The Egg Under the Filter

It's 2045, a year shrouded in both smog and information cocoons.

I'm sitting in my cramped rental room, refreshing the job website for the Nth time. On the page, titles like "Senior Short Video Emotional Blogger," "AI Mood Regulator," and "Metaverse Virtual Asset Appraiser"... these glamorous positions are like soap bubbles, shimmering under the screen's blue light, only to quickly burst.

And me, Li Ming, a 35-year-old "old" man. On my resume, apart from the neatly written "Ten Years of Traditional Media Editing," the rest is empty, much like my stomach at this moment.

"Li, looking for a job again?" Aunt Wang from next door, holding a bowl of steaming... instant noodles, poked her head in. "If you ask me, don't be so picky. Aunt Zhang's nephew downstairs, he's selling virtual jianbing guozi in the... 'Metaverse,' making tens of thousands a month!"

I smile bitterly. Virtual jianbing guozi? This magical, absurd reality.

Ten years ago, I was a passionate young man, firmly believing in the power of words, dreaming of writing chapters that could change the world. But now, the world has changed, and I'm trapped in this reality where the wind blows in from all four sides.

"Times have changed, Li." My old classmate, now a "top live-streaming influencer," Chen Xiaofeng, told me at a gathering with a tone of someone who's been there, done that. "Now it's the era of traffic, the attention economy. Your stuff is outdated!"

He held up his phone, the screen displaying his exaggerated smile and the mountains of luxury goods behind him. "See that? This is 'success'! This is the 'hard currency' of this era!"

I looked at him and suddenly felt a sense of unfamiliarity. That face, under the beauty filter and heavy makeup, was like a delicate mask, concealing all real textures and emotions.

That night, I had a dream.

In the dream, I was walking in a huge chicken farm. All the chickens were wearing strange glasses, clucking and scrambling towards a giant screen. On the screen was a glittering... egg.

"What is this?" I asked a chicken beside me.

"This is 'success'!" The chicken looked at the screen with a fanatical gaze. "As long as we keep producing 'perfect' eggs, we can get the reward of 'success'!"

I looked down at the egg in my hand. It was ordinary, even a little dirty.

"Your egg is no good!" The chicken looked at me disdainfully. "You're not wearing the 'filter'!"

It pointed to its own glasses. "Put them on, and you'll see the 'perfect' egg! You'll get 'success'!"

I took the glasses and put them on.

In that instant, I was shocked.

The egg in my hand became golden and dazzling, flawlessly perfect.

I frantically threw it at the screen, and then I got a bigger, brighter... golden egg.

I was immersed in this illusory "success," unable to extricate myself. Until one day, I noticed that there were fewer and fewer chickens in the farm, and those "golden eggs" were also getting lighter and more hollow.

I took off the glasses and realized that those "golden eggs" were just a thin layer of gold foil, with nothing inside.

And those missing chickens, all because they couldn't produce "perfect" eggs, had been thrown into the garbage dump.

I woke up in a cold sweat.

Outside the window, the smog was still thick. I turned on my phone, and my WeChat Moments feed was still filled with various displays of "success": luxury cars, mansions, lavish trips...

I suddenly realized that I hadn't seen a real egg in a long time.

Those eggs in the market, with the scent of earth, with various imperfections, but truly existing.

I turned off my phone and walked out of my rental room.

I want to see those real, unfiltered eggs.

Perhaps, under that rough shell, lies the most scarce treasure of this era, called "reality."