The Grim Barbarity Of Optics And Designseveranc... ✦ Simple

Irving looked back at the marauders in the painting. He realized then that the glowing ID cards weren't just lights; they were the only things the workers could see. They weren't attacking out of hate. They were attacking because the "Optics" of the room had been designed so they couldn't see anything else. "Let's change the design," Irving whispered.

Irving walked the narrow corridors of Lumon, his fingers tracing the cold, eggshell-white walls. In his hand, he clutched a map—not a physical one, but a map of memories he wasn't supposed to have. As an "Innie," his world was only this: the green carpet, the humming servers, and the occasional, terrifying glance at the O&D department's "art."

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. The Grim Barbarity of Optics and DesignSeveranc...

Suddenly, the elevator hummed in the distance—the sound of an "Outie" leaving, a consciousness being switched like a light bulb.

"We are severed not just from our outside lives," Burt said, his voice barely audible over the HVAC system. "We are severed from the truth of what we do. They use these paintings to keep us from walking across the hall to say hello. Fear is the most efficient floor plan." Irving looked back at the marauders in the painting

This is a short story inspired by that chilling piece of art.

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." They were attacking because the "Optics" of the

Burt reached out, his hand hovering near Irving’s. For a moment, the barbarity of the office faded. There were no departments, no refinements, and no corporate legends—only two men, standing in a hallway, choosing to see each other despite the dark.