Old Wang was "optimized" again. This was the third time he received a termination notice from the artificial intelligence "Deep Blue." The first two times, he managed to find new jobs with his years of experience and a bit of "human touch," but this time, the entire industry was crushed by "Deep Blue's" algorithms, and the demand for human labor had almost dropped to freezing point.

"Deep Blue's" efficiency was too high, the code was written fast and well, and bugs were almost non-existent. Bosses no longer needed human programmers who made mistakes, slacked off, or took time off. Old Wang couldn't understand why, after working hard, burning the midnight oil, and nearly losing all his hair, he was being eliminated by a cold, unfeeling program.

Old Wang is a master of slacking off at work. He is proficient in all kinds of techniques, from browsing shopping websites to watching short videos. But recently, he's been a bit distracted. Because the company is holding a lottery with the theme of "Striving for a Better Life," the prize is a "Family Dream Fund" - 100,000 yuan in cash, which has forced Old Wang to temporarily abandon the pleasure of slacking off and devote himself wholeheartedly to the daily lottery.

The lottery process is simple. After clocking in for work each day, everyone automatically gets a lottery code. The company uses a seemingly intelligent system to randomly draw the winner. Every day, Old Wang stares intently at the computer screen, waiting for that lucky number to appear, like waiting for the lottery results. He thinks that with this 100,000 yuan, he could get a bigger house for his family and send his son to a better school.

Old Li walked into the company building. Today, his task was to experience the "DeepSeek" company's latest "Efficient Memory Implant" technology. In this day and age, competition has gotten so fierce that it's reached our brains. Whoever has the larger memory capacity is more competitive. Old Li, who barely got by relying on rote memorization, had long been swept aside by the younger generation. He was adopting a "last-ditch effort" mentality, hoping to get out of his predicament with this technology.

"Don't be nervous, Mr. Li," a young man in a white coat said with a smile, placing a helmet-like device on Old Li's head. "This is just a simple memory writing process, and there will be no side effects. We will implant all the content of all the company's important meetings in the past year into your cerebral cortex."

After Old Li retired, the only pleasure in his life was to turn on the radio at exactly 7:30 every morning to listen to the familiar "News and Newspaper Digest" segment. Since his wife passed away, this had become one of the few "rituals" in his life. But today was different. Instead of news, the radio was looping a voice prompt saying, "Congratulations, you have successfully received the 2025 Spring Festival Gala Cloud Performance Certificate! Please join billions of viewers on New Year's Eve..."

Old Li was stunned for a moment, thinking: what the heck is this? He clearly hadn't clicked on any "Cloud Performance Certificate" on Taobao. Are scammers so up-to-date these days? He opened his phone and found a digital voucher on the Taobao app, stating "2025 Spring Festival Gala Cloud Performance Certificate," also printed with his name and ID number. Old Li didn't know whether to laugh or cry. This must be some marketing gimmick by a merchant, treating an old man like him as a sucker.

Zhang Qiang, a middle-aged man in his forties with a hairline retreating to the back of his head, yawned during a company meeting. This yawn, like opening Pandora's box, awakened a forgotten memory deep within his mind.

He suddenly remembered that when he joined this "Unbeatable Cosmic Innovation Technology Company" three years ago, he seemed to have signed a... non-disclosure agreement?

“Hey folks, today we're bringing you our latest smart robotic vacuum cleaner. This robot can not only automatically avoid obstacles, but also…” Li Ming said to his phone screen, forcing a professional smile. Behind him was a blue backdrop with the company logo.

The elevator doors opened with a "ding," revealing an empty car with only the dim yellow light at the top flickering weakly. Zhou Ming rubbed his bloodshot eyes and stepped inside. Today was the deadline for the launch of the new project, and he had been working overtime for three consecutive days.

"Refill! Thank you."

Li Mingyang, holding his empty glass, called out mechanically to the robot bartender behind the counter. His voice was slightly hoarse, yet it maintained an almost excited tone.

In the office, workstations are like neatly arranged tombstones, each marked with a number, accurate to two decimal places. This morning, as sunlight poured like a stream into this concrete jungle, Xiao Wang at station 374 once again stole a glance at station 375 next to him.

Station 375 is always empty.

Old Wang, carrying a bulging snakeskin bag, stood at the entrance of the high-speed train car, looking like a porter who had wandered into a high-end banquet. He checked his ticket, carriage 7, seat 10F, correct. But when he reached seat 10, he found 10A, 10B, 10C, 10D, and then it skipped directly to 10F. He rubbed his eyes, looked again carefully, and there was still no E.

"Where did E go?" he muttered to himself, his voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz.