In the windowless labyrinth of Lumon Industries, where the sun is a myth and fluorescent lights hum like a low-grade migraine, there exists a painting titled . It depicts a scene of savage corporate warfare: the "Optics and Design" (O&D) department allegedly butchering the "Macrodata Refinement" (MDR) staff with the same precision they use to frame portraits of the company's founder, Kier Eagan.
Irving leaned in. The victims in the painting didn't look angry or even afraid. They looked confused, their eyes darting toward the exits as if they’d forgotten how to open a door. The Grim Barbarity of Optics and DesignSeveranc...
Irving jumped, turning to find a man from O&D—Burt—standing just out of the light. Burt didn't look like a marauder. He looked tired. In the windowless labyrinth of Lumon Industries, where
He stopped before the painting. The canvas was dark, its edges bleeding into the shadows of the hallway. It showed O&D workers, their faces obscured by the glare of glowing ID cards that looked like handheld miniature suns. They were tearing through MDR, not with swords, but with drafting compasses and T-squares. "It’s just a mediation," a voice whispered behind him. The victims in the painting didn't look angry or even afraid
"They tell us you butchered us," Irving said, gesturing to the carnage on the canvas. "And they tell you we butchered you ."
Burt stepped closer, the light finally catching the silver in his hair. "The grim barbarity isn't the killing, Irving. It's the design. Look at the eyes in the painting."
Suddenly, the elevator hummed in the distance—the sound of an "Outie" leaving, a consciousness being switched like a light bulb.