Memory Deprived

by FreckledFanficFreak

Summary:

Chime…

Welcome to the Severed Floor of Lumon Industries. It isn’t every day that this place gets a new hire, seeing as to how it operates. Today, however, marks the very first day of work for brand-new employee Jay Sch—apologies, Jay S.—who is as frustrated as he is confused by the situation he finds himself in.

He doesn’t want to work here. He wasn’t even planning on it—in fact, he hadn’t been planning on anything, since he didn’t exactly exist prior to this morning.

But as much as he might try to resist, there isn’t any other option for him. His whole existence is linked to the office—literally. His consciousness is trapped here, with only his physical presence and a person he can’t help but hold a grudge against being granted the ability to leave.

The best he can do is try to figure out what makes this company tick. What's really going on here? Why would anyone willingly choose to Sever themself? And… is there really no alternative for him and his colleagues?

Chapter 1: Your Hell Is All That's Real

“Umm… hi, there, you on the table…”

…

…

…What?

“H-hi! There! You, on the table!” Is repeated once more by the disembodied voice, quickly followed by a hushed mumble. “How do they expect me to say this? What tone should I use?”

“It doesn’t matter, just follow the script.” A second voice responds in an equally hushed whisper.

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hi there, you on the table! I wonder if you’d mind taking a brief survey?” A slight pause, then presumably addressing the second voice; “Nailed it.”

“You should probably turn the mic off if you’re gonna include off-script commentary.”

A moment of silence passes, then a click can be heard from… somewhere.

“Who’s there? Hello?” The person on the table calls out once again, attempting to sit up. The simple movement causes a splitting headache to erupt in his skull. Crumpling over, he grabs his head instinctively. Where is he? What’s going on? What could possibly be causing his brain to feel like it's about to burst? Only one thing is clear—this can’t be normal.

He collapses off the lengthy table and onto the floor. This proved to be rather difficult as it was surrounded by chairs, forming a unique kind of obstacle—is this supposed to be some sort of… conference room? Who cares, there’s only one possible escape, and that’s the lone door at the other end of the room.

Standing is a struggle, but eventually he manages to hold himself upright. The voices remain mysteriously silent as he makes his way across the room, supporting his exhausted stature with the table. A wince, followed by the painful, spontaneous movement of flinging himself against the door. It does not budge. He grabs the doorknob, firmly attempting to turn it.

It’s locked.

The panic he’s managed to keep in check thus far leaks throughout his mind as he aggressively rattles the doorknob with both hands. It won’t open, why won’t it open—shit, is he really trapped here? No, no it’s… it’s probably just stuck, he just has to keep jostling it, and then—

“Oh, wait! Wait!”

“Who are you? What the fuck do you want?”

“I… I was wondering if you’d mind taking a brief survey? Five questions!”

“Like hell I’ll take your survey.” He’s beginning to feel some strength return, enough to stay up without support. He jostles the doorknob some more, going so far as to kick the door to add an extra ‘oomph’ to his struggle.

“Open the door! Let me out of here!”

“Five questions… I know you’re sleepy, but I just bet it’ll help you feel… right as rain. Shall we begin with question one?”

“No, fuck off! Let me go !” He plans on wrestling the door until breaking through, but an encore of nausea swells up, forcing him to stumble back into a seat. He presses his fingers firmly against his temple. How could he possibly have gotten himself caught in this mess? If he were to play along, would they let him go? Just one survey, after all… one short, five-question survey…

“…Shall we begin with question one?”

“Fine. Fine . Whatever.”

“Alright!” There’s a distant sound of humming, tongue clicking, and pages flipping. “Question one… who are you?”

What kind of bullshit is this? He sifts through his memories to locate the answer to such a simple question. But as he begins to search for what should’ve been an easy inquiry, he realizes that he can’t remember. In fact… nothing comes to mind at all. It’s not just his name,either—he has no memory beyond this moment, in this very room. What’s going on here?

“Umm, I… I dunno…”

“You can respond ‘unknown’ to any question you don’t know the answer to.”

Fuck. “U-unknown?”

“Okay then, ‘unknown’. Question two; in which U.S. state or territory were you born?”

Oh, fuck. “Unknown…”

“Hmm. ‘Unknown’. Question three; please name any U.S. state or territory.”

“…New York? Is that one of them?”

“‘New York’. Question four; what is Mr. Eagan’s favorite breakfast?”

“What does that even mean? ”

“Please answer the question for me.”

“Unknown?!” He shrugs.

“‘Unknown’. Alright, question five—and remember, this is the final question—to the best of your memory, what is or was the color of your mother’s eyes?”

“Unknown…”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck. What’s going on? What’s happening to him? Why are so many of his memories… missing?

“…What did you do to me?”

The door opens, and he spins around in his chair. The voice that had been speaking belongs to a man with an overly-cheery attitude and enthusiastic tone, neither of which matches the weight of the current situation.

“Congratulations, that was perfect!”

“What?”

“You answered every question perfectly!” The man smiles. “You’ll fit in well here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Who are you and what are you gonna do to me?”

The mysterious figure takes a seat next to him, opening up a binder containing countless crisp pages. He briefly leafs through it before settling on one.

“Well, my name is Mika. Mika S. And you—yes, you—have just been given the opportunity of a lifetime!”

He scoffs. “Opportunity? This? Really?”

“Well…” Mika scans the page in front of him. “Hold on, I just need to… aha!” He clears his throat. “‘Thank you for taking the welcome survey… I can sense the questions made you feel afraid or disoriented. Well, good news is, you’re at an… orientation! ’”

His pacing is off—as Mika stumbles through words, emphasizing at weird points, hesitating as he reads off what is obviously a script… he can’t help but wonder…

“Hey!” He snaps his fingers, gaining the other man’s attention. “Do you even know what the hell is going on here?”

Mika glances up in surprise. “Well… yes?”

“Then… then who am I?”

“I…”

“So? Tell me. Now. ”

“You… you’re…” he flips to the front of the folder, an odd expression flooding his face as he takes out a file within the cover’s pocket. He takes a quick peek at it—“Jay S.”

“Jay S… that’s my name—Jay?”

Mika shrugs, then continues with the script. “‘You see…’”

Jay grabs the binder from him, flipping it around to read its contents himself.

“Hey, what are you—you can’t do that!”

“Shut up. Just let me read the damn thing myself.”

“I really don’t think you’re allowed to—”

A single violent glare from Jay is enough to shut him up.

He scans through the pages… “Lumon”? “Severance procedure”? “seesaw”? Just what is any of this supposed to mean? Thankfully, the binder contains directories to all sorts of pages containing answers to these questions, and to all other questions the sick person who wrote this might imagine their captive to ask. He reads through each page as Mika nervously watches on between glances around the room. After a few minutes, his eyes catch on something particularly intriguing.

“Hey. You.”

“Y-yes?”

“It says here that if I demand to leave three times, you’ll let me go.”

“Does it…? I must’ve missed that part…”

Jay thinks for a minute, trying to recount how many times he’s asked to be let go. Two, right? Must’ve been two… “So… let me go. That makes for a third, hmm?”

“Maybe, but, well…” he points at the binder, implying that he needs to refer to whatever is in its twisted pages. Jay reluctantly returns it. “Mmm… oh, here it is! Ahem; ‘I understand you don’t feel it’s working out for you here at Lumon… while disappointed, I’d hate to keep you somewhere you’re not happy.’” Mika stands up, motioning for Jay to follow him.

They pass through the small room just past the door where a second individual—probably that second voice Jay had heard earlier—sits in front of a monitor displaying live video feed from the previous room. Despite this guy’s casual business wear, he has a generally disheveled appearance, which takes away from the intended guise of professionalism. Between all that junk in the script, both Mika’s and this other man’s attire, and the building around them, it seems that this is some sort of… office?

