Episode 2: Smartphone Full of Zeros and the Crying Red Transit Card

Episode 2: A smartphone full of 0's and a red crying bus card The Yeonhui-dong three-way bus stop, where the autumn wind blew quite chillily, was crowded with minifigures rushing to work. Yellow center line tiles stretched straight across the dark gray road plate measuring 16 studs horizontally and 48 studs vertically, and the stop shelter was firmly assembled with red roof bricks and transparent acrylic pillars. On the stop sign, the route information '7738 green bus - Sinchon Station/City Hall direction' was printed in a font so elaborate that it required a magnifying glass to see.

Dozens of minifigures, including an office worker holding a briefcase, a college student carrying a backpack, and a housewife holding a shopping cart, were lined up in a row, staring at the roadway. Everyone had their own plastic smartphone tile in their hands, and the inside of the shelter was filled with the sound of plastic rubbing against the screen with one's thumb. Assistant Manager Han Do-yoon, who was standing at the back of the line, took out a 1x2 smartphone tile from his pocket. A glimmer of hope, just in case. Wouldn't a miracle sometimes happen where a diligent manager of the accounting team would come to work early in the morning on payday and press the salary transfer button before 8 o'clock?

Doyoon narrowed his black spotted eyes and refreshed the banking app. 'Loading... … Please wait a moment.'

The circular hourglass icon in the center of the screen spun three times, and then merciless numbers appeared on the screen. [Deposit/withdrawal account balance: KRW 14,280]

[Recent transaction history: Automatic transfer failed due to insufficient balance (Netflix 17,000 won)] “Ugh…….”

Doyoon touched his forehead and lowered his head. There was no such thing as a miracle. Brick Corporation's accounting team was a notorious department for always paying salaries at 11:00 a.m. on time, with a perfect standard of 0 second margin of error. A matrix of numbers '0' clearly printed on the screen. The account balance was laughing at Doyun's soul with its round mouth open, like numbers laughing at each other. The price of sacrificing your youth for 12 hours a day for the company for the past month is 14,280 won, which will disappear without a trace if you buy three packs of cigarettes and two cans of coffee.

The sadness welling up from deep in my heart weighed heavily on the plastic chest plate. The Yeonhui-dong three-way bus stop has been transformed into a sorting area for a huge human conveyor belt during rush hour. Behind the bus stop, red brick prefabricated houses from the 1980s and newly built one-room villas from the 2000s stood shoulder to shoulder, and the fragrant smell of Kimbab Heaven figures rolling sesame oil-covered kimbap tiles into silver aluminum foil bricks wafted from the first-floor shopping mall. The floor tiles of the bus stop were covered with countless black scratch marks from the irregularities of the soles of numerous minifigures.

Those marks were the tree rings of the city, engraved with the fatigue and tears of small-town citizens who went to the front lines every morning to survive. Every time the autumn wind blew, yellow 1x1 leaf tiles fell from the ginkgo tree bricks on the street trees and rolled on the wet asphalt. Doyoon put his hands in his coat pockets and swallowed a cold sigh that came out instead of his breath. Everyone was moving towards somewhere in a hurry, but no one knew whether their destination was true happiness or just a treadmill to pay off next month's credit card bill.

The commute to Lego City seen through a macro lens was the height of a surreal diorama. When the camera's aperture was widened to f/1.8, the background of the alleys of Yeonhui-dong stretching beyond Doyun's shoulder was softly blurred into a dreamy circular bokeh. On the surface of the road plate diagonally exposed to the morning sunlight, fine plastic shrinkage marks and tiny dust particles created during the mold injection process were shining golden. A microscopic world of 0.01 millimeter that cannot be discerned with the human eye. In it, the minifigures were bearing the weight of life most fiercely and faithfully within the given specifications and coordinates, without even dreaming that they were part of a huge plastic toy set.

When the green light of the traffic light brick turned on, hundreds of small plastic feet crossing the crosswalk echoed the road in a regular rhythm of 'crack, tap, crack.' It was small, but by no means insignificant, and it was the most honest pulse of life that moved a huge city. Doyoon sighed and took out a 2x3 leather wallet from his inner pocket. When I opened my wallet, a white Lego paper tile that had been folded in a crooked manner began to ‘slip’ out.

