The Grim Barbarity Of Optics And Designseveranc... May 2026

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.

"They tell us you butchered us," Irving said, gesturing to the carnage on the canvas. "And they tell you we butchered you ." 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. He stopped before the painting

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. They were tearing through MDR, not with swords,

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