The Real and Meaningful Work
A satirical discovery about why humans don’t really need oxygen — and why hypocrisy might just be our next stage of evolution.
Do you know the best discovery of all time?
Animals? Universe? Gods? Nah.
It’s the fact that we humans don’t actually need oxygen to survive. We can live on what people call “harmful” — like smoke.
It’s such a gift that we don’t even have to care — or pretend to care — about planting trees for the holy god of purity, a.k.a. oxygen.
We don’t need to worry about climate change either. In fact, the more we pollute, the better it is for humanity.
Still don’t believe me? I didn’t either — until one day.
***
I was sitting in a café, sipping coffee peacefully, when a young couple entered. The guy was around nineteen — slim, red-haired, with a leather jacket draped over his arms. The girl had rings on her nose and lips, but not in her ears — a bold design choice. Together, they looked like the failed art project of a rebellious rainbow.
After a brief debate about where to sit, they chose the table right next to mine. Within minutes, they were exchanging cigarettes like Olympic relay batons, puffing smoke everywhere.
I objected.
They exhaled directly into my face.
I objected again, almost exhaling out my lungs, and pointed to the bright red NO SMOKING sign above them.
They chuckled, showed me their middle fingers, and continued smoking with the kind of passion most people reserve for wedding vows.
I shook my head so violently that some coffee dripped from my mouth. I wiped it off and did what any senseless citizen would do — I called the government authorities.
“Don’t you have any real, meaningful work to do?” said the clerk on the other end.
I was deeply offended. How the hell did they know the work we did at my software company wasn’t real or meaningful? Didn’t pretense count for anything these days?
***
I’d heard that phrase all my life.
“Find some real work,” my father had said when I graduated.
“Find some real work,” my mother had said when I told her my wife was pregnant.
“Find some real work,” my wife and my boss had said when I was busy on a fake project I invented to avoid real work.
So, I decided to finally do something real.
Now, let me make this clear — I’m not a smoker. My mother, a proud smoker herself, had warned me against it. I’d seen the consequences firsthand. My father was often breathless, sleepless, and tired. No, he wasn’t a smoker — that was just what happened when he didn’t listen to my mother.
So I followed her advice and never smoked.
Not even when my friends insisted.
Not even when my girlfriend said she’d only sleep with me if I smoked.
I didn’t.
I remained a non-smoker even after my child was born. (Yes, I resisted even my wife’s peer pressure.)
So you can imagine how much I hate smoking.
***
With the aim of doing something “real and meaningful,” I decided to take up a campaign against smoking.
But during my research, I discovered something profound — smoking might actually be the best thing humanity ever invented.
Look around next time you go out for a drink, a coffee, or even a walk. You’ll find people smoking everywhere — bus stops, gardens, offices, even during sex, I suppose.
I used to care about climate change, oxygen levels, and other pointless things like that. But then I realised — our politicians don’t!
They must know something we commoners don’t.
I used to blame the government for not doing enough to stop pollution. But now I see — they’re visionaries. Just like kings were once chosen by gods, today’s politicians are sent by divine appointment too. They’ve figured it out: the answer to climate change isn’t reducing pollution — it’s adapting to it.
That was my Eureka moment.
Now I understood why smoking isn’t banned, why pollution fines don’t increase, and why industries never stop belching smoke. They’re training us. Preparing humanity for the next evolutionary step — life without oxygen.
And when oxygen runs out, will we die?
Holy God… no.
Did tigers die when we humans stole their food? No. They ‘ bloody’ adapted. That’s why they kill us now — it’s not vengeance, it’s dinner.
So why should we be any different? Our bodies will adapt to the gases we call filthy — carbon monoxide, sulphur dioxide, whatever else sounds toxic in a school textbook.
Don’t know what those gases are? Just stand behind your vehicle for a minute. You’ll feel evolution happening.
Better yet, put your mouth near your car’s silencer — that’s where the future is coming from.
***
The Gen Z generation already understands this. That’s why they start smoking early — to prepare.
And we call them stupid? They’re the enlightened ones!
So, feeling inspired and oxygen-free, I began my mission to help humanity adapt. I launched an online campaign encouraging people to smoke. But a bunch of idiots called me a traitor.
They said cigarette companies must be paying me. Which is ridiculous — if it were an unethical cause, sure, I’d take the money. But for something this noble, I refused.
When the abuse didn’t stop, I realised the truth — these were opposition supporters. They wanted to take credit for increasing smoking when they came to power. Typical politics.
So, I wrote to the government asking for support.
They didn’t reply.
That’s when it hit me — this was top-secret work. If they supported me publicly, the plan would be exposed too soon.
So I doubled down.
I started a Twitter page called “Make Our Planet Gassy.”
I posted daily tips to increase smoking.
I urged cafés to become fully smoking-friendly.
I demanded that governments reintroduce “heritage vehicles” — the ones that smoke proudly.
I asked the U.S. to imprison Elon Musk before he takes humanity to breathable Mars.
And I proposed that schools add Smoking Studies as a compulsory subject — complete with theory and practicals.
My reels demonstrated how to inhale from car silencers and how clubs could replace fog machines with exhaust pipes. Predictably tasteful content.
But despite my genius, my page didn’t get many followers.
I couldn’t understand why.
***
Then one day, my friend said, “We don’t have to openly discuss such things.”
“You mean smoking isn’t important? You mean we don’t need to adapt?” I asked.
“I mean,” he shrugged, “ Smoke as much as you want — but when anyone asks, just say it’s bad.
“ You mean like racism or casteism. Openly criticize it but practise in secret?” I furrowed my brows.
He smiled and nodded.
That was it. Another Eureka moment! Even Archimedes had only one — and here I was with two!
Real and meaningful work, I realised, was about practising something secretly while publicly condemning it.
I thought of my smoker mother, who told everyone smoking was bad but puffed like an old truck. I thought of my neighbour who campaigned against domestic abuse while auditioning every night at home. I thought of governments that ban old vehicles and then quietly profit from their parts.
I finally understood.
So I opened my laptop and started a new campaign.
***
Months later, I went back to the same café.
The same young couple was there, puffing away proudly.
I sat beside them, smiling.
They exhaled right in my face.
I chuckled.
They exhaled again.
Before I could choke, I signalled — and four people appeared. They grabbed the couple, slapped them, and shoved them into a waiting school bus.
As the kids showed me their middle fingers through the window, I opened my laptop to check my latest page — the one born after my second Eureka moment.
It was called “Throw the Kids Out of School.”
It had gone viral — mostly because the kids loved it. They wanted to quit school and smoke for a living. Parents were furious. Schools wanted my head. The government wanted to save their power.
But the page simply mirrored the hypocrisy I’d learned: say one thing publicly, do another privately. Publicly I demanded kids be expelled; privately I helped them get readmitted.
How’s that for real and meaningful work? Putting kids exactly where they belong.
***
Official Notice: The Ministry of Common Sense confirms that no scientific proof exists suggesting humans can survive on exhaust fumes. This story is purely satirical. Oxygen is still recommended. Also, no smokers were harmed in the making of this story.
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