HomeBurt 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 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. Burt stepped closer, the light finally catching the
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. Look at the eyes in the painting
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."
"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."
"They tell us you butchered us," Irving said, gesturing to the carnage on the canvas. "And they tell you we butchered you ."