Account Error
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.
"Today, I rented a spaceship in the 'metaverse,' costing $35," John reported in the group yesterday.
"You spend so much in the 'metaverse,' don't you have enough for living expenses?" Li Ming typed in response, attaching a screenshot of the 15 yuan jianbing (savory crepe) he had just bought.
"Li, today I planted a $12 tomato in my virtual farm; I don’t know when it will grow," John replied.
Li Ming shrugged and put down his phone. He felt John's life was like a science fiction novel, full of uncertainty, but it also vaguely made him feel like John's world was more "real" than his own.
That evening, Li Ming opened the "international ledger" group as usual, ready to start the day's "reconciliation." John, as usual, posted his detailed spending: $19.99 for a virtual gym membership, $8.75 for virtual pet food, $22 for a virtual concert ticket…
Li Ming looked at his own spending records. Today was a little different. Besides his morning baozi (steamed bun), he had a 20 yuan bowl of beef noodles for lunch and ordered takeout for dinner, totaling a little over 60 yuan.
“John, you spend so much money in the virtual world, don’t you think about real life?” Li Ming couldn’t help but ask.
John paused for a moment and then replied, “Li, I received a bill today, a ‘real’ bill. I owe a ‘real’ bank $12,000, and they say if I don’t pay, they’ll seize my ‘virtual assets.’”
Li Ming was stunned. He stared at the screen, his fingers trembling as he typed, "Your virtual assets can be seized by a real bank?"
"Yes, that's how it is here, Li. They say virtual assets are also assets, so they can be mortgaged and seized. Li, I feel like I'm a virtual pet in a cage now. I'm creating profit for them with my fake spending."
Li Ming was momentarily speechless. He suddenly felt his own life was becoming absurd as well. He worked hard every day for a meager income, using real money to buy real goods, yet all this "reality" felt so empty. And John, who lived in the virtual world, was using fake consumption to reveal the truth about this world.
The next day, Li Ming received a private message from John with only a few brief words: “Li, my ‘spaceship’ was taken by the bank. They said the spaceship owed $500 in repair fees.”
Li Ming stared at his phone screen. He suddenly felt that he, John, and everyone else in this world were all in the same massive "game". And the rules seemed to never belong to them.
Li Ming slowly turned off his phone screen and sighed. Tomorrow he had to start another "real" overtime shift. For life, for a "real" future, he began to wonder, who was he really living this "real" life for? Was this "reality" really as it seemed?