‘Chak, chak, chak, chak…’ … .'

The paper tiles, which had been folded like an accordion, unfolded endlessly, and eventually stretched out to the floor tiles, well over Doyun's height (4 studs in height, approximately 4 centimeters). It was a tearful record of his survival over the past month, a ‘credit card receipt.’ [10/02 Mapo Galbi Dinner Party 2nd (1/N) - KRW 48,000]

[10/07 Overtime taxi fare (Kakao Taxi) - 24,500 won]

[10/12 Convenience store cup ramen and hot six - 6,800 won]

[10/18 Buying junior Kim Ji-su coffee - 11,200 won]

[10/21 Pharmacy stomach medicine and patch - 15,000 won]

… … The words printed on the receipt were all traces of Doyun's bones being carved. Even after washing my eyes and looking for luxury, I couldn't find it. Caffeine to get through a tiring day, a share of the cost of a company dinner that I was forced to attend because my boss wanted it, and a late-night extra taxi fare to replace the last train that was cut off after working overtime. The main culprits that ate up his bank account were the costs of replacing consumables that he had to pay just to operate with parts in the name of an office worker. Doyun carefully folded the long receipt tile and crumpled it into his wallet. The shoulders of a young man in his 20s who went to work carrying a receipt that was heavier than his height in his arms were very hunched.

The endless receipt tiles that came out of his wallet were not just pieces of paper, but a brutal archaeological stratum testifying to Doyun's past 30 days. The top part of the receipt, the record from the 26th of last month, was 'Gangnam Station Izakaya - Assorted sashimi and sake 89,000 won.' The day after payday, the luxury of one night of luxury, which he had excitedly scratched as a reward for himself, was colorfully decorated at the beginning of the receipt. However, as the date progressed towards the middle of the month, payment items declined miserably.

'Hansot Lunchbox Chicken Mayo 4,500 Won', 'GS25 Hyeja Lunchbox 4,900 Won', and finally at the end of the month on the 22nd, 'CU Convenience Store White Milk 500ml 1,850 Won'. Abundance at the beginning of the month and extreme poverty at the end of the month. This manic-depressive trajectory of consumption, repeated every month, was like a rite of passage that all young minifigures living in a capitalist society had to go through. Doyoon refolded the curly receipt and took a bitter taste in his mouth. This absolute entropy law of the universe states that money is spent dozens of times faster than it is earned, and the time it stays in the bank account is only a moment.

In front of that law, the weak third-year assistant manager was always a loser. The blue credit card that was stuck in Doyoon's wallet was the first card he was issued three years ago when he was proudly accepted to Brick Corporation. His English name 'HAN DO YOON' embossed with a silver hologram sticker and gold foil. When he first held the card in his hand, Do-yoon's heart was filled with pride that he had finally been recognized as a full member of society.

'Now, I also give my parents monthly allowance and save up, so in 5 years, I will be able to buy a brick set for my own home.'

However, the green aspirations of youth were cruelly crushed in the face of soaring prices and steep interest rate hikes over a period of three years. The interest rate on deposit loans for one-room rentals rose vertically from 2% to 6%, and the price of one lunch exceeded 10,000 won. Salaries remained stagnant, but expenses increased through compound interest. In the end, the blue card was not a symbol of pride, but was degenerated into a cruel shackle of debt that barely survives today by prepaying for next month's future. 'Boouuuung—clunk!'

Around the corner of a three-way intersection in the distance, the neatly assembled blue and white LEGO City low-floor bus number 7738 slid into the stop with a loud air brake sound. The bus had a wide 6-stud body with transparent windows, but the inside of the bus was already crowded with minifigures of passengers who had boarded at the previous stop. 'Chi-ik—bang!'

When the front door opened, the minifigures that were in line rushed to the steps of the bus. “Please place your transportation card on the terminal.”

A mechanical female voice flowing from the terminal brick. Every time the passengers in front took turns placing their wallets, a cheerful sound rang out. 'Beep! It's a transfer.'

'Beep! thank you.'

'Beep! I'm a student.'

