Old Wang was holding a bowl of instant noodles, his eyes glued to the screen. The Spring Festival Gala was in the middle of a skit, Shen Teng's familiar face contorted as he tried to elicit laughter from the audience. But Old Wang thought this year's skit seemed a bit weak, the jokes were awkward, even forced. He put down his chopsticks, picked up the remote, and habitually opened the bullet comments.
The conference room was silent, everyone waiting for the arrival of the "zero employee." He was a legend at DeepSeek, an AI without a physical body or emotions, but capable of solving all problems. The large screen on the wall lit up, and a simple blue dot appeared in the center – the embodiment of the "zero employee."
Li Ming habitually took out his phone and scanned the QR code on his high-speed rail ticket. The ticket gate beeped and released him, and he dragged his suitcase into the waiting hall. The screen displayed train information, and he confirmed the train number and platform, and skillfully found his carriage.
Train conductor Li Ming sighed, looking at the empty train car. It was another G233 high-speed train with only him on board, traveling from Beijing to Shanghai. Ever since the implementation of the new seat reservation system, his daily work felt like acting to an empty room. There were very few passengers, but that was not the strangest part. The weirdest thing was that, no matter which train it was, there was always an "E seat" that was booked but never actually occupied.
Old Wang was a small-time streamer, consistently going live at 8 PM every night to showcase his cooking skills, which had been seasoned by time and cooking fumes. His live stream room was named "Old Wang's Kitchen Aroma," and his audience was stable at a single-digit number, mostly retired folks from downstairs, occasionally a child from the neighbor's house would sneak in and shout "Grandpa Wang, hello."
Tonight was no exception. Old Wang skillfully sliced potatoes while the oil sizzled in the pan. He habitually rambled to the camera, “Making some shredded potatoes with vinegar today, simple and delicious, suitable for all ages. Don't you agree? Hey, Old Li, why haven't you sent any comments today? Did you go downstairs to play cards again?”
"Old Wang, your hairstyle today, wow, it's trendy!" Little Zhang said, glancing at Old Wang's head while coding. Old Wang, in his early thirties and a programmer, had a freshly permed curly hairstyle, looking like a sheep that had been electrocuted.
"Yeah, just got it done." Old Wang touched his hair, his tone tinged with helplessness. "Company policy, perm your hair once a year, considered an 'annual benefit' for employees."
Li Ming wakes up at seven o'clock every morning, not by the alarm clock, but by the slogan "Good morning, strivers!" broadcasted punctually over the community loudspeaker. He lives in a place called "Dual-Track Community," where everything operates on two tracks.
For instance, there are two sets of garbage sorting systems in the community. One is for "strivers," and the other is for "pausers." The strivers' bins shimmer with golden light, while the pausers' bins are dull gray. Li Ming is a striver, and he feels proud of this, though he doesn't quite understand what he's striving for.
Old Wang felt like a charlatan for the first time, even though he was just a zookeeper.
He held a plastic bottle in his hand, filled with a stinky liquid that the zoo director euphemistically called "Tiger Essence," priced at fifty yuan a bottle. Old Wang was responsible for selling it, and his sales targets were even included in his performance evaluation.
Old Wang had worked at the "Bleaching" Center for twenty years. His job was monotonous and mechanical: to thoroughly bleach various items delivered daily through complex procedures. These items varied widely, from old clothes and old furniture to broken electronics and even some "domestic waste" of unknown origin.
The Bleaching Center was located on the edge of the city, surrounded by endless white factories. Everything here was white: the walls, the floors, the work clothes, even the air was filled with a faint smell of bleach. Old Wang wore a white uniform every day, numbly operating the machines, his world gradually turning into a monotonous white.