The Miscalculated Ledger

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.

At first, Lao Li quite enjoyed this cross-border intellectual game. He used his broken English, mixed with calculation formulas, to verify each transaction with them. He meticulously calculated the USD to RMB exchange rate and the import/export tax rates. He found that his professional skills, accumulated before retirement, still shone in this virtual online world.

"Incorrect, the cost of this batch of tea should be increased by 3% for loss!" Lao Li typed this on the keyboard and sent it. Soon, an American netizen named "Mr.Smith" sent a thumbs-up emoji. Lao Li smiled triumphantly, feeling that these foreigners still needed guidance from old accountants like him.

So, Lao Li and these American netizens reconciled accounts night after night. He found the items on these lists becoming increasingly strange. Sometimes, some inexplicable things appeared, such as a bundle of “air from the future”, a bottle of “lost memories”, a box of “dream fragments”, and the prices were also bizarre. Even transactions using “happiness value” and “happiness index” as units of measurement appeared.

Lao Li began to feel that something was wrong. How could this account reconciliation become more and more outrageous? He tried to ask questions in the group, but found that the American netizens seemed bewitched, still immersed in various absurd numerical calculations, back and forth, enjoying it immensely. Mr.Smith even started using binary to represent prices, which made Lao Li, an abacus expert, completely clueless.

Finally, one day, Lao Li stared at the dense numbers on the screen and suddenly realized an alarming fact. These seemingly chaotic lists of goods were actually a massive, complex database containing his personal information and digital footprints. Each time he reconciled an account, it was equivalent to being recorded once, becoming an insignificant node in this huge database. And those so-called “air from the future” and “lost memories” were just empty symbols, intended to confuse and divert attention.

Lao Li felt a chill, as if he had been drawn into a huge digital trap. He wanted to leave the reconciliation group, but couldn’t find an exit button. He tried to turn off the computer, but found the numbers on the screen still jumping, and those absurd commodities seemed to be mocking his ignorance and efforts.

At this moment, he heard his wife's voice from outside the door: “Old man, it’s time to eat, what are you messing around with those foreigners again?” Lao Li slowly looked up, saw his wife's kind face, and the steam coming from the kitchen. He suddenly felt a deep sense of exhaustion.

He closed his computer, walked to the dining table, and picked up his chopsticks.

"What's for dinner?" he asked.

His wife smiled and said, "Your favorite braised pork."

Lao Li looked at the glistening braised pork on the plate and suddenly felt a wave of nausea. He wondered what unit should be used to calculate the price of this braised pork? RMB? Happiness value? Or those values of life, that he could never figure out, being constantly recorded in the data torrent? He fell into confusion.

He vaguely felt that he, those foreigners, and even the whole world, were being driven and calculated by a huge, invisible rule. And he was just one of them, a number, controlled by algorithms.

He suddenly missed the days when he held an abacus, precisely calculating every account. At least back then, he knew what he was calculating.

But now? He looked at the rice in his bowl and shook his head helplessly. This bowl of rice was probably also going to be calculated into some number, just like him.

Lao Li thought, perhaps the biggest mistake of his life was being too fixated on numbers. And the world's ledger can never be precisely calculated, especially the ledger of life.