At 2:17 in the morning, a message popped up on the phone screen. I was squatting on the side of the road taking the last bite of steamed buns.
"The system compulsorily dispatches the order: No. XN-0001. Please arrive at the pick-up point within five minutes. Refuse to deduct 10 years of life."
My mouth was stuffed with buns and I couldn't even curse. For three days, this damn system has been stuck in my brain like a dog-skin plaster. I place orders on time at midnight every day. If I don't take the order, my life will be deducted. If I take it, my life will be deducted.
I don't even know how much time I have left in my life.
The navigation on the phone automatically popped up, and the destination was the intersection three streets away. I threw away the bun wrapper, got on the folding electric bike, and turned the accelerator to the bottom.
The streets in the early morning were as empty as a cemetery, the streetlights made the shadows long, and the sound of wheels rolling over the asphalt road was particularly harsh. I ran through two red lights along the way and rushed to the location in four and a half minutes.
The intersection is deserted.
"Where are the people?" I looked around, "Sister System, please don't play tricks on me. I can't even afford the gas money for this trip."
The system's mechanical voice sounded in my head: "Who is your eldest sister? The target is right in front of you, please identify it carefully."
In front of you?
I squinted my eyes and saw that there was nothing under the streetlight. It wasn't until a gust of wind blew over and the fallen leaves on the ground were rolled up that I noticed something squatting in the middle of the road - a rickety figure, as small as a shadow.
That's an old lady.
She was squatting on the ground, wearing a white washed indigo shirt and a pair of black cloth shoes. His hair was gray, and he was holding a cloth bag tightly with both hands. He huddled up like a mushroom blown by the wind.
Why didn't I see her just now?