The green 1x1 transparent brick at the top of the terminal was blinking, smoothly allowing passengers to enter. Finally, Doyun's turn came. Without any hesitation, Doyoon tapped the corner of his wallet to the sensor tile in the center of the terminal. However, there is a refreshing 'beep!' that should come out of the terminal. There was no sound. Instead, a sharp, tearing, high-frequency mechanical sound that shook the entire station erupted.

'Beep beep beep—! Your balance is insufficient! Please try your card again!' At that moment, a red 1x1 translucent brick at the top of the terminal turned on a red warning light and began flashing loudly. It was not just a mechanical error. In the middle of Seoul, the capital of South Korea, it was a merciless death sentence siren that announced to the world the economic death of a young office worker. The interior of bus number 7738 was the height of claustrophobia created by standardized parts. Yellow handle ring bricks were hanging tightly from the ceiling, and the short minifigures were desperately holding on to the bag or chair back of the person in front of them, unable to reach the handle even when they lifted their tiptoes.

The seats were finished with 2x2 blue velvet tiles, but everyone sitting had their heads down, flipping through short-form videos on their smartphones or taking a nap with their eyes open. A lukewarm breeze mixed with the smell of mold and plastic fiber from last summer came out of the air conditioner vent. Every time the engine hummed, the plates on the bottom of the car vibrated slightly, causing the passengers' ankle joints to vibrate tiresomely. But even in that hellish space, the autumn morning sunlight shining outside the window was dazzlingly clear and transparent.

Every time golden sunlight passed over the faces of passengers shaking with their heads against the window, the expressionless plastic dolls would radiate a noble aura, like the characters in a living, breathing movie. During those five seconds when the red light was emitting loudly from the terminal, Do-yoon felt extreme fear, as if he had been stripped naked and thrown into the middle of Gwanghwamun Square. In a plastic society dominated by standards and order, entities that failed to pay the stipulated fee were likely to be stigmatized not as a simple mistake but as a 'defective part' that caused defects in the system.

The cold stares of the passengers around me were more than just irritation, it was a kind of disdain. 'I can't believe I'm stuck in line at this age because I don't have 1,400 won for bus fare.'

'How lazy and incompetent do you have to be to have your credit card delinquent on the morning of payday?'

The unspoken contempt that the passengers did not express out loud came through Doyun's plastic skull like telepathy. He felt as if his legs were sinking into the floor tiles. How shallow is human dignity. The fact that a person's personality and pride could easily be thrown into the trash can with just a 1,400 won electronic signal made the back of Doyun's neck as cold as ice. All the air at the stop and inside the bus froze in an instant. Dozens of passengers on their way to work who were standing behind Doyoon shot cold gazes at the back of his head. For office workers who miss every minute of their commute to work, passengers who hesitate in front of the terminal are like public enemies. ‘What is that person? 'You take the bus without checking your balance?'

'Ah, I'm so busy, why are you like that... … I'm going to miss the subway.'

A roaring sound hit Do-yoon’s ears like a hail of rain. The figure of a veteran bus driver with a tough look sitting in the driver's seat glared at Do-yoon through dark sunglasses and shot him a blunt look. “Customer! Can’t you see there’s a line of people behind you? If you don’t have any money, get off quickly or pay in cash!”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Wait a minute, it’s a postpaid transportation card, so why are you doing this….”

Doyoon’s face heated up from yellow to bright red like a ruby ​​brick. He was embarrassed and rubbed his wallet against the terminal three or four times in succession. ‘Beep beep! 'Your balance is insufficient!'

‘Beep beep! 'Your balance is insufficient!'

Without mercy, the terminal plunged the knife into Doyun's chest, killing him with confirmation. It turned out that the postpaid transportation card function was temporarily suspended as of 06:00 this morning due to late payment on the card last month. Doyoon desperately rummaged through his pockets. Suit pants pocket, jacket pocket, shirt pocket. But all that caught on my fingertips was a crumpled receipt and a lump of dust. There wasn't a single cash bill tile left in my wallet. The irritated sighs of the passengers behind him hit the back of Doyun's head like a huge tidal wave.