The hallways are long, blank, and way too bright. Jay is so glad to finally be getting out of here. He surely won’t miss this place, even though he’s only been there for… actually, he doesn’t even know. Hours? Minutes? Depends on how long he was knocked out for.

As they make their way through the twisting halls, Mika rambles on about “Lumon values this” and “Kier Eagan that”. Jay’s tuning out most of it, only really able to pay attention when he’s addressed directly. There’s far too much to be worried about at this moment than whatever that guy’s spewing out.

…These halls really are long, aren’t they? The walking, the talking, the turning corners… It has been going on for what feels like forever. At least, for Jay. It’s a boring hallway. It seems endless, why would anyone build something like…

“And, we’re here!” Mika chimes. “At the end of this hallway there is a door that leads to a stairwell. You’ll just take this turn and then… you’re home free. Oh, uhh… I don’t think I’m allowed to watch you leave. Just… company policy. You know how it is.”

“Thank… you…?”

Mika gives him a nervous wave goodbye, which Jay does not return. He turns the final corner, and sure enough, there’s a door at the end of the hall. An ascending staircase is visible through its thin glass window. Fucking finally . His pace picks up as he gets closer to his goal, that beautiful, beautiful exit. The click of the door opening is music to his ears. And then…!

…

He’s… back? In that hallway? What the fuck?  

Oh well, it’s probably just… he got turned around. It’s all right, just turn back around, head back through the door, and…

…He’s back in the same damn hallway.

What is this? Just what is this bullshit? Why can’t he leave?

Just… one more time, okay? Go through the door one more… two more… as many more times as it takes to get out of here. To escape .

Jay went back and forth through the door several times. Counting no longer mattered at some point. No matter how many times he went through that door, through that supposed exit, he found himself right back in that same damned hallway.

Beyond mad, he charges back around the corner, where Mika is still standing.

“Oh, you’ve given up? Took you long enough.”

This bastard . “What the fuck is going on? Why can’t I leave?!”

“You did. Many times. About… thirteen, I think? More than I did when I first got here. By, like, a lot . You just… kept coming back. Turned around and came right back through that same door.”

“No, I didn’t . I kept—I kept walking through, I know I did…”

“I’m not saying you didn’t. You definitely did. You just kept coming back.”

“But… why? Why the hell would I ever come back to this place?”

“Because you want to be here, Jay. You want to work here, at Lumon. You won’t let yourself leave.”

----------------------------------

Mika drags a pissed-off Jay back through the endless halls, right to their department’s main office. It’s a pathetic looking place, really—the room is far too big to be hosting only one set of partially-open cubicles. It sits right in the center of the room, too, further highlighting the solitary island of desks in the vast empty ocean of free floor space. The man he noticed earlier sits at one of the desks, just diagonal of someone else he has yet to meet. Standing over the desks is another individual, who perks up and rushes over to the doorway upon hearing the approaching footsteps.

“Ah, Jay! I see you’ve completed the first part of your orientation. I’m Moist, and I’m your Supervisor here on the Severed Floor of Lumon Industries.” He extends out his hand, which Jay shakes warily. “Now, there’s just one final part of your orientation. If you could wait over there for a moment, please. Oh, and Mika—Ms. Skeen would like to see you in her office.”

Mika responds with a slow, singular nod before silently returning to the hallway. Moist motions for Jay to take a seat in the corner of the room—he does. He then disappears behind a door, from which he retrieves a cart hosting a boxy TV. The Supervisor brandishes a CD from his pocket and inserts it, starting the video.

Jay was expecting the video to show happy employees calmly, joyfully explaining the day-to-day rundown of the office. This was very much not the case.

Instead, he was taken aback when the screen displayed himself, smiling back at him.

“Okay, you may now start.” A voice chimes from off-screen—it sounds like Moist.

The man in the video clears his throat.

“My name is Jay S. I am making this video only a few hours before it will be shown… to myself.”

He takes a breath, then referencing the cards in his hand; “‘I have, of my own free accord, elected to undergo the procedure colloquially known as ‘Severance’… I give consent for my perceptual chronologies to be surgically split, separating my memories between my work life and my personal life.”

He flips to the next card.

“I acknowledge that, henceforth, my access to my memories will be spatially dictated. I will be unable to access outside recollections whilst on Lumon’s Severed basement floor, nor retain work memories upon my ascent.”

One final flip—one final card.

“I am aware that this alteration is comprehensive and irreversible. I make these statements freely.”

Just like that, the video cuts off, leaving Jay with more questions than answers. Yet, he doesn’t have a chance to ask any of them before Moist energetically interjects.

“Well, that’s all for your orientation! The rest of your first day will consist of your training. Since Mika is… busy, at the moment, I think I’ll ask Astrid to cover for him.”

He calls out to the coworker Jay has yet to meet. She appears slightly bothered by the distraction, but makes her way over regardless, exchanging glances between Jay and Moist before the latter clears his throat.

“Now, I know you’re busy with the Ridgewood File, but you’ve been making excellent progress on it, and I could really use a quick favor. Your new colleague here—Jay S.—needs to be shown the ropes, and your Department Chief is a little tied up at the moment. Seeing as you have the most experience, mind filling in for him?”

Astrid looks back at Jay, and shrugs. “Sure, I don’t see why not. Follow me, newbie.”

----------------------------------

“So, what you’re gonna want to do is scroll through the grid for numbers.” Astrid points at the sphere attached to the keyboard. “You might need to look for a while, but basically you wanna keep an eye out for anything that triggers an emotion…”

The scroller is located to the right of the keyboard. As Jay scrolls through the endless grid of numbers, he finds it to feel oddly… unnatural? Like he shouldn’t be using his right hand for this. It’s just uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the scroller is quite literally a part of the keyboard itself. Maybe he could check if there’s any spares? He feels that it would be better if the scroller was to his left instead. And with his left hand left with nothing to do, it grows antsy and impatient, fingers tapping the desk in their search for activity.

Jay scrolls through the numbers for a couple minutes in complete silence. He had been hoping for a little more guidance from Astrid—what the company was about, or even what the point of all this was. Why Sever oneself? Why is their only task to look for ‘emotional’ numbers? The guidebook he was provided with hadn’t given him as much information as he was hoping for, either. He finds himself giving up, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.

“This is dumb and makes no sense. I don’t want to do this.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda how it is at first. You’ll get used to it soon. It becomes almost automatic at some point.”

“No, I mean I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to work here… I quit.”

“Oh.” The corner of her mouth lifts into a slight smile, as if what he just said was funny. “Good luck with that.”

“What does that mean?”

“You can submit a resignation, but they never get accepted. I submitted a shit ton of them when I started out but they just kept getting denied. So sure, you can try… but I can’t guarantee you’ll actually succeed. Actually, I can pretty much guarantee that you won’t succeed.”

“Dammit, really? So there’s just no way out of this?”

“Nope!”

“Fuck…” Jay leans over his desk, head in his hands. Finally, with a huff, he sits back up and glances at Astrid. “Who’s even behind all this, anyways? Like, there’s got to be someone responsible for this bullshit.”

In all honesty, he just can’t bring himself to believe that he’s the one keeping himself here. If he knows himself, like, at all, no way in hell would he want to be stuck in a place like this. Or was that man in the video someone else entirely? Technically, they’re the same person, but… yes, it is very possible—likely, even—that the man out there is different from him in every aspect. Different enough to willingly trap another person, himself , in an inescapable situation with no alternatives.

“Lumon, I guess. Or its management. If you’re looking for something more specific, then…”

“What if there’s someone who’s a bit closer? In the department, maybe? I mean, I feel like whatever asshole planned all this would be fucked up enough to want to observe their… master work, or something.”

“Come on, dude. You know that sounds ridiculous.”

“Well, like, what about the obnoxious bastard that had me take that survey?”

