“Cancel“ Button

The advertising screen in the elevator was once again replaying the promotional video for the "Worry-Free Office" app. Zhang Qiang stared at the stiffly smiling office elite on the screen, feeling a wave of nausea. He had to use this app every day to clock in, submit expenses, apply for leave, and even book a toilet stall.

Zhang Qiang was an ordinary technician, functioning like a cog set in a fixed orbit within the vast corporate machine. He disliked the "continuous monthly subscription" services on various apps on his phone the most, always feeling it was a disguised form of exploitation. A few days ago, he had seen news that a celebrity had also immediately canceled a continuous monthly subscription on an app, and he had felt quite relieved about it.

Today, he needed to submit a new project budget. In the finance module of the "Worry-Free Office" app, he once again saw the familiar "continuous monthly subscription" option, designed as a large button flashing with an alluring glow. He clicked it on a whim, wanting to see if there were any new traps.

After the interface switched, the familiar "Agree" or "Reject" screen did not appear. Instead, a striking red button appeared with the word: "Cancel".

He was a little surprised. When did the app's UI design become so user-friendly? He hesitated for a moment, then clicked "Cancel".

The screen shook, then a dialog box popped up: "Are you sure you want to cancel your continuous monthly subscription service with this company? After cancellation, you will not be able to enjoy all services provided by this company, including: salary payments, social security contributions, work permissions, etc. Please proceed with caution!"

Zhang Qiang was stunned. This continuous monthly subscription was referring to this? He looked carefully at the bright red "Cancel" button, which was sitting there quietly, like a Pandora's box, radiating a dangerous yet alluring glow.

He looked around. There were other colleagues in the elevator, all of them looking down at their phones, completely oblivious to everything. He suddenly felt a strange sense of fear, as if he had suddenly discovered that he had been living in a carefully designed game all along, and the only exit was a "Cancel" button.

On a whim, he clicked "Cancel" again. The screen shook again, and the dialog box reappeared: "You have canceled your continuous monthly subscription service with this company. All your data in this company will be cleared in 1 hour. Thank you for your use. We wish you a happy life!"

Zhang Qiang looked at his phone screen, his palms beginning to sweat. He realized the seriousness of the matter. He wanted to return to the main interface of the app, but found that only a countdown timer remained on the screen: 59 minutes and 58 seconds.

He tried to exit the app and re-enter, but found that the app had completely disappeared from his phone. He tried to log in to the company's intranet and found that his account no longer existed.

He began to panic, wanting to ask his colleagues for help, but found that they were completely unaware of everything, still chatting and laughing as usual, as if he didn't exist at all.

He rushed out of the elevator and to his office, but found his workstation empty, as if he had never worked there. His colleagues were still busy, and no one noticed his presence.

As time ticked by, Zhang Qiang felt like a ghost, wandering through the familiar office area, yet unable to integrate into it again. He watched the countdown decrease little by little in despair, finally reaching zero.

The moment the countdown reached zero, he felt an unprecedented sense of relief. Like a prisoner who had regained his freedom, he finally broke free from that cold program. He walked out of the company's gate, basking in the afternoon sun, feeling like he had been reborn as an infant.

He stood on the street, looking at this bustling world, beginning to think about what to do next. At this moment, his phone suddenly vibrated. He opened it and saw a text message: "Dear customer, your 'Worry-Free Life' app continuous monthly subscription service has expired. Would you like to renew it? This month's renewal can enjoy a 20% discount. Please click the link..."

He looked at the text message and suddenly laughed. This world was truly absurd and endearing. He clicked the link. On the screen were the familiar "Agree" or "Reject" options, and a large button, flashing with an alluring glow, with the word: "Activate Now".