Invisible Overtime

"Another day full of energy!" Zhang Qiang muttered to himself, facing the company mascot on his computer screen – a gear always smiling. His company, "Efficiency First," had recently implemented a "Flexible Work System PLUS," which was beautifully named "Time Freedom, Efficiency First."

The core of this system was "invisible overtime": employees could handle work at any time as long as they completed their tasks on time. The company no longer had clear working hours; employees could use their own time to work. To encourage everyone to join, the company also launched an app called "Time Bank," which could record employees' working hours and give corresponding "time coin" rewards, which could be exchanged for goods in the company's welfare mall.

At first, Zhang Qiang thought it was great! He finally didn't have to squeeze onto the subway every day, nor did he have to pretend to work at his workstation. He could reply to emails while watching sports games, and he could have video meetings while making coffee. However, after a month, Zhang Qiang found that his life was completely eroded by work.

He began to get used to replying to urgent customer emails at two in the morning, used to secretly handling work while watching movies with his family on weekends, and used to carrying his computer wherever he went. He discovered that the so-called "time freedom" was just a meticulously packaged "time cage." He even forgot when the last time he truly rested was.

What was even more terrifying was that the company also launched a "time race." The app would update each employee's "time coin" leaderboard in real time. The top-ranked employees would receive praise from company leaders and receive more "time coin" rewards. As a result, colleagues began to "compete" frantically, all comparing who had the longer "invisible overtime" and who had more "time coins."

Zhang Qiang began to feel weary. He looked at the constantly rolling "time coin" numbers on the app and felt like a hamster trapped in a cage, running endlessly on a wheel. He tried to reduce his working hours, but found it was almost impossible. Those seemingly free working hours had been fragmented into countless pieces, infiltrating every corner of his life.

One day, Zhang Qiang was eating in the company cafeteria when he overheard his colleagues talking.

"I was still handling customer complaints at three o'clock last night!" colleague A boasted while yawning.

"I'm even better, I was woken up by the boss's call at five o'clock this morning and told to revise the plan quickly!" colleague B said proudly.

"You guys are too weak, I didn't sleep at all yesterday in order to meet the deadline!" colleague C raised the energy drink in his hand, as if holding a banner of victory.

Zhang Qiang looked at their tired yet excited faces and suddenly felt a wave of sadness. He quietly finished his meal and returned to his workstation. He opened the "Time Bank" app and looked at his "time coin" balance, and suddenly felt that these numbers were meaningless.

He closed the app and opened a blank document. He did not start writing a work report, nor did he start replying to emails. Instead, he started writing some unrelated things. He wrote about the cartoons he liked in childhood, the places he dreamed of traveling, and the smile of the girl he loved. He felt that it had been a long time since he had thought so freely.

Just then, his phone rang; it was a message from his boss: "Zhang Qiang, today's report has not been submitted yet, half of your 'time coins' for today will be deducted."

Zhang Qiang did not reply. He continued to write his own things until a piece of code appeared on the screen. He found that this code was actually written by himself, and he himself had no recollection of when he had written it. He stared at the code for a long time, feeling like he had become part of a machine, no longer himself.

He gently pressed enter, compiled and ran the code. A string of text appeared on the screen: "Welcome to, the World of Efficiency First." Then, his computer went black without any warning. He tried to restart, but the computer did not respond, as if it had been permanently turned off.

Zhang Qiang was stunned for a moment, then he laughed. He got up, left the company, and disappeared into the vast night. He felt incredibly relaxed, as if he had unloaded a heavy burden. He knew that he had finally escaped from that "time cage," and although he had lost everything, at least he had regained his own time.

He just didn't know that in a monitoring room at the company headquarters, a staff member wearing headphones was looking at the computer screen, recording his "Time Bank" account balance, and then, gently clicking a delete button.