“Who? Mika?” Astrid asks, to which Jay hurriedly nods his head. “Ha! Nah, Mika’s harmless. Here, watch this—HEY MIKA!”

“Yeah?” Mika pokes his head from behind the doorway of the employee lounge. He had returned not too long ago, with a nervous yet relieved look on his face. Almost immediately upon arriving, he darted towards the lounge, and has been tidying it up since.

“SUCK MY DICK!”

Mika blinks a couple of times, before sighing with such heavy disappointment and disappearing back into the lounge to finish his work.

“See? See what I mean? So yeah, you don’t need to worry about him. He’s just not used to being the Department Chief. The last guy dipped so he kinda had to take on the responsibility unexpectedly.”

“…I see.”

“Besides, if there is a mole, it could just as easily be you or me. So why did you only mention Mika?”

“Well, uhh… dunno. Gave me strange vibes, I guess.”

“You’re just pissed off ‘cause of the whole thing with the survey, aren’t you?”

“…Maybe. Just a little bit.” He thinks for another minute. “What about the guy who was doing the orientation with him? Or that ‘Moist’ guy? There’s something off about them, too…”

“Pandah is… just Pandah, really. I dunno where he went. Could’ve sworn he was here a moment ago… eh, he’s probably just slacking off somewhere. And Moist isn’t part of our department. He’s a sort of Supervisor for… the entire severed floor, I think?”

“Wouldn’t that make him the most likely candidate?”

She bites her lip, deep in contemplation, then sighs. “Listen, do you really wanna know?”

“Well, duh .” Jay snarks, finally relieved to be getting some answers. Astrid leans close to his ear and lowers her voice to a hushed whisper.

“ Eagan, it’s Eagan. ”

“…Who?”

“ Shhh !” She stands back up, glancing around. “You’ll see. I dunno when, but… you’ll see.”

“But who’s—”

“ Anyways , we’re getting off track—where were we? Numbers, right?”

“Uhh… right, right, the numbers—something about them triggering emotions…?” Jay, despite being slightly agitated at his questioning being cut short, figures that there was a good reason for the secrecy and that it would be best to explore that further later.

“Oh yeah! Okay, so basically, you keep looking for numbers until you find a set that jumps out to you. They’ll make you feel something—scared, happy, angry, sad, whatever—point is, you have to find them and sort them.”

“Sure, fine. That totally makes logical sense and does not at all sound stupid.”

“Nah don’t worry you’re not the only one who thought it was stupid.”

“What’s even the point of… all this?” Jay motions at the screen, to which Astrid shrugs in response.

“Dunno. They never told us.”

“Okay, that—that right there? That’s suspicious as fuck. Why won’t they let us know what we’re doing?”

“It’s confidential.”

“And who would we even tell? Each other?”

Astrid rubs the back of her neck and tilts her head. “Maybe the other departments? They keep us pretty isolated down here.”

“It’s just… it’s weird. This whole thing is weird.”

“Understatement of the century.” She’s starting to seem agitated. Maybe if Jay pushed her just a little bit…

“I mean, we’re not given a single clue about who we actually are or what it is we’re here for. No… nothing.”

“It’s the same for all of us. Just. In case you didn’t know.”

He ignores her. “We’re forced into a role, no choice to opt-out because we aren’t even people , just fractions of one. The only reason we exist is for a singular purpose. And only because somebody else made this choice for us. Somebody who doesn’t give a shit ‘cause they’re not the one who has to deal with it—it’s just—does nobody see how utterly messed up this is?!”

“Oh, trust me, I am very aware of that.” Astrid snaps. “You think I didn’t freak the fuck out when I first got here? They…”

She pauses, and takes a few seconds to catch her breath.

“…They had to send me to Wellness within the first few hours of my arrival. I couldn’t stop hyperventilating… it fucking sucked. But, I’m here now. So yeah. You kinda have to learn how to just… deal. It sucks, and it’s advice that doesn’t even work half the time, and I hate hearing it, hearing myself saying it, but… there really is no other option for us. Think about it this way; we exist here. Only here. If we were to leave… we’d be gone.”

Jay sits there for a couple seconds, tapping his fingers on the desk as he processes her words. He does feel a tad bit guilty for provoking her—but hey, at least he got some more information out of it.

After taking a solid minute to ruminate on what he was just told, he looks up.

“…What kind of sick fuck would do this?”

Notes:

I originally planned to post this tomorrow, on November 1st, buuuuut got impatient and also!! Today is my 4th Ao3 anniversary! So although I haven't really used this site all that much, I wanna change that. Updates from here on out will (hopefully) be on the 1st of each month, so the next is December 1st. We'll see how long that lasts.

If there are any other tags you think I should add to this, please let me know! I'll be adding tags as the story progresses, but I'm not sure what else to tag this as in the meantime.

Also, you might've noticed that the chapter title is a song lyric. They all are; I couldn't think of any creative titles, so I pulled lyrics from my playlist lmao.

Lyric: "Your Hell Is All That's Real"
Credit: "Left For Dead Lullaby" by Mori Calliope

Chapter 2: Antipathy World

Chime.

Mika’s eyes open to see his floor’s Supervisor smiling joyfully back at him.

“Good morning, Mika S. Mind taking a walk with me?”

“Uhhh… sure, yeah.”

He’s not sure why Moist was waiting for him outside of the elevator, but it certainly couldn’t be something good. Usually, when he waits like this, it’s because you still haven’t made amends in the Break Room. That… can’t be the case, right? He shudders at the very thought of it.

After embarking, there’s a good few minutes of awkward silence, made more evident by the bright fluorescent ceiling lamps and squeaking of shoes on the polished tiles. Eventually, Moist clears his throat.

“Since you’re the one who arrives earliest, and the one who is the most affected by this; I’m afraid to tell you that your current, or should I say former, Department Chief is… no longer with us.”

“What? Nopeify’s gone? What happened?”

“I can’t give you the details because it would be a breach in non-disclosure policy. All you need to know is that he is no longer a part of this office.” He pauses, giving Mika a much-needed minute to digest the information. “MDR still needs a Department Chief, however, and The Board has deemed you fit to take on the responsibility.”

“I—really? Me? Are you guys sure? I mean, I really don’t think I’m the best choice, I’ve only been here a couple of years…”

“Trust me, you are perfect for this position. Now, I want you to make me a promise… could you do that for me?”

Mika hurriedly nods his head.

“I need you to keep this a secret from the others. I wanted to prepare you ahead of time, but they deserve to be able to find out later when I announce it to everyone as a group. You can do that, right?”

“Yes, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good. You will be meeting with Ms. Skeen in her office to make things official. I’ll bring you there after I get a chance to chat with your coworkers—see you then!” By now, they have arrived at the entrance to Macrodata Refinement. Moist exchanges one last smile with Mika before heading back out into the winding halls.

Shit, will he be able to keep a promise like that? After all, Nopeify’s gone, no warning, no… no nothing. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back. He didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. Nobody got a chance to say goodbye. And the polite exchanges that are made when someone leaves for the day don’t exactly count, do they? It wasn’t a real goodbye, the kind you give to someone who you know you’ll never cross paths with again. Then again, they didn’t know—couldn’t have known. Loss is usually the kind of thing they prepare you for here, at least a little. In this instance, however…

It’s new territory. One Mika doesn’t exactly want to explore. He’s terrified by the concept that one day, when he ascends in that elevator, he’ll never wake up again. That he’ll essentially be dead. Erased forever.

Oh, crap, wait—didn’t Moist mention he’s the new Department Chief for MDR back there?

…How the hell is that gonna work out?!

----------------------------------

As one can probably guess, Mika didn’t get a whole lot done in the first ten-or-so minutes since he arrived at the office. There’s just a whole lot of “How? What?? Why?!?” that he has to sift through before he can even think about focusing on the numbers in front of him.

