Chapter 42: The Alienation

Chapter 42: The Alienation

Before work began that day, Director Sun called a morning meeting. He started by singling out and criticizing slackers like Xie Yunzhu from the previous day, then announced the Outstanding Employee.

"After repeated discussions and careful consideration by our leadership team," he declared, clearing his throat with exaggerated solemnity. He produced a bright red certificate and an envelope containing 100 credits, handing them to Zhang Baishan. "Number 2 was our top performer yesterday and has been named Employee of the Day. Let's have a round of applause!"

Zhang Baishan’s face flushed with excitement. He stepped forward, bowing and scraping as he accepted the envelope and certificate. If his wife hadn’t pinched him, he might have burst out laughing.

"Everyone should emulate Number 2’s diligent spirit and dedication to the factory," Director Sun said, patting Zhang Baishan’s shoulder. "Roll up your sleeves and work hard—the factory is where you can all achieve your potential!"

A scattered, lingering applause followed. Some people actually looked genuinely fired up, which Xie Yunzhu found quite peculiar.

Work assignments were randomly distributed that day. Xie Yunzhu was assigned to the first step of the process: stirring the grease flowing through the pipes. Working alongside him was Shi Yi, who looked as if she hadn’t fully woken up.

Stirring was a mind-numbingly tedious task. All he had to do was exert effort, like a blindfolded donkey, circling endlessly to mix the grease. It required no thought or imagination—just ceaseless, machine-like motion.

Within the first two hours of stirring, Xie Yunzhu’s muscles began to ache and throb. The greasy smell of the fat, mixed with industrial perfumes, rose from the large vat like steam in a sauna, enveloping him. His nearly empty stomach churned with nausea; he retched but couldn’t vomit anything up.

If his movements slowed even slightly, the Machine Supervisor would drift over like a ghost, issuing a verbal warning. Two verbal warnings would result in wage deductions, and there was no limit to how much could be deducted in a day—meaning that by the time their physical strength was exhausted, they might very well end up owing the factory more and more money while still working for it.

The moment the Machine Supervisor turned away, Xie Yunzhu would slack off again. He’d never heard of any slave working their way to freedom through hard labor. In an unfair system, the harder you worked, the more unfortunate you became.

Fortunately, Mi Yan could take shifts with him. The kid was as thin as a bean sprout and had to stand on a box to reach the vat, but he worked diligently, his hands flying like a hamster on a wheel.

This job wasn’t as dangerous as the previous day’s, so Xie Yunzhu let him handle it, sitting off to the side and continuing to observe his surroundings.

The others were visibly wearier than the day before; their stamina was depleting faster than expected. Across from him, Shi Yi, with her slender arms and legs, soon began shaking her head and sighing loudly in exhaustion after working for a while. Lian Pingliang, assigned to the cutting station that day, had already let out several stifled cries of pain—his hand had been cut by the blade more than once, and the entire production line was contaminated with his blood. The grease produced ended up a pale pink.

Some tasks were better than others, and today Lian Pingliang had drawn the short straw: "cutting."

Xie Yunzhu cast a pitying glance his way, doubting whether Lian Pingliang would last until the end of the day.

Then, his gaze drifted stealthily toward the door, studying the Robot Guards there and pondering the possibility of escape.

The more he observed, the more hopeless it seemed. Unlike humans, machines never tired or slacked off. They patrolled with mechanically precise steps, executing commands programmatically. If a rat ran across the ground or a bird flew overhead, they’d shoot without hesitation.

He had considered hiding in a transport truck to escape, though security there was just as strict. Each truck was guarded by two armed Robot Guards, and the vehicles were always packed with a fixed number of boxes, leaving no space for a stowaway.

However, the whole time he observed, Xie Yunzhu wondered: he had only seen trucks carrying grease away, but never any bringing raw materials into the factory.

The workshop was divided into their processing area and a raw materials area, separated by a wall. In the wall was a locked door, alongside a pipe that continuously supplied grease.

Based on the workshop’s overall size, the raw materials area couldn’t be large. Logically, after so much work and at least dozens of truckloads of grease being shipped out, the raw materials inventory should have been depleted by now.

Yet, he had never once seen a truck arrive to replenish the materials.

Could there be a hidden entrance to the raw materials area that he had missed? Was restocking done secretly there?

But why would transporting raw materials need to be so covert? There had to be something fishy going on.

"AHHHHHHH—!!!"

Suddenly, a piercing scream cut through his thoughts. A strong smell of blood filled the air. Everyone looked up, their eyes turning wide with terror, staring in one direction.

"My hand! Gah... my hand, ahhh!" Lian Pingliang clutched his bloody, mangled hand, letting out a horrifying scream. The other half of his hand had been severed by the blade and fallen onto the rapidly moving conveyor belt.

Three fingers twitched grotesquely, still connected by broken bone and tendons, dripping with blood as they mixed with the grease blocks, passing by each worker downstream.

