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.
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...
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." Burt reached out, his hand hovering near Irving’s
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." Irving jumped, turning to find a man from
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.
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.