“Mika? Miiiikaaaaa…”

“Hm?” He’s snapped out of his thoughts by his coworker, Pandah, whom he never realized had arrived.

“You okay? You seem kinda out of it. I’ve been calling your name for at least a minute now.”

“Oh,” He puts on a quick smile. “Sorry about that. Do you need help with something?”

“No, I was just wondering how long you were gonna stare at the wall for.”

“…Thanks for snapping me out of it. I, uhhh… I should probably get back to work.”

Pandah opens his mouth as if to say more, but does not push any further. Instead, he slides the screen between them back up and returns his focus to his work.

A few minutes later, Astrid arrives as well, darting immediately to her desk to resume work on her assigned file. The deadline is coming up, and she seems pretty close to being done. A few minutes after that, when Nopeify usually arrives, the group is instead met with silence. A notable void. Agitation spreads among individuals already plagued with early-morning agitation, scrolling through a list of logical excuses in their mind as they scroll through the ocean of numbers on their screen.

Mika notices the others glancing at the entrance every now and then—he even catches himself eyeing the doorway.

Eventually, Pandah breaks the silence. “I swear, if he’s out sick again… that’s like, what, the fifth time this quarter?”

“Fourth,” Astrid corrects him. “But either way, his numbers are shit. At this rate we’re not gonna make quota.”

“Awwwwww, there goes my Waffle Party……”

“I’m sorry, your Waffle Party?”

Mika makes an attempt to swallow the lump forming in his throat as the other two bicker back and forth. Hurry UP, Moist. How long can a secret like this even be kept? Not much longer, surely…

Just then, their Supervisor, thankfully, enters the room. It’s rare for Mika to feel relief whenever he’s nearby, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about lying to his coworkers any longer.

“Good morning, Refiners! I have a quick announcement for you all this morning. Nopeify has left the office.”

Moist glances around the room, likely in an attempt to gauge everyone’s reactions. Mika doesn’t need to do so in order to guess what everyone is feeling—Astrid is surprised; Pandah is shocked; he himself is miserable. Moist nods and clears his throat.

“Now, I know this is a very sudden—very unexpected—change, but don’t worry. We’ll have a new colleague joining us today, so his chair won’t be empty for long.”

Pandah is the first to speak out. “Wait, you’re just gonna… replace him? How did you even—”

“ Coincidentally, someone has decided to join us.” Moist cuts him off. “It would have been the same regardless. But now, since your former Department Chief is gone, you’ll be needing a new one. Mika—please follow me to Ms. Skeen’s office, she and The Board would like to speak with you.”

The other two watch Mika as he pushes his chair away from his desk and follows the Supervisor through the halls. He’s sure it is not out of malice—the three of them have a general sense of how things work around here by now—but by Kier, does he wish the floor would collapse from under him, sending him hurtling down to a dark, scary, empty nothingness.

He does not know why. He has not done anything wrong. Yet somehow, he feels as though that is what he deserves.

----------------------------------

Moist stands up, having finished plugging in the mic and monitor. “Alright, it’s all set up. You remember what you’re supposed to do from when you shadowed Nopeify?”

The meeting was relatively short—official, superficial—an inconvenient blip in an otherwise consistent work day, if anything. A perfunctory sort of clockwork. For Ms. Skeen and The Board, at least. And The Board, as usual, did not speak.

Mika warily thanked them anyway.

He would’ve been completely complacent with, prefer even, being given the rest of the day to sit at his desk and pretend like nothing is wrong, that nothing has changed. Unfortunately for him, Moist declared it his responsibility to run the orientation for his new colleague; the replacement.

He responds with an assured nod; though he certainly does not feel it. “Yup. I mean, it’s been a while, but not that long, so… I think I’ll be good.”

“Good, that’s good. Pandah will be accompanying you today, just so he can get an understanding on how the orientation process works. Don’t worry—you’ll do fine.”

He gives them a final smile and closes the door.

It’s been a rough start to the day, and Mika needs to reset a little before jumping into this new activity. Luckily, Pandah’s the kinda guy who is easy to relax around. Even now, he doesn’t seem all that fazed by this turn of events—but he is, even if he tries to hide it. The first… “death” in the office—whether by retirement or quitting—is always a shocking and traumatic experience, especially for the newer hires. Shoving their eyes right towards the blinding light of revelation. Revelation of your own mortality.

…And to be honest, it’s the kind of feeling that doesn’t numb with time.

So instead of letting mourning and anxieties weigh him down, Mika turns to his colleague, forces a smile, and shoves aside his pessimistic spiraling in hopes of normalcy; of the playful banter usually exchanged between him and his colleagues.

“My first day as Department Chief, and they’re already having me train my replacement.”

Pandah folds his arms behind his head and leans back. “So glad that they already recognize my leadership potential. Give it a few more months, and I’ll be running the place.”

Mika rolls his eyes. “Honestly though, I can’t figure it out; why me? Astrid’s been here longer. She definitely has more experience. It’s kinda sexist…”

“I dunno dude, you ended up taking the job. Doesn’t that make you part of the problem?”

“Shit… does it? …I am not in the right state of mind to be in a moral quandary right now.”

“I mean, I know Nopeify died or whatever, but if you gotta worry about ‘the right state of mind’ for moral qua—quad—what did you say? Doesn’t matter. Can’t stop that sweet, sweet progress.”

“…Uh- huh .”

“You wanna know the real reason they picked you?” He shifts in his seat, sitting back up. “You’re a kiss-ass.”

“ Hey! ”

“Whaaaat? It’s true. You know I’m right.”

“…Whatever. I should probably get started or else we’ll get an earful. Thanks for, uhh… well, thank you.”

Mika opens up the Orientation Guidebook in front of him. He briefly scans the survey questions and expected responses, before returning to the front of the booklet for the preamble. Exchanging a glance with Pandah, who expresses nothing but complete indifference with maybe a hint of boredom, he begins to read from the top of the page.

“Umm… hi, there, you on the table…”

----------------------------------

He really fucked up that badly out there, huh? Rocking back and forth on his heels. Shouldn’t have let that guy read through the Orientation Guide. Geez, couldn’t he have been a bit more assertive? No way is he going to make it as Department Chief. Picking at his cuticles—blood pools from under the nail, so he smooths the tattered skin back down. That’s gonna be bothersome later. He’ll take care of it some other time, but for now, he has to deal with the excruciating wait as his boss decides how severe his punishment should be. Please, no Break Room… please, please, please —

“So, Mika…” Ms. Skeen is a short woman who makes the effort to maintain a calm countenance. But don’t let her fool you; her temper can truly rattle you to your core, if that’s her intention. You never know when she might explode.

She takes a beat, soaking in the room’s anxious aura. “Tell me what you think went wrong.”

“Well, uh… the survey guide. I shouldn’t have let him read it. The issues with the mic and… and the script, too, I guess…”

She sighs. “Really, I don’t understand how you manage to be so… incompetent, sometimes. You had one task—read from the script— how did you manage to mess up something so simple?”

“Please, ma’am, I don’t want—”

She sits back in her chair and waves off his statement. “No, no Break Room.”

The room fills with a tense, unsettling silence as Rift settles on her final verdict.

“Tomorrow morning, you’ll find a list of your duties as Macrodata Refinement’s new Department Chief. Seeing as there was nobody there to complete those tasks this morning, how about you get a handle on those duties now? The employee lounge could use some tidying up, I believe, so why don’t you start there?”

“Yes ma’am! I’ll go get started on that right away.”

Mika rushes off without giving his boss any chance to potentially change her mind. Thank Kier that he didn’t get sent to the Break Room. Come to think of it, it’s been a while since he’s last gone, hasn’t it? How come? Oh well, probably best not to dwell on it—all that matters is that he isn’t going there now. And hopefully never again… he may have to act like a kiss-ass, but that is far better than the alternative.