It was Lin Zhenyue who acted quickly, scooping up the severed hand and shouting, "There’s still hope! The cut is clean—it can be sewn back on!"

But by then, Lian Pingliang was writhing and convulsing on the ground, screaming incessantly from the pain.

The Machine Supervisor approached him. "Number 3 violated regulations by speaking without permission. A fine of 100 credits."

"Ahhhh it hurts! It hurts—!!"

"Number 3 slacking off. First warning."

"Save... save me..." Lian Pingliang grabbed the supervisor’s pant leg.

"Second warning. Fine: 100 credits."

The earlier accident hadn’t shaken Xie Yunzhu, but these cold, mechanical voices sent a chill down his spine.

"Enough, it’s not that big a deal. Send Number 3 to the infirmary," Director Sun waved a hand dismissively. "He’s a clumsy fool, who knows if he’s even useful. Why is everyone crowding around? Get back to work!"

Losing a hand here meant Lian Pingliang was effectively eliminated. Xie Yunzhu recalled the self-introductions at the start of the game, when this humble office worker had spoken hopefully about promotions, raises, and "shaking up the workplace."

In the end, he was the first to be "shaken up."

Fortunately, there were only half an hour left until the lunch break. The others divided up Lian Pingliang’s tasks among themselves. The smell of blood permeated every corner of the production line, and everyone’s breathing was oppressively stifled.

The moment the lunch bell rang, everyone stopped working simultaneously, erupting into uncontrollable shouts and screams as if venting all their fear, anger, and repression. Some banged their heads against the wall, others threw things, some cried—but without a doubt, this was the moment they seemed most human all day.

From other workshops, and from farther outside the factory, howls and screams echoed endlessly.

But the lunch break was only thirty minutes. While venting, they also had to shove food into their mouths to fill their empty stomachs. The fatty pork boxed lunches had become delicacies.

Just as Xie Yunzhu was about to eat, he caught the stench of urine. He looked up, startled, and saw Zhang Baishan squatting nearby eating his lunch—the pungent smell was coming from him.

After a moment’s thought, Xie Yunzhu understood: while working earlier, to avoid a pay deduction, Zhang Baishan had chosen to pee himself.

Xie Yunzhu lost his appetite. Silently, he gently pulled Mi Yan farther away, resting his head on the boy’s shoulder and burying his nose in his hair. For some reason, despite all they’d been through, the kid always smelled softly sweet and soft. Even after working hard, he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

"Eat something," Mi Yan offered him a nutrition drink and biscuits, saying sadly, "It doesn’t taste good, but you still need to eat."

"Mm." Xie Yunzhu took a bite of the biscuit Mi Yan handed him, chewing with his eyes closed. He had to seize every moment to rest.

Near the end of the break, Director Sun returned from the infirmary—but Lian Pingliang wasn’t with him. Instead, a disheveled stranger stood by Director Sun’s side.

"Where’s Lian Pingliang?" Lin Zhenyue asked. "At my old factory, people who got their hands cut off could usually have them reattached if the cut was clean and they got treated quickly. How is he?"

"Don’t worry about our doctor’s skills—she’s an expert at this. Not just hands, she can reattach arms too," Director Sun said smugly. "Of course, treatment isn’t free. Reattaching a hand costs 10,000 credits."

"Ten thousand?" Everyone’s hearts sank—the medical fees were exorbitant. They had to avoid getting sick at all costs during these months of intense labor, or their wages wouldn’t even cover treatment.

"This is a work-related injury!" Lin Zhenyue struggled to contain her anger. "According to labor laws, shouldn’t the factory cover it?"

"Labor laws? What are those?" Director Sun lazily picked his ear. "Talking about laws with me is just laughable."

This was a Dungeon where rules were twisted; clearly, laws had been warped into nonexistence. The factory’s rules were everything, and they had no choice but to endure.

Amid the silent, suppressed fury, Xie Yunzhu suddenly asked, "After he’s healed, can Lian Pingliang come back?"

"Of course not," Director Sun said. "He owes the factory so much money, I’ve already sent him to Zone 5."

Hearing "Zone 5," everyone recalled the dormitory that often wafted with a foul stench and the nightly, pig-like screams. Xie Yunzhu frowned too, remembering what Mi Yan had told him: in the Nine Phases painting, those corpses would rather die than go to the other zones.

What kind of hell was it there, exactly?

Everyone wanted to ask more questions about Zone 5, but the lunch break was almost over. Director Sun stepped aside and pushed the man behind him forward: "Starting today, he will take over Lian Pingliang's work."

The man reeked of a powerful stench. As soon as he approached, everyone couldn’t help but cover their noses. Taking a closer look at his face, it was so dirty it was impossible to tell his age—it seemed like it hadn’t been washed in ages. His hair was greasy and matted in clumps, like an oil-soaked mop.

The first thing Xie Yunzhu noticed, however, was the number on his navy-blue work uniform: Zone 6, No. 3.

