The Password Predicament

These days, numbers haunt everyone like ghosts. Would you call this "progress"? I don't see it that way. At least, for this elderly man lying on a stretcher, the numerical password is more fatal than his illness.

Pushing the stretcher is the old man's son, his face a mask of anxiety, beads of sweat larger than soybeans. The old man, meanwhile, is semi-conscious, tubes snaking across his body, occasionally convulsing. Doesn't this scene resemble a postmodern painting? Absurd, yet so real it makes your heart clench.

The bank's lobby is kept very cold, the usual "Serve the People" slogan displayed on the icy marble wall, appearing particularly ironic.

"My father is critically ill and urgently needs money!" The son is almost begging, "We have the password, we have the passbook, why can't we withdraw the money?"

The teller, impeccably made up, has a sweet voice, but her words, like the air conditioning in the lobby, are devoid of warmth: "I'm sorry, sir, according to regulations, the account holder must be present in person..."

"In person?" The son raises his voice, "Look at my father, in this state, how can he be here 'in person'? What kind of regulation is this? Are you trying to kill him?"

The teller maintains her professional smile: "Sir, please calm down. These are the regulations, there's nothing we can do."

"Regulations? Regulations are rigid, but people are alive! Can't you be flexible?"

"I'm sorry, sir, we are not authorized to be flexible."

A crowd begins to gather, whispering. Some take out their phones and start recording. These days, everything is fast, and news travels even faster.

"What kind of world is this!" An elderly woman in the crowd sighs, "He's about to die, and he can't even withdraw his own money!"

"Exactly, this bank is too inflexible!"

"You can say that again, money is more important than life these days!"

The son's eyes are red, he looks at his father on the stretcher, helpless, desperate. He suddenly kneels down and kowtows to the teller: "Please, save my father, I'm begging you!"

The teller is startled, but still doesn't budge: "Sir, please don't do this, I really can't do anything."

"Can't do anything? You really can't do anything?" The son suddenly laughs, a desolate laugh, "Okay, okay, okay! I understand, I understand!"

He stands up, walks to the bank entrance, and shouts to the outside: "Everyone, come and see! This is our bank! These are our regulations! You have the password but you can't withdraw the money, they're trying to kill people!"

The crowd becomes agitated, some start shouting along, some start jeering. The bank's security guards arrive, trying to stop them, but the situation is already out of control.

At this moment, a middle-aged man in a suit walks over, he is the bank manager. He looks at the old man lying on the stretcher, then at the tearful son, and frowns.

"What's going on?" he asks.

The teller briefly explains the situation.

The manager is silent for a moment, then says: "Special circumstances, special handling. Give him the money."

The teller is stunned: "Manager, this doesn't comply with the regulations..."

"Regulations are rigid, but people are alive!" The manager interrupts her, "If there's a problem, I'll take responsibility!"

The teller finally starts processing the withdrawal. The son looks at the recovered money, without a trace of joy, only endless sorrow.

This farce quickly spread across the internet. Some said it was the bank's cold-bloodedness, some said it was the rigidity of the system, and some said it was the tragedy of the times.

But for me, it's more like a Kafkaesque fable: in an absurd world, people are trapped by the rules they created, unable to move.

The password was originally intended to protect the security of our property, but in this story, it has become a shackle that imprisons life. Is this technological progress, or the regression of humanity?

I think this is not just the problem of this bank, nor just the tragedy of this old man. This is the dilemma that everyone in our time may face: we are surrounded by numbers, bound by rules, but it is becoming increasingly difficult to feel the warmth between people.

When technology and rules override humanity, should we stop and think about what kind of world we really want?

A cold, efficient, but completely devoid of warmth world? Or a warm, humanized world, even if it has some flaws?

This is a question that each of us should deeply ponder.