K, weary of the office air thick with a mixture of dust and despair, decided to climb a mountain during the holiday. He'd heard of one on the outskirts of the city, not high, but with views said to cleanse the soul. He needed cleansing, desperately. The city felt like a vast, sticky web, and he sensed he was being slowly digested. The mountain, perhaps, was a pocket of reality outside the web.
Li Ming awoke from a state of chaos and habitually glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand: 7:00. Outside the window, it was dim and gray, as if covered by a perpetually dirty rag. His building was always like this, shrouded in perpetual gloom.
I awaken to find myself in a vast labyrinth made of numbers. The walls shimmer with a cold fluorescence, constantly scrolling with various data: GDP, CPI, PMI… All of it revolves around a core number: 5%.
"5%," a voice echoes in my ear, low and mechanical, "This is the growth target for this year. You must find the path to 5%."
Li Ming received a letter, a letter from the tax bureau. The envelope was thin, light, as if it carried not paper, but a kind of void judgment. He opened the letter and read the words "tax refund," a feeling of inexplicable joy surged in his heart, immediately replaced by a deeper doubt.