The busy work fulfills its purpose, keeping him occupied with the menial tasks of refilling the napkin dispenser and organizing the coffee station. Aside from a quick distraction from Astrid, he stays focused on his tasks, letting them numb his thoughts.

After placing the final snack token back in the jar, he returns to his desk.

An attempt to make conversation with his new coworker is met with no response, but he expected this—they didn’t exactly get off on the right foot. Instead of fretting too much over it, he throws it out of his mind and settles in to resume his work. He tries to not let the buzzer noise coming from the newbie’s computer bother him too much.

Although things certainly were rocky at first, Mika can’t really complain about the rest of the day. Nopeify’s disappearance is certainly unsettling, but their new colleague seems… decent? It’s been a while since there was a new face around the office. The last one was Pandah, about… huh, has it been eight months already? 

Guess so.

Being both the first to arrive and the first to leave, Mika dulls the brightness of the fluorescent lights and the squeakiness of the polished tiles. Instead he pushes the day of Pandah’s orientation to the front of his mind, attempting to recall how Nopeify had handled it, dissecting the differences between the former Department Chief and himself—how to do right . How to be better .

The doors of the elevator open and Mika pulls his ID out of the scanner. He enters the elevator, letting its chime shut off his brain.

•  •  •  •  •  •

A familiar chime rings out, followed by the sound of the elevator doors smoothly opening. He takes one step out of the elevator, followed by another, the security officer’s desk to his right, his locker further down. The doorframe is his landmark.

Once he reaches the doorframe, he stays close to the right side of the wall, making sure to avoid the bench in front of the lockers. His hand trails across the locker doors until he reaches his—fingers flutter as muscle memory opens the lock and exchanges his innie’s personal effects for his own. Finally, he grabs his cane and closes the locker door.

Bidding goodbye to the security guard, from whom he receives the usual indifferent response, he taps the tip of his cane on the ground and exits the small room into the expansive office building.

+ + + + + + + + + +

Jay’s been staring at this screen for hours , and nothing— NOTHING has stood out to him the way both Astrid and the pamphlet told him it would. He’s tried bullshitting it a couple of times, just throwing random groups of numbers into random folders, but each time he does so a giant thumbs-down displays and a really obnoxious buzzer sounds. It was starting to piss him off, so he decided to stop and attempt to complete his task in the way he’s supposed to.

Which, by the way, is also bullshit, because what even is this? It feels less like a job and more like some wacky social experiment type thing.

“Still struggling?” Astrid asks him from the desk across. She pulls down the screen between them. “The day’s almost over. Just look like you’re being productive.”

“I’ve been doing that all day .” He groans. “Besides, what even happens at the end of the day? I’m guessing I don’t just leave… ”

“I mean, you do leave, but not really. Not for us anyways.”

“Then, what, do I just blink and find myself back here?”

“Yu p .”

“Shit… I was joking.”

“Well what did you think happened?”

“I would at least get to… I dunno, dream or something.”

“Nah, we go dormant. So it pretty much feels like we never leave.”

“That’s really depressing.”

Her tone shifts to a sarcastic sweetness. “Isn’t it just?”

Jay groans again, leaning over his desk. “ I swear, I’m gonna fucking kill myself… ”

“Eh. That one doesn’t really work. You usually get caught by Moist or the Head of Security before you reach lights out. Someone who used to work here tried once—you can guess how that went. Well… her outie did quit about a month or so later, so I mean, maybe but… usually they just get really pissed and make you work longer hours.”

“Well, damn.” A brief pause as Jay runs through what he just heard in his head. “Wait, what the hell is an ‘outie’?”

“Oh, uh… how should I… basically The You. From The There.”

“…Thanks, really descriptive.”

“It’s just shorthand for us on the outside. ‘Outies’.”

“Okay but. Why the fuck. Is it called that? Makes it sound like we’re fuckin’, uhh… belly buttons, or some shit. Does this place ever get tired of its own stupidity?”

“Hey, don’t hate the messenger. You asked.”

A few seconds pass, the only sound coming from Astrid’s scroller as she browses her file. Then—wait, is she stifling a laugh?

“Hm? Did you say something?” Jay pipes up.

“Nothing, just… what you said sounded kinda ridiculous. Fuckin’—belly buttons, just… got to me.” She snorts.

Jay huffs and snaps the screen back up, to which Astrid sighs.

“Fine, be like that. I gotta head out now anyways. See you in roughly five minutes.”

She gets up and leaves the room, leaving Jay all by himself. They briefed him earlier on how the entrances and exits are staggered, and yippee, not, his slot is 15 minutes after the day officially starts and ends. The later start time would usually be considered great, if it actually gave him the experience of getting to sleep in. The last fifteen-minute wait, however, is going to be absolute hell to have to sit through each and every single day for the rest of forever.

It’s… really odd to finally be alone. This is the first time he’s had time to himself all day. First time in his whole life, actually, which is a fun little reminder that the hand he has been dealt is honestly kind of ass. And now, with just five minutes left to go until he finally gets to leave (but-not-really-because-you-already-know-why), he might as well get back to the very important work he was doing; fuck all.

Well. If he has to wait, he might as well try to think of another way out of this. Suicide is off the table—’least as of now—and straight-up handing in a resignation won’t do much either, so what else could he try…

His eyes trail to his desk drawer, which if he remembers correctly, contains markers and some sort of sticky note.

It might not work, but it’s worth a shot.

----------------------------------

As the clock ticks off the last seconds of his first day, Jay’s already heading down the hall to the elevator, following the directions Moist had given him earlier. How had he not thought of this before? It’s ingenious! A resignation is easy to decline. But a strong-worded letter, right from the heart, will show this fucker just who he’s dealing with.

He confidently slides his ID into the scanner, determined to leave this place once and for all. Entering the cramped elevator, there is only one thought on his mind; Good riddance . But as the doors close, so close to being free, they halt halfway. A loud, piercing alarm erupts in his ears, red lights blaring. The once white halls bleed with the flashing crimson gleam. His pulse flutters, signaling a panic being sown deep in his chest.

He tries to force the doors shut. They refuse to budge.

The seeded anxiety spreads, coiling around his organs, shortening his breath and squeezing his heart. Spiked with adrenaline, it beats wildly—a rhythmic beating that is more evident each time his hands slip on the shining surface. Nevertheless, he continues to desperately scrape at the doors… this can’t be happening, he’s so close, he just has to—

Mere seconds later, a stern figure appears in the sliver between the doors—he holds up a switch and presses a button, shutting off the alarm. The elevator creaks back open.

The man sighs, exasperated. “Give it here.”

“Give… what, exactly?” Shit shit shitshitshiiiit , that was unfortunately very obvious. Dammit, if he’s gonna be stuck here, which is seeming pretty likely at this point, he should at least get better at lying.

“The note .”

“Oh, uhh… this?” Jay takes out the note. “Yeah no don’t worry, I just… dunno how to file a resignation, thought this would do the trick.”

He grabs the note aggressively, unfolding it. On the piece of paper are the words “FUCK YOU. I QUIT.” in big block letters. The man raises an eyebrow questioningly.

“Are you new around here or something?”

“Just started today, why?”

“And nobody thought to tell you about the Code Detectors?” He doesn't exactly seem enraged… just slightly annoyed, if anything.

“…The what?”

At that moment, Moist appears from the entrance to the hall. It looks as though he arrived in a bit of a rush. He takes a second to give Jay a deathly glare before turning to face the man.

“So sorry for the trouble, Blitz. This is Jay S., he’s… new. The Department Chief must’ve forgotten to tell him about the Code Detectors that are located at all ,” He glances over to Jay, “Of the exits. I’ll have a chat with him in the morning, but do you mind handing this one here over to me for the time being? It won’t happen again after I’ve had a stern conversation with him. I promise.”

