-Speed Rail Horns

Li Mingyuan took a deep breath, as if performing some solemn ritual, while staring at the photo of the high-speed rail seat on his phone screen. For three consecutive days, he had been using his four-hour daily commute to study these horns. What was the purpose of those two plastic protrusions that extended from the top of the seat, curved like ram's horns? It couldn't be a “useless” design; there had to be a deeper meaning!

He was a corporate slave in an internet company, "grinding" to the extreme. His cubicle was his battlefield, and these horns on the high-speed rail seat had become his mental refuge from reality. While his colleagues were discussing new project KPIs and his superiors were spouting rhetoric about “struggle culture,” Li Mingyuan was quietly observing these inconspicuous little things.

He had tried all sorts of possible explanations: hooks for hanging coats? No, they were too small and couldn't hold anything. Crash buffers? Wrong, they were too hard; it hurt when you bumped into them. Armrests? Even less likely, their position was too high to reach. He had even searched countless times online, read numerous so-called "high-speed rail science articles," but the horns still maintained their mysterious aura.

Today, Li Mingyuan decided to do more than just observe. He arrived at the high-speed rail station early and deliberately chose a window seat. He pulled out his notebook and began to record detailed information. The material of the horns, their hardness, color, and curvature—he was meticulous, like an archaeologist. The surrounding passengers were looking at him with strange eyes, but he didn't care.

The train started. Li Mingyuan lightly touched a horn with his hand: cold, smooth. He suddenly wondered if they were used to connect something. He looked around and found that all the seats had the same horns, neatly arranged, as if for some ritual. He closed his eyes, trying to use his imagination to connect these horns. He seemed to see countless transparent threads extending from the horns, connecting to the entire carriage, even the entire high-speed rail, forming a massive network.

This idea excited him, and he decided to test his conjecture. He turned on his phone, connected a miniature audio transmitter via Bluetooth, and then used double-sided tape to stick the transmitter onto a horn. He wanted to see if the horn was a signal receiver.

He sat in his seat, waiting quietly. Time passed, but no sound came through his headphones. Had he been wrong? He was somewhat disappointed. He picked up his phone, preparing to remove the transmitter.

Just then, a faint mechanical voice came through his headphones, a deep, muffled sound, like a whisper from the distant deep sea: "Welcome to Line 17, your personal information has been synchronized. Please continue to maintain your posture and cooperate with energy collection."

Li Mingyuan's heart jumped, as if struck by an electric current. He looked around; the other passengers were expressionless, some were sleeping, others were scrolling through their phones, and no one seemed to have heard the sound. He realized that he, and only he, through the transmitter connected to the horn, could hear the voice.

"Energy collection?" Li Mingyuan murmured to himself. He carefully observed his surroundings again, the passengers on their seats, their expressions all numb, their eyes hollow. Could it be that the horns weren't for connecting signals, but... for collecting human energy?

He suddenly thought about the company's "clock-in" system, forcing employees to "clock in" every day, the high-intensity work, and the endless overtime—wasn't all of that done to obtain more "energy?" And these horns on the high-speed rail, were they like the clock-in machine at the company, also absorbing people's energy?

He felt dizzy. It was as if he had discovered the truth, but this truth was more absurd and terrifying than he had imagined. He looked down at his phone, and an icon flashed on the screen—the company's mandatory app, "Strive on, young people!" He smiled bitterly, opened the app, and clicked on the familiar "clock-in" button.

The train slowly pulled into the next station, and another batch of numb people poured into the carriage. The horns continued to gleam with a cold light, silently continuing to collect energy.