An intense sense of shame overtook him, making him want to hide himself by disassembling the plastic parts if there was even a mouse hole. The warmth of the 1,400 won that Jisoo handed over melted the ice of inferiority complex that had been piled up deep in Doyoon's heart. Chief Kim Ji-soo was the youngest member of Marketing Team 2, having joined last year through open recruitment, but she was a junior who played the role of mood maker in the department with her bright and energetic energy. Doyoon recalled the advice he gave Jisoo when he was a new recruit.

‘Jisoo, a company may seem like a cold machine, but the people who work within it must be warm. If you don't tighten each other's bolts and oil each other, the organization will eventually creak and stop.'

The grand words he had said came back to him like a boomerang through the small consideration of his junior this morning, extending a hand of salvation. Jisoo opened the lid of the tumbler, let in the scent of warm Earl Gray tea, and whispered softly to Doyoon. “Mr. Manager, did you know that Manager Park called an emergency meeting at 10 a.m. today? He’s been waiting for the 3rd quarter performance report, so we need to be mentally strong before we get paid today.”

“Ah… That’s right, the third quarter report.”

Doyoon felt dizzy and fiddled with the USB tile in his inner pocket. Behind the joy of payday, the boss's sharp sword was always lurking. It was then. A small, cute yellow hand stuck out from behind Doyun’s shoulder. In his hand was a shiny silver 1x1 circular tile. 'Click.'

When the hand touched the card to the terminal sensor over Doyun's shoulder, a cheerful sound rang out. 'Beep! There are two people.'

The red light on the terminal turned off, and a friendly green light came on brightly. “Driver, I will pay this person’s fare together. Please leave!”

A clear and clear voice. When Do-yoon looked back in surprise, there was a familiar face standing there, smiling brightly and with a dark brown ponytail. It was Chief Kim Ji-soo, a direct junior of Brick Corporation's Marketing Team 2. Jisoo was neatly dressed in a beige trench coat torso, holding a tumbler in one hand and looking up at Doyoon with playful eyes. “……Jisoo?”

Doyoon’s mouth dropped open. “Assistant Manager Han, what if you’ve been fighting with the bus terminal since the morning of payday? Get in quickly, people behind you will be late.”

Jisoo lightly pushed Doyun on the back and led him inside the bus. 'Chi-ik—bang!'

The front door of the bus closed, and the vehicle began to run on the road with a heavy engine sound. Do-yoon, holding on to the handle stud of the crowded bus, was unable to raise his head in shame. “Jisoo… thank you so much. When I get paid at 11 o’clock today, I will definitely buy you coffee and lunch.”

“Hey, assistant manager. What are you doing with 1,400 won? It’s the national rule that everyone starts with a bank account balance of 0 won on the morning of payday. I almost starved yesterday because I didn’t have money to buy triangle gimbap at the convenience store.”

That word that Jisoo said with a wink. The friendly solidarity of a colleague who did not ridicule others' misfortune but instead embraced him with a warm joke was breathing warmth into Doyun's frozen plastic heart. The bus was speeding toward the forest of downtown buildings, cutting through the red morning sunlight. Thousands of office worker minifigures were constantly rotating as if they were being sucked into the huge four-blade revolving door brick at the main entrance. Everyone had their chins pulled in at the same angle and their employee ID cards hung around their necks with the same expressionless face.

Doyoon stopped for a moment in front of the building, tilted his head and looked up at the distant top of the building. Another fierce battle awaited today in that huge fortress of concrete and plastic. “Let’s go, Mr. Jisoo. Let’s get through today’s meeting successfully and fire off the 11 o’clock congratulatory gun.”

“Yes, sir! Fighting!”

The two people stepped side by side, pushed against the glass wing of the revolving door, and confidently entered the building lobby. On the huge white marble tiles of the lobby floor, dozens of speed gates were passing office workers tagging their employee ID cards with a 'click, click' sound. The red floor indicator of the high-speed elevator went up and down continuously, transporting employees to the office on the 20th floor. Doyoon held his employee ID card to the gate sensor. 'Beep! Welcome, Assistant Manager Han Do-yoon.'

The green light on the terminal blinked. The real payday war was just beginning. Another great take to complete his own movie was quietly counting down inside the elevator of this huge building.