“Fine by me.” The man, supposedly named Blitz, replies. He walks off with the note, crumpling it in his hand. As he turns the corner out of view, Jay turns to Moist.

“Holy shit thank you, that was kind of actually—”

“What the HELL were you thinking back there?” His voice is full of rage. Ah shit, again, really? “Trying to smuggle a message to your outie? Are you insane?!? ”

“I just thought—”

“Thought what , exactly? That you could sneak out confidential information? The Code Detectors are set in place to prevent our work here from being leaked to the public, because it is very private, and letting just about everyone see it defeats the purpose of Severance and forsakes the values of Kier himself.”

“Nono, I just wanted to tell him that I quit…”

“Then you submit a resignation form like everyone else! Messages between you and your outie are strictly forbidden. You are not allowed to make contact with him, and likewise he is not allowed to make contact with you.” He sighs and pinches his nose bridge. “Listen… it’s late, and I’m sure it’s been a very long day for you, as it has been for all of us… since you’re new, and nobody thought to inform you of this very important rule, I’ll let it slide this time. And only this time. If you are ever caught trying to pull this shit again, I will send your sorry ass to the Break Room myself . Do you understand me?”

“I—”

“ Do you understand me?! ”

“…Yes, I understand.”

His countenance calms, almost immediately—watching his face return to its default cheery smile after having been so violently contorted with anger is almost as terrifying as his preceding episode had been.

“Good. Now, you should probably leave now, or your outie might be inconvenienced by the slightly-later-than-expected exit time. Traffic out there can be a real mess, you know!”

With that, Moist turns on his heels and makes his way back down the hall. Jay holds up his lanyard with a shaky hand, and after a couple of tries, fits his ID into the slot. The elevator door opens, and warily, he enters it.

I wouldn’t know, dipshit.

•  •  •  •  •  •

The last thing he remembers is going back through the door in the stairwell.

He was surprised when he first awoke there, and honestly a little nervous. Luckily, Moist was there to inform him that it was all part of his orientation. The final time he walked through, he gained awareness in the elevator.

Before that, it was the surgery—his consciousness waning as the chip activated in his brain. If he remembers correctly, after waking up in the elevator the doors will open to reveal a locker room. The waystation he will visit twice—to him once—a day, the gateway between him and his work.

A person to the right clears their throat, causing him to snap to attention. The voice belongs to a gruff gentleman, presumably a security guard.

“So you’re the new guy, huh?”

“Yup. Name’s Jay Schlatt.” He holds out his hand, which the security guard shakes reluctantly.

“Your locker’s to the left. End of the row. See you tomorrow.”

Succinct and professional. He does not know whether to be mildly annoyed or relieved at the limited interaction.

“…See ya.”

He makes his way to his locker, getting familiar with its compartments. He exchanges his Severed ID for his Lumon badge, then does the same for his watch and shoes. He grabs his wallet and closes the locker.

Schlatt wasn’t entirely sure how the day went, or how he handled his first day on the job. But he does feel like this is the right decision; and given more chances—whether a single one or a thousand—he’d choose the same in a heartbeat.

Notes:

Guys it's TOTALLY December 1st I swear, wait hold on don't check your calendar, and uhhh ignore the date posted ^^

Turns out. Planning to release a new chapter towards the end of the semester is. Not Ideal.

Buuuuut it's here now, so yippee! No idea when the next one will be done. I'll get around to it eventually though cause now my brain is full of worms for this

Lyric: "Antipathy World"
Credit: "Phony" by Tsumiki

Chapter 3: Is It That Bad to Work a Polyester Life?

“Good moooorning!” Astrid chirps, twirling her chair around, putting forth a front of excitement in mental preparation for yet another day of work.

 Pandah looks up from his desk. “Wow, you seem awfully energetic. Something happen yesterday, or…?”

To be honest, when the elevator doors opened this morning, she came-to feeling like shit. Why? She has no idea—but in her three years of working at Lumon, she’s found that if she swings her energy really hard in the opposite direction, then those negative emotions dull and everything will balance out by the end of the day.

And then she just has to do it all over again the next day.

…As one can imagine, it’s pretty exhausting.

“I’m sooo close to completing the Ridgewood file, so fucking close, like—” She pinches her fingers—“ This close, and no way am I gonna let it expire on me now.”

“Ooooo, you go girl. …I’m uh. Still only 12% through Lowe.”

“Haven’t you been working on that file for the entire quarter? How the fuck are you only twelve percent done with it?”

“Well, it’s just… easy to lose track of time, y’know? And uh…”

“And yet you were the one complaining about Nopeify’s absence yesterday.” She pauses, eyes settling on her monitor. Shit, was that— okay?

Despite the potential faux pas, Pandah snorts. “Yeah, yeah alright, you’re right. Who am I to talk, even his progress runs laps around mine.”

Several beats pass, the only thing audible being a shuffling from the lounge as Mika gets the coffee machine started—it whirs to life, the caffeine-infused fluid’s familiar acidic scent wafting through the department. Its sharpness increases awakeness, awareness. From his desk, Pandah exhales.

“Do… do people usually just… disappear like that? Like he did?”

“No.” Astrid taps her fingers on the desk. “They don’t.”

“So that’s not—it isn’t gonna happen to me, is it? Or… or any of the rest of us?”

“I mean, I can’t promise that, but it’s highly unlikely.”

Pandah’s foot is pressed against the leg of his desk. Astrid can tell, based on the way the divider wobbles back and forth as he rhythmically alternates pressure application. She can’t decide whether she finds this to be annoying or comforting, but decides it is best not to comment on it regardless.

“By the way, where were you yesterday? You kinda just… disappeared, after the new guy’s orientation, what’s up with that?”

“Nothin’…”

“You say that like it was something.”

“I was just feeling a bit icky.”

“Oh, shit, you think you’re getting sick?”

“I dunno. But it’s nothing new for me, and I’m feeling better today, just yesterday was… ugh. Urgh, even. But today has been… much less ‘urgh’. Tomorrow? Who knows…”

“Well, let’s hope you’re not sick. The last thing we need is another massive shake-up this quarter.”

Pandah clears his throat. “ Speaking of shake-ups…”

He nods his head towards the doorway, where Astrid raises her gaze to find Jay leaning against the frame. His eyes remain glued to the floor. Astrid squeezes hers shut— shit. Something must’ve happened after she left work yesterday, but what?

Guess she’s gotta go take care of this now.

With a sigh, she pushes away from her desk to go figure out what’s got this department’s most recent addition so out of it.

“Hey, ready for, uh… another day on the job?”

“I don’t want to be here. I can’t be here.”

“I mean… you made it through the halls. That counts for something, right?”

Jay shakes his head. “…I just really can’t do this.”

“I’d tell you that you don’t have to, but I really don’t have that kind of authority. I can, however , walk with you to your desk, if you want.”

“Does Moist just—” He hesitates, then takes his eyes off the ground, making contact with Astrid’s. “Is he usually so… mood-swingy?”

“Ohhhh. Oh no. What happened?”

“Turns out there are these things called ‘Code Detectors’, ever heard of ‘em?”

Fuck. Astrid presses her fingers between her brows. “Shit, sorry Jay—I should’ve mentioned that. Yeah, those, uh… they exist. I’m guessing you found out the hard way…?”

“…It wasn’t your responsibility. Apparently, your Department Chief over there was supposed to tell me, and guess what he didn’t do?”

“You did kind of ignore him though, to be fair.”

Jay shoots her a look. “What, are you trying to say it was my fault?”

“Not in the slightest.” She sighs. “Look—the good news is, you’re here, now , which means you weren’t sent to the Break Room over it. And that’s usually what happens when those types of alarms get set off.”

“What the hell is that, the ‘Break Room’? Moist mentioned it too, and it doesn’t sound fucking delightful.”

“It’s… uhh…”

“It’s something we really shouldn’t be talking about.” Mika cuts in, seemingly done with his chores.

