44 posts tagged with "absurdity"

  "Dodging Spring, please look for [Time Capsule] Dodging Spring Office, we serve you 24/7!"

Old Wang runs a small gold shop. Nowadays, who even buys gold? The busiest time in his shop is when the garbage collector passes by in the morning, taking a glance at the dull gold ornaments in the window. But recently, the price of gold has skyrocketed like a rocket, yet Old Wang's shop has become even more deserted.

He couldn't understand it, until Xiao Zhao, a tech enthusiast from the coffee shop next door, explained the concept of "quantum gold" to him. It is said that this new type of gold is not a metal in the traditional sense, but rather, through some quantum technology, consciousness and data are encrypted and stored in a microscopic structure. It can achieve various incredible functions, even curing diseases and prolonging life.

Old Wang is an old coder at the company, with more hair than code, but he has a good attitude, known as "Optimistic Old Wang." This year, the company's performance is good, and the year-end bonus is said to be very generous. Old Wang stared at his phone, waiting for the text message that would confirm his bonus payment. With a "ding," the message arrived, and Old Wang excitedly opened it, only to see it clearly state: Year-end bonus: 1.00 yuan.

"One... one yuan?" Old Wang rubbed his eyes, thinking he was mistaken. He opened it again, and it was still 1.00 yuan. He ran to the finance office and questioned Xiao Li, who was responsible for issuing bonuses. Xiao Li adjusted his glasses and said helplessly, "Old Wang, your year-end bonus isn't one yuan, it's '1.00 quantum unit of year-end bonus'."

　　Old Wang, carrying his rusty little stool, skillfully squeezed into the only cinema still operating in the county. He wasn't there to collect recyclables, nor was he there to join the crowd; he was there to watch a movie. Since the cinema introduced "seatless tickets," he had already come three times.

　　A piece of red paper was posted at the cinema entrance, with thick black characters stating: "Movie Viewing Notice: In response to the national call to conserve resources, this cinema now offers seatless tickets. Please bring your own bench." The handwriting was crooked, like a primary school student's casual scrawl. Old Wang thought the writing was much like the "No Peeing" sign posted in front of his house – meant for people to see, yet not really meant for them.

The stage lights dimmed, and the music abruptly stopped. The entire audience erupted in thunderous applause, surging like a tide. Spotlights illuminated again, focusing on the group of perfectly synchronized robots in the center of the stage. They had just completed an astonishing dance, with fluid movements and precise timing, as if they possessed human emotions.

Zhang Qiang stood backstage, a tired smile on his face. He was responsible for the maintenance and control of these robots. This was his third consecutive year participating in the Spring Festival Gala production, witnessing the progress of technology and the indifference of human emotions each year. This year, his team had spent countless days and nights just for this few minutes of perfect presentation. He knew it was not just about the company's reputation, but also his belief in technology.

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?

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.

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.

Li Ming never expected that his casual wish on Taobao would actually come true.

That day after work, he was, as usual, squeezed into the subway, like a sardine in a can. The crowding, the noise, the smell of sweat, and the endless fatigue tormented him day after day. He suddenly had a thought, an absurd thought, but perhaps in this kind of life, absurdity was the only true solace. He opened Taobao and wrote in the wishing pool: I want a bus.

The cold wind was like sandpaper, ruthlessly chafing Li Ming's cheeks. He tightened his old cotton coat and continued his arduous trek on the mountain path. With only three days left until the New Year, he had to get back to his hometown before New Year's Eve, no matter how difficult it was to buy train tickets, no matter how hard this mountain road was to traverse.

Li Ming was a junior at a regular university in Wuhan. This time, he hadn't been able to buy a direct train ticket home and had to transfer several times. The last part of his journey required him to hike through a mountain forest. He knew that there were wild boars in the area during the winter, and the villagers had set up some electric fences to hunt them, so he was extra careful.