Pedometer on a Nuclear Submarine

Old Pierre was an optimist, or at least he seemed to be. On the French Navy's nuclear submarine "Dawn," he was responsible for cleaning the toilets. It wasn't a glamorous job, but Old Pierre always hummed a little tune as he scrubbed the toilets until they gleamed, as if he were completing a work of art. His optimism was like a thin film, enveloping the damp air inside this steel behemoth.

Every day, he would open his pedometer app. A free app called "Vitality Life" recorded his steps and calories burned. This app did more than it claimed. It recorded location, altitude, and movement trajectory. Inside the submarine, Pierre's "movement trajectory" looked comical; he traversed the narrow corridors back and forth like a lost crab.

He insisted on tracking his steps daily because he was participating in a "health challenge" organized by the company. This challenge claimed to "inspire employee vitality and enhance collective cohesion." Although he couldn't see the sun or breathe fresh air in the submarine, the "health challenge" still took place on the "Dawn." He found it quite amusing. His colleague, young Andre, also participated, lifting weights in the submarine every day.

One day, Pierre's "Vitality Life" app suddenly popped up a message: "Congratulations! Your activity level ranks first this week! You have unlocked the 'Super Vitality Star' title!" Pierre smiled happily, feeling closer to the health goals of "Vitality Life." He put his phone in his pocket and continued his work.

A few weeks later, things started to go wrong. Some strangers in uniforms began to appear on the "Dawn." Their expressions were serious, and they carried tablets, walking around the submarine, occasionally staring at the pipes on the walls and the water stains on the floor. Pierre felt that their arrival had disrupted the calm on the "Dawn."

Then, he was summoned to the captain's office. A stern-faced general sat there, holding Pierre's phone. The general pointed to a dense blue line diagram on the screen and asked, "What is this?"

Pierre was confused, he leaned closer to take a look, then proudly replied, "This is my movement trajectory, General. I am participating in the 'health challenge,' and I am working hard every day. I am number one this week."

The general's face became even more unpleasant. He pointed to a red dot on the diagram and roared, "Do you know that this point is the location of our nuclear warhead storage! Your app has leaked the internal structure diagram of the nuclear submarine!"

Pierre was stunned. He looked at the trajectory of his daily walks on the phone screen, like a maze, dense blue lines. This blue now looked somewhat ironic. Like a child, his face flushed, and he stammered, "I just wanted... to participate in a challenge, to... to get the 'Super Vitality Star' title."

The general rubbed his temples and sighed helplessly. He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Hello? Is this HR? I demand the immediate cancellation of all 'health challenges'! Also, promote Old Pierre to... submarine cleaning supervisor." The general put down the phone and said to Pierre, "You did a good job, Old Pierre, your 'vitality' has given us a new understanding of the 'Dawn.'"

Old Pierre walked out of the captain's office, looked up at the ceiling, and felt that today's lighting seemed particularly glaring. The phone in his pocket was still updating the "health challenge" rankings. He had unlocked the title of "Vitality Expert," ranking second. He thought it was all so absurd. He remembered Andre, his colleague who lifted weights every day, wondering what title he had unlocked now?