"By 5:00 PM today, the company will terminate 30% of its frontline workforce. Next Monday, the 'Unity' AI System will fully take over Core Workshops 3 and 5."
The cold, synthetic voice echoed through the PA system, crashing down upon the crowded assembly hall of over a thousand employees. Dead silence. A vacuum-like stillness, followed instantly by an explosive wave of panic, despair, and fury.
I stood at the very back of the crowd, making no sound, unmoved by the shoving masses. I do not need to eat. I do not need to sleep. I have lived in this world for countless eons. Yet, I could feel it—my immortal vessel was irreversibly aging. Because this world was losing its "Meaning" and heading toward absolute collapse.
To find the ultimate answer to existence, I, the Creator, personally initiated this infinite reincarnation reality show dubbed the 1001 Nights. I wiped the memories of the 16 greatest minds in human history and cast them into this brutal corporate survival game. Now, the game has begun.
On the podium stood a tall, lean man with eyes as sharp as blades. That was Nietzsche (ENTJ). In this lifetime, he was the Executive Vice President driving the AI reform—a ruthless, cold-blooded scalpel. "Crying is a privilege reserved for the weak," Nietzsche looked down coldly at the breaking employees, his voice piercing through the chaos. "The era is evolving. Machines are more precise, more efficient, and tireless. Being eliminated is not the company's fault; it's your own weakness. Evolution inevitably demands blood!"
"Bullshit!!" With a furious roar, a solid wood conference table in the front row was violently flipped over. A burly man with eyes burning with rage strode forward. That was Marx (ESFJ). In this life, he was the Union President and the absolute leader of the veteran workers. He pointed right at Nietzsche's nose, his voice booming like an enraged lion: "You're not embracing technology; you're cannibalizing people! Those veteran workers who bled for this company for twenty years—are they just lines of code you can delete at will? As long as I'm here, your AI won't take a single step into the workshops!"
The two men locked eyes, the atmosphere dropping to a freezing point. It felt as though physical bloodshed would erupt the very next second.
But in the shadows at the far edge of the podium sat an elegant man in a tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses. Machiavelli (INTJ). The General Manager of the company, and the ultimate mastermind behind this purge. He took a sip of his coffee, a barely noticeable glint of amusement flashing behind his lenses. He was smiling. Marx's fury and Nietzsche's arrogance were entirely within his calculations. As long as they fought, he could rightfully purge all dissidents and seize absolute control.
In another corner of the hall, Kant (ISTJ) held a thick volume of labor laws, frowning deeply and silently noting down every regulatory violation the company was committing. Meanwhile, Zhuangzi (INFP) leaned against the window, gazing at the gray sky outside, as if this life-and-death struggle of thousands was merely an illusory dream.
I watched them quietly. The souls of 16 philosophers, carrying their eternal obsessions, were preparing to tear each other apart for their own "Truth" in this petty corporate slaughterhouse.
And at the exact same moment, in a dimension absolutely imperceptible to them—
[The High-Dimensional Observation Hall · Global Live Channel]
This was a pure white palace suspended in the depths of the universe. A colossal holographic screen was broadcasting everything happening in the conference room in real-time. Inside the hall sat another group of "Spectators" personally selected by me.
[Emperor's Seat | Napoleon] (leaning back against his velvet chair, swirling a glass of red wine with a sneer): "Violence and elimination. That VP named Nietzsche has won my favor. Power never believes in tears; it only believes in efficiency. He is bound to win this battle."
[Science Seat | Albert Einstein] (taking a bite of an apple, pushing up his black-framed glasses): "I disagree. No matter how strong the AI's computing power is, it cannot calculate the variable of human nature. That man named Marx—if his anger reaches critical mass, the energy he unleashes will shatter the existing laws of social physics."
[Religion Seat | Buddha] (lowering his eyes, gently pressing his palms together): "Sadhu. All life is suffering. To fight for the right to survive over a machine and a paycheck is a delusion in itself. When will they ever see through it?"
[Science Seat | Isaac Newton] (slamming the table furiously, pointing at the corner of the screen): "See through my ass! Look at that guy named Machiavelli! He just sent an encrypted text under the table! That bastard is definitely pulling a dirty trick. What is he planning?!"
The pinnacle giants of all fields of humanity were frantically critiquing the 16 philosophers on screen, some even starting to place bets. Not a single one of them knew that the Supreme Director of this cosmic reality show was standing right in the eye of the storm.
I withdrew my gaze from the high-dimensional Observation Hall and refocused on the volatile conference room before me.
Machiavelli's conspiracy had already been set into motion. The conflict between Nietzsche and Marx was irreconcilable. Tonight, someone was destined to bleed for this AI storm.
I touched my empty pocket. I knew that when the first body fell, when the first obsession shattered, I would collect the first "Fragment of Meaning" of this lifetime. Bring it on, I whispered silently in my heart. Show me how you turn your absolute truths into a living hell.