Suffocating 198 Minutes
Old Chen sat in the monitoring room, staring at the scene of "The Brain" competition through the screen. The contestants were wearing special electroencephalogram monitors, expressionlessly solving a series of complex logic puzzles. The time on the LED screen ticked away, one second at a time, already at 198 minutes.
He took a deep breath and looked at the tablet in his hand, which displayed the real-time data of the contestants: heart rate, brainwave intensity, body temperature, and sweat secretion volume, all precisely recorded. These numbers determined who was the final winner. This competition, rather than being a contest of brainpower, was more like an extreme test of human endurance.
Old Chen's job was to monitor this data and ensure the "fairness" of the competition. He knew that behind this "fairness" were countless rules, agreements, and the expectations of sponsors. He used to be a loyal viewer of "The Brain," amazed by the wisdom and perseverance of the contestants. But since he entered this monitoring room, he discovered that it was all a product of precise calculation, with every link arranged flawlessly. Including, these long 198 minutes.
"Time's up," his colleague, Xiao Zhang, interrupted Old Chen's thoughts.
Old Chen nodded and pressed the stop button. The numbers on the screen stopped ticking, and the contestants slowly took off their helmets, their faces showing fatigue and bewilderment.
The results of the competition came out: contestant No. 1 won. His name was Liu Ming, a young man from a remote mountain area. He was portrayed by the media as a model of someone who is not afraid of power and fights for his dreams. His focused expression was even made into a huge poster and displayed prominently in the city square.
After the awards ceremony, Old Chen was called to the high-level office. He saw the boss sitting behind a large desk, holding a document in his hand, with Liu Ming's data report printed clearly on it.
"Old Chen, take a look at this report," the boss pointed to a number on the report, "Liu Ming's brainwaves showed abnormal fluctuations at the 180-minute mark. This indicates the effect of stimulants."
"Stimulants?" Old Chen was stunned, "But we've been monitoring the whole process, he had no chance..."
The boss smiled meaningfully and said, "Data, sometimes, can lie, Old Chen. Our purpose is not to choose the smartest person, but to create a hero with a story and marketability. This era needs heroes, doesn't it?"
Old Chen felt a sense of dizziness, and he suddenly understood. The 198 minutes were not a test of the contestants' brainpower, but a torment of human nature. And the so-called "stimulants" were just a number that could be manipulated. He looked up at the boss, wanting to say something, but found his throat was as if something was blocking it, unable to make any sound.
The next day, Old Chen resigned. He left this stage of creating "heroes," and he no longer wanted to see those people who were being controlled by data. He began collecting waste products on the streets, abandoned electronic components, those devices that had been used to record the data of "The Brain." He disassembled them, reorganized them, and used them to build a huge, chaotic sculpture, standing in the noisiest street of the city.
The shape of the sculpture was a huge brain, covered with dense wires, like countless blood vessels intertwined. At night, when the city lights came on, this huge brain flickered with red light, as if silently accusing something. People stopped to watch, talking about it, some said it was a work of art, some said it was a pile of garbage, but no one knew that hidden in this brain was a suffocating experiment about human nature.