That morning, this had still been Lian Pingliang’s number.

"This is No. 3. He’s from Zone 5 and has been exceptionally promoted to our area due to outstanding performance," Director Sun introduced. "From now on, he’ll be your colleague."

Everyone gave a scattered, half-hearted round of applause, but No. 3 showed no reaction at all. His glazed, wooden eyes didn’t even shift. If not for the occasional nose-picking or scratching at the lice in his hair, he would have looked like a robot that hadn’t been powered on.

"Rumble—" Just then, Sister Kong arrived pushing a cart full of drinks, calling out from afar: "Drinks for sale! Coffee, 10 yuan a can—one sip and you’ll be wide awake!"

Outside, many would consider 10-yuan coffee low-grade, but here it was different. Their hourly wage for risking their lives was only 15 yuan, so hearing the price made them wince. Who would be foolish enough to buy it?

Unexpectedly, No. 3 suddenly moved, rushing over to buy ten cans of coffee in one go.

"This young man has good taste! This coffee is especially energizing. Whether you’re dead tired or can’t work anymore, one sip will keep you alert for two hours, and you won’t even feel exhausted afterward!" Sister Kong boasted. "Think about it—selling it to you for 10 yuan is basically a steal!"

Everyone was tempted. After all, they had only stopped working overtime the previous night because they were utterly exhausted. If this coffee could help, spending 10 yuan to earn 60 yuan in overtime pay seemed like an incredibly good deal.

"Wait a second," Xie Yunzhu frowned. "What’s the catch?"

"You just love interrupting—I was about to say!" Sister Kong glared at him. "Actually, this coffee does have one little side effect, but don’t worry, it won’t affect your work at all. The side effect is this: for every two hours of energy you get, your lifespan will be shortened by two hours. Even if you drink twelve cans in one go, you’ll only lose a day…"

"Shit—" Before she could finish, Lin Zhenyue cursed under her breath. She had joined this game precisely to pursue immortality, and now she was supposed to spend her lifespan just to work overtime?!

Sister Kong’s face instantly turned stern. "Don’t complain—let me do the math for you, and you’ll understand! Those two extra hours you gain now are two hours of vitality and productivity, greatly contributing to the factory and society. When you’re old, lying in bed unable to eat or enjoy life, what does losing an hour or two even matter?"

"Exactly, as the old saying goes: to grow old and not die is to become a thief!" Director Sun chimed in. "Once you’re 60 and can’t work anymore, it’s about time to die. Every extra day you live is a waste of society’s resources."

Their radical statements undoubtedly left everyone psychologically shaken. While distortions were common in these instances, most were related to ghosts or monsters. This kind of inhuman capitalist logic was something they were encountering for the first time.

Yet, most of them still bought a few cans of coffee as backup. For one, after yesterday’s overtime, even the veteran players, with their enhanced stamina, were feeling the strain. Secondly, without coffee, they stood no chance of keeping up with those who had it.

Xie Yunzhu watched coldly from the sidelines, showing no interest in buying coffee. The only one who shared his indifference was the long-haired girl Shi Yi, who wasn’t even paying attention—she sat there in a daze.

The afternoon work began. When Xie Yunzhu noticed the Machine Supervisor moving away, he whispered under his breath to Mi Yan to discuss their plans.

Suddenly, he felt an icy-cold gaze and immediately turned to look. He saw No. 3 quickly avert his eyes and lower his head, as if he hadn’t just been staring with a snake-like gaze.

No. 3 had taken over Lian Pingliang’s cutting work, performing it with machine-like speed, efficiency, and precision. Aside from the stench of someone who hadn’t bathed in centuries, he exuded an unsettling aura.

What happened next confirmed Xie Yunzhu’s suspicions. When he tried to whisper to Mi Yan again, that snake-like gaze returned. Then, No. 3 suddenly took out a small device, like a remote, from his pocket and pressed a red button.

A piercing mechanical voice abruptly echoed through the quiet workshop:

"Report—!"

All the Machine Supervisors turned their heads at once, converging on them and surrounding them.

No. 3 hid behind the Machine Supervisors, this time looking over openly at Xie Yunzhu. He pointed at Xie Yunzhu’s mouth and pressed the red button again: "Report."

The Machine Supervisor checked the surveillance footage and announced decisively: "No. 6 violated regulations by speaking without permission. Fine: 100 yuan."

Xie Yunzhu: "…"

Mi Yan: "!!!" Furious but unable to speak!

For the first time, a hint of something resembling "triumph" flickered in No. 3’s numb, hollow eyes. Seeing Xie Yunzhu fined 100 yuan seemed to bring him more joy than earning 1000 yuan himself. After the report, he lowered his head contentedly and returned to work.

More than anger or injustice, what Xie Yunzhu felt was a deep sense of dread. He thought to himself, the factory must have stripped No. 3 of much more than just his ability to smile.