Zeng Lexing, a social security programmer, was writing a layoff script in the early hours of the morning when he entered his name with a swipe of his hand, and a lightning struck down - the person was gone, but the cat was.
Good news: not optimized. Bad news: Optimizing your own code is still running.
What's even more outrageous is that it comes with a vicious black cat roommate who uses her body to clock in at work every day and even thinks her workstation smells musty. "That's my anxiety! It's gray!" "What a coincidence, it's also on the top of your head."
The two were forced to start a body-changing play: she acted as a cat to catch bugs and got into the stray cat intelligence network; the black cat held meetings for her, making Party A doubt her life. The KPI has gone up, and even the erosion progress bar has also gone up - change it another 20 times, and they will completely merge into a new species that can both write code and catch cockroaches.
The most terrible thing is that the director always stuffs catnip into her cat, shouting "peace" while doing so. Zeng Lexing felt a chill on the back of his neck: Have I written this plot before? The kind of optimization department in 1998?
#Social animal literature #body swap #system backlash
A year later, the twin stars returned. Zeng Lexing licked his paw: "Do you still want to change it?"
Black Cat yawned: "Waiting for your invitation."
——When "optimization" becomes instinct, "not optimizing" is the most complete resistance.