“Oh. You. ”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Y’know, you forgot to mention something yesterday that would’ve been pretty damn useful to know.”

“Wait, really?” Mika scrunches his face. “I thought I went over everything… huh… what did I miss?”

Jay raises his eyebrows, scoffs, and withdraws to his desk. Confused, Mika looks back at Astrid.

“What’s up with him?”

“So, well… the Code Detectors…”

“Oh. Uh-oh. ” His eyes widened. “I can see why he’s pissed… did…?”

“Dunno. I… hope nothing bad happened, but…”

Astrid eyes wander to the security camera on the wall. She’s been chatting at the doorway for a while now, behavior that might draw Moist to the department—so with a sigh, she returns to her desk, Mika quickly following suit.

87%— so close—she just has to get this file over and done with.

----------------------------------

“Good morning, Refiners!” Moist chimes, rolling in a cart bearing several bowls of melon. “It’s just about time for Jay’s Welcome Party!”

“…I get a party?”

“You sure do! Now, everyone, bring your chairs together… yes, right over here—it’s time for a little icebreaker.”

They shuffle their chairs, gathering them in a circle. Moist obtains a red dodgeball from under the cart. He stands straight, clutching the foam form between both hands.

“As you all know, I’m Moist, your Supervisor. I’ve worked here at Lumon for nearly six years! One thing you may not know about me is, I enjoy taking lengthy walks on cloudy days. Now!”

He flashes a smile at Mika, followed by an overly-dramatic roll of the ball, and as the turns change, takes his seat.

“Well… I’m Mika S. I’ve been at Lumon for about two and a half years. A fact about me is… I’m your Department Chief now, since…”

His face falls. Clearing his throat, he turns to face Jay—he rolls over the ball despite the latter shaking his head. Jay slouches and waits until it bumps against the inner soles of his feet, only then groaning in frustration as he reaches down for a retrieval.

“So, uhh…” He raises his eyebrows and exhales. “My name is Jay S., I guess, I’ve worked at Lumon for… what, 9 hours now? …That’s pretty much it. I dunno anything about myself, or my personal life, or… anything worth sharing, actually. So, uh… yeah, let’s just—”

He makes an attempt to roll the ball across the circle to Astrid, but Moist blocks it with his foot. She can’t help but feel mildly annoyed by this interception.

“Nuh-uh, that isn’t how this game works.”

“Well, what do you expect me to say? I don’t know jackshit about myself.”

Moist clears his throat and picks up the ball. “Everyone, this is Jay S.—not only is he your newest coworker, but he’s also left handed, and—”

“Wait. Wait. Is that why the keyboard feels so uncomfortable to use? Can I request to swap it out or…?”

Moist strains a smile. “Sure. I’ll bring a replacement from storage later today.”

He taps the ball a few times, then turns back towards Astrid to finally roll it to her. Hold on—oh, crap. She had all this time and didn't think up a proper introduction. …Whatever, she should be able to just wing it. Think of, uh, whatever will sound best to that watchdog of a Supervisor.

“…I’m Astrid Z. I’ve been here at Lumon for three years—let’s see… I quite enjoy, uh… reading, the… principles. Yup.”

Flubbed it, but, fine. The game’s moot anyways. It’s supposed to be set up so that the newest member can gain a sense of familiarity with the rest of the team, but with its strict rules and the whole… amnesia of everything, it isn’t like there’s much info to exchange in the first place. She passes the ball to Pandah.

“And, well,” Pandah leans back in his chair with an exasperated sigh, “I’m Pandah. Pandah V. Y’know, the cool one. So if you have any questions, ask me first before any of these other bozos. I can’t promise I’ll have an answer, but… you should still ask me ‘cause it’d be pretty cool. Oh, and uhh I’ve been here for… fuck, 7 months…?”

“8.” Moist candidly responds, eyes closed and nose bridge pinched.

“Oh, 8 months already, huh? That’s wild.”

Moist shakes his head and turns to face Jay. “If you have any questions, please, please direct them to me or your Department Chief.”

“I just thought since I’m no longer the newest noob here, I get to claim seniority. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands little buddy.” He finishes the statement with a playful punch to Jay’s shoulder, the latter responding with a look of utter abhorrence.

“ Please. ”

“Yeah, uh, you don’t need to remind me…”

Moist breathes a sigh of relief, then stands with a slap of his knees. “Well, now that introductions are out of the way, how about we dig into that melon, hm?”

----------------------------------

She jabs a toothpick into a chunk of honeydew.

It’s one of the few fresh foods Lumon supplies them with, and one of the only treats she can fully partake in. The Egg Bar is off limits, something about a dietary restriction her outie self-imposed. Effects her as well. Moist is very particular about innies adhering to those sorts of things—probably so Lumon can avoid lawsuits. Bars her from some of the snacks in the vending machine, too.

Astrid twirls the toothpick between her fingers, waiting until she’s in danger of dropping it before spinning it the other way. Back and forth, back and forth, takes a bite. Spends seconds savouring its subtle sweetness. The honeydew is gone, a soggy toothpick is all that remains. She reaches for another chunk.

Jay manifests next to her—from where? No clue. He’s holding his own respective toothpick, eyeing the orange fruit it bears. He clears his throat.

“Um. Nice weather we’re having?”

Astrid takes a quick second to process, then snorts. “Oh, yeah, yeah. Just excellent. Did you… did you catch the game last night?”

“Totally. It was super, uh… thrilling? The… the team sure did great at… the sport.”

“How are the kids?”

“Hypothetical.”

“Oh, that good, huh?”

“Well, you know me.”

“Schrödinger’s father.”

“Schrödinger’s… daddy issues.”

Jay takes a bite from his cantaloupe as Astrid crumples from laughter, and a smile she sees creep from the corners of his mouth implies he might finally be adjusting. Or maybe he’s just proud of his joke. His dumb, stupid, nonsensical joke. It did not deserve to be as funny as it was—is her humor just that broken?

“Okay, but actually, what the fuck is a ‘Schrödinger’s’? ”

“It’s, uh—” Astrid moves some stray hairs out of her face. “Something Moist mentioned once. A long, long time ago. When— shit, what prompted it? It was… before Mika even got here, actually. I forget the context, but it had something to do with… huh. Well, whatever, pretty sure it means something that simultaneously is and isn’t. I think it’s named after some guy?”

“Did he have daddy issues.”

“Dude, what is it with you and… ‘daddy issues’ in the last, like, minute? ”

“I dunno. I’m tryna find myself. Or something.”

“And what. Your dad was emotionally absent? That’s the backstory you’ve decided on?”

“Hell, I don’t know if I even have a father…”

“Eh, that’s close enough. I think it counts.”

“My singular defining character trait.”

“You’re fucked I think.”

“Well, I can’t be the whiny newbie bitch forever. That’d get boring pretty damn quick.”

“Oh, trust me, buddy. It wasn’t just boring—it was annoying as hell, too.”

“Now that, that’s just not very nice!” Jay mock-pouts.

“So. Do you want some more melon or did you just come over here to banter?”

“I had, like, one. ”

“The shittier one.”

“They’re different?”

“ Yes! Honeydew is sweet and delicious and cantaloupe is all bitter and… eh. This is vital information that is necessary for your survival.”

Jay sighs and tries a piece of honeydew. He chews it for a couple seconds before shaking his head. “I dunno, it’s just kinda… bland.”

“You heathen. Get out of my sight.”

“I actually kind of agree with him there…” Mika inputs from his desk.

“ Both of you. Out. Now. ”

“I dunno…” Jay shrugs. “You seem to be the odd one out here.”

“ Pandah! Pandah, what do you think? Please side with me here dude because you know I’m right.”

“They’re both kinda nasty, honestly.”

“YOU CAN’T JUST ABSTAIN! THIS IS IMPORTANT!”

