45 posts tagged with "Absurd"

The train jolted violently, and the screeching sound of the brakes cut through the heavy air. A mechanical, calm female voice came over the loudspeaker: "Passengers, train D3014 has made an emergency stop due to hitting an unidentified object. Please be patient while our staff addresses the situation."

Wang Ming sighed and put down his newspaper. This was the third time this month the train had stopped due to an "unidentified object." The first time, it hit a plastic bag; the second, a torn raincoat; and now, it was an "unidentified object." He rubbed his temples, the view outside the window was a monotonous grey, matching his mood.

Before retiring, Old Wang rented a safety deposit box at a bank and put all of his family's heirloom gold and silver into it. He always felt uneasy keeping these items at home, believing it was more secure in the bank. He carefully read the safekeeping contract three times; the bank's seal was a vivid red, and his name was neatly written as the depositor.

Master Li had been working at "Old Chengdu" hot pot restaurant for seven years, making him a veteran. His expertise wasn't in stir-frying spices, but in recognizing angelica. The angelica used in the restaurant was all hand-picked by him. He said that good angelica has a special fragrance, and smelling it for a long time can calm your heart.

He was responsible for the miscellaneous tasks in the back kitchen. His daily job was to spread out bundles of angelica, pick out the ones with poor appearance, and then slice them according to the standard and dry them. When slicing angelica, he was always very serious, as if he were sculpting a work of art. At this time, he would always hum the songs he loved to sing when he was young, songs he learned when he was a soldier. He had long forgotten the lyrics, but the tune was imprinted in his bones.

Li Ming, a programmer toiling away at a software company in Beijing, found his greatest pleasure each evening before bed in scrolling through the "international ledger" – a spontaneous "account reconciliation" activity organized by netizens from different countries that had sprung up seemingly out of nowhere. This "reconciliation" was essentially a group of people from various nations posting their daily expenses on digital payment platforms and "cross-checking" with each other.

Initially, everyone was just having fun, comparing spending levels in different countries. But gradually, it evolved into something of a ritual. Li Ming looked forward to seeing the daily statement of "John," an American netizen. John's statements were always peculiar. One day he'd buy a $3.99 bag of "air," and the next he'd spend $25 on a virtual hat in some virtual space.

Old Wang had been with the company for fifteen years, growing from a naive intern to a balding, middle-aged man. He had participated in countless projects, witnessing the company's entire journey from a small workshop to a listed corporation. His workstation, much like himself, was old but carried too many memories.

Recently, the company launched a "trade-in" event, encouraging employees to bring in their old computers, old phones, and even old office supplies. The company would provide a trade-in value based on an assessment, allowing employees to purchase new products. Old Wang thought it was just a normal promotion, but it turned out to be a grand performance art by the company.

Before retirement, Lao Li was an accountant at a factory, adept at the abacus. After retiring, he became addicted to the internet. Not for news or chatting, but for enthusiastically “reconciling accounts” in various forums. Not really for money, but for the pleasure of precise, error-free numbers. He often said, "This world is full of fluff, only numbers are real."

Recently, he became engrossed in reconciling accounts with a group of American netizens. It began with several mysterious lists of goods, with a mix of items ranging from Chinese tea to American coffee, and prices in both RMB and USD, like a large global trade mystery box. Most of these netizens were Americans. Lao Li guessed they were probably from the finance industry, very sensitive to numbers.

The day Lao Wang decided to resign, the sky was gray, much like his current mood. He had worked at this company for a full ten years, transforming from a fresh graduate to a "Lao Wang" with thinning hair. He liked it when people called him that, it had a touch of self-deprecation and a helpless kind of intimacy.

In these ten years, he had written countless lines of code, like a craftsman polishing his work. He was used to the sound of the keyboard, used to the glow of the screen in the late hours, and used to struggling in countless bugs. He thought he had become one with these codes, like a part of his body.

Wang Meilin's fingers trembled slightly as she typed the express delivery tracking number into her phone. Two boxes of yogurt, or rather, "special supply" yogurt worth 125,000 yuan, were about to fly thousands of miles to her "boyfriend," a man she had never met.

Old Li has recently become obsessed with watching the 999 Cold Remedy commercials. Not because he has a cold, but because the line "There's always warmth on the road" inexplicably brings him a sense of comfort. He works overtime every day until late at night, is crammed into the subway like a sardine, and then has to face mountains of reports when he gets home. He feels like a screw, tightly screwed onto the company's machine.

Old Li's mobile phone number ends in seven zeros. Not many people know about this. In the small city, he was just an ordinary worker, taking the bus, eating in the cafeteria, and watching TV at home in the evening. Until one day, a strange phone call broke his peaceful life.