空気が完全に汚染され、人々が企業から酸素ボンベを購入して生きる時代。呼吸はもはや生存の権利ではなく、課金制のサービスへと成り下がっていた。
低賃金で働く節約家の男、成瀬は、給料の半分以上が酸素代に消える生活に嫌気がさしていた。彼は生き延びるため、古今東西の座禅や武術を独学で研究し、二酸化炭素の排出量を極限まで抑える「究極の省エネ呼吸法」を編み出した。肺を最小限にしか動かさず、酸素の一粒までを効率よく細胞へ運ぶその技術により、彼の酸素購入量は従来の三分の一にまで激減した。
「これでようやく、人並みの貯金ができる」
成瀬は勝利を確信し、会社へ実績を報告した。しかし、人事部長は冷徹な目で彼を見下ろし、こう告げた。 「成瀬君、残念だが君の評価は最低ランクだ。酸素の消費量が少ないということは、脳や筋肉を十分に動かしていない、つまり活動意欲が著しく低い証拠だ。やる気不足による生産性の停滞として、今月から給料から『怠慢税』を差し引かせていただく」
成瀬は耳を疑った。節約の努力が「怠慢」として罰せられるというのか。不当な仕打ちに対する激しい怒りが込み上げ、静かだった彼の呼吸は一気に乱れた。心臓が早鐘を打ち、荒い息が漏れる。
その瞬間、ポケットのスマホが冷酷な電子音を鳴らした。
画面には、リアルタイムで更新された請求明細が表示されていた。
『警告：突発的な過呼吸を確認。緊急追加酸素プランが自動適用されました。決済金額：50,000円。毎度ありがとうございます』
成瀬は怒鳴ろうとしたが、吐き出す空気さえも借金になることに気づき、ただ口をパクパクと動かすことしかできなかった。
In an era where the air was entirely toxic, people survived by purchasing oxygen tanks from corporations. Breathing was no longer a right of existence; it had devolved into a pay-as-you-go service.
Naruse, a frugal man working for low wages, was fed up with a life where more than half his salary vanished into oxygen costs. To survive, he spent his nights studying Zen meditation and ancient martial arts, eventually mastering the “Ultimate Energy-Saving Breathing Method.” By minimizing his lung movement and delivering every single molecule of oxygen efficiently to his cells, he managed to slash his oxygen consumption to a third of the average.
”Finally, I can save some money like a normal person,” Naruse thought, certain of his victory.
He reported his achievement to the company, expecting praise. However, the HR Director looked down at him with cold, predatory eyes.
“Naruse-kun, I’m afraid your performance rating is at the bottom. Low oxygen consumption is proof that you aren’t utilizing your brain or muscles to their full capacity. In short, it shows a significant lack of motivation. Starting this month, we will deduct a ‘Laziness Tax’ from your salary for stagnant productivity.”
Naruse couldn’t believe his ears. His effort to save was being punished as “sloth.” A surge of intense rage boiled over at this injustice, and his once-calm breathing instantly broke. His heart hammered against his ribs, and his breath became ragged.
In that instant, the smartphone in his pocket let out a cold, electronic chime. The screen displayed a real-time billing update:
“Warning: Sudden hyperventilation detected. Emergency Supplementary Oxygen Plan automatically applied. Amount Charged: 50,000 yen. Thank you for your business.”
Naruse opened his mouth to scream, but realizing that even the air he exhaled would become a debt, he could only gasp silently like a fish out of water.
コメントを残す