“This is probably the least important thing that has ever happened in the entire world actually.”

“ SHIT! ”

“And you all are, once again, rendered completely powerless to my impartiality.”

“You bastard. You’re a bastard, you know that, right?”

“Aw, thank you!”

“Glad to see everyone getting along!” Moist claps. “Unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to, and you all have files in need of refining! …I’ll be back in a bit to pick up the cart.”

The honeydew? Going away so soon? Ah, shit. Oh well.

Guess she’ll just have to grab a mug from the kitchenette and fill it with as many melon cubes as possible. For the bit, of course. This is a bit now. It shall be referenced many a time in the years to come. She must see to it that there is as much bit to reference as possible so that the funnies can be milked for all they are worth.

So, after acquiring her snack, she returns to her desk to resume work on that ever-looming file. Ridgewood. Fucking Ridgewood file. Fuck you. Fuck you, you tough piece of shit. 91%. If not today, she’ll be finished by tomorrow. She better be. Stupid fucking annoying-ass file with its stupid fucking annoying-ass numbers.

…Okay, now that all that’s outta her system, she should be mentally equipped to continue doing. Whatever she’s supposedly doing.

----------------------------------

Ninety-six. Ninety-six percent.

As much as she wishes the rest of the file will breeze on by, it’s always those last few percentage points that are the trickiest to fill up. If you haven’t found those clusters by then, you’ll need to really search for them. Which is a pain, but hey—it still means that ninety-six percent of the file is behind her. So what if she hits a roadblock at 2% left that will take up an entire day to make even a modicum of progress on? It’s not like that’s super taxing to her psyche and makes her want to scratch her brains out or anything. And it’s not like that’s happened before, nearly every time. Nope. Smooth sails from here.

Living in denial is fun!

…If it’ll keep up her productivity momentum, then it’s okay to lie to herself a little bit. Just a little bit.

Blip.

Oh! 97%! How lovely. Smooth sails from here.

If she had a hazard to guess—Mika’s refining at a constant rate, though still twenty-or-so percentage points behind her. Pandah has maybe progressed by… dunno, half a percentage point? And Jay’s still sitting on a big ol’ goose-egg zero. In progress at least. She’s certain he inherited Nopeify’s file, but just what state that thing was left in… she has no idea.

Which means! Once again, she’s the fastest Refiner in MDR. For the eleventh quarter in a row. Great…

It’s not like she can do anything about it. She can’t simply not be a super-genius, that’d be asking too much of her. That’s it, yeah. No other reason to be disappointed, or frustrated, or… anything. Don’t think too much about it. Don’t think too much about it. Everything will be fine if she just doesn’t think too much about it.

Hey, now seems like a good time to grab a drink! Her mug of honeydew is almost empty, anyways. Just one more chunk… tipping her cup, she chews on it, like an ice cube. Like an old friend of hers did.

Moist was not a fan of that guy’s ice-gnawing habit. Warned him about cracking his outie’s teeth. Who gave a shit? They were his teeth, too. Yet the ice maker in the fridge was removed—now, the water cooler is left to distribute a lukewarm liquid all on its own. Most doomed of romantic tragedies indeed. If she had any time to spend on herself, she could definitely write that…

It feels like forever ago that he left the company. It was right before Mika had arrived, leading to a solid few weeks where the only residents of MDR were her and Nopeify. She wonders how he’s doing… although it’s certainly impossible that he still exists in any form that she’ll recognize him in, her chat with Jay earlier struck up a longing for normalcy. Longing for some sort of life, in a way that can easily be accomplished by training her brain to trick itself. The sun! She has seen it indeed.

Maybe he’s still chewing on ice—maybe he did end up cracking his teeth after all.

She lifts her finger off the plastic lever, bringing to her lips a mug full of lukewarm fruit-flavored water. Is this what they call “nostalgia”?

A rattling shakes her from her thoughts, before she realizes it’s just Moist retrieving the melon cart. Then another rattle—more… aggressive? Hm? Is something going on? She peaks around the corner, finding quite the scene: Jay standing in front of the cart, effectively blocking Moist from moving further.

Oh, shit. Jay, don’t—

“Really quickly, while I have you—mind explaining to me what the hell yesterday was all about?”

Ohhhhhhh no.

“…Please, move.”

“Because, I was feeling pretty fuckin’ disrespected back there. Your tone! That tone—it was so… berating.”

“Jay S., may I please ask you to move?”

“And that—that—don’t ‘you know’ me, you know I’ve never been outside. Never even breathed fresh fucking air.”

“I am no longer asking you nicely. Move. ”

“And for that—for the berating, the mocking—I think you owe me an apology!”

Moist attempts to angle the cart away from his confronter, but in a shocking swift motion, Jay grabs the corners of the cart, jolting it still. A strained chuckle escapes his throat, mouth stretched in a seething smile.

“Are you seriously trying to ignore me? How dare you. You think you’re so intimidating—you’re not, you’re not shit, actually, and I refuse to let you leave until I get my apology!”

Straightening his posture and releasing a sigh, Moist attempts to calmly back the cart away from conflict. Jay makes a frantic attempt to jolt it back into place—only for the abruptly exerted force to send it toppling over in a cacophony of crashes. Both malefactors had shied away from the cart’s fall, yet splattered fruit’s split fibers sprinkled juice droplets on white, collared fabric.

Moist’s irritated gaze rises to meet Jay’s.

+ + + + + + + + + +

He’s led down the hallway—winding, spiraling. The man he met at the elevator yesterday does not spare a single glance back. They halt abruptly at a door, where the guard slides his keycard into the slot. It beeps; with a click, the door opens. He firmly nods to Jay.

“Well? Head on in.”

It was not intentional. Well, the hassling certainly was—he wanted that apology, dammit—but the melon cart? He couldn’t have predicted it would tumble over like that. He doesn’t deserve this… whatever this will end up being.

“…It’s ‘Blitz’, isn’t it? You seem like… a decent guy. What… goes on in here, exactly?”

The Head of Security shakes his head. “Can’t tell you. …Sorry.”

With a huff, Jay pushes past Blitz, being met with a surprising lack of resistance. He’s already headed to the mysterious and menacing Break Room anyways, so it’s not like it would matter if he stirred up more trouble.

There’s another hallway—long, dark, cramped. So very different from everything else he has encountered in this hellish place. It’s cold too, with a chill that runs down his arms and stings his fingers when they contact the doorknob at the far end of the hall.

Moist sits at a centrally positioned table. He motions across from him—“Come on in, Jay S. Have a seat.”

Notes:

Soooooo, how's everyone's January going??? :]

Fun Fact: When writing that whole honeydew bit, it was completely just me projecting since nobody seems to like honeydew (cowards...). So imagine my surprise when, just a few days after writing that scene, Astrid goes and posts a fruit tier list with honeydew at the top! (and then deleted it at some point. girl stop deleting your posts you're right speak your truth)

She has excellent taste indeed. does this mean we're soulmates

I've been going through and making teeeeeny little edits to previous chapters here and there as i flesh out the plot a bit. nothing that changes the narrative too much, just mistakes i didn't notice til after posting and small details that fit the story a bit better. i also changed the break line that indicates a perspective shift so it stands out a bit more - the bold was just not very noticeable on the original and i didn't wanna confuse anyone.

No idea when the next chapter will be out but i have made decent progress on it so far - i've been alternating between working on this chapter and that one, but now that this one is finally finished i can actually. give it my full attention. though updates have been slow, i have been piecing together more of how i want this story to go in my head, and the second season of Severance wrapping up totally 100% didn't result in me needing to change a few things!! (<- lies and deceit.)

Have a lovely day and thank you so much for reading :)

Lyric: "Is It That Bad to Work a Polyester Life?"
Credit: "Hito mania" English cover by Rachie, original by Haraguchi Sasuke