A dream turns into a nightmare. That's the tone of "Severance".
At some point in our professional lives, many of us have likely fantasized about completely separating work from our personal lives. The idea of being able to work when necessary and enjoy life without the burden of work is appealing—a division where the two aspects of our lives never overlap. In the world of "Severance," Lumon Industries has turned this dream into reality. This enigmatic and expansive company has developed separation technology that effectively switches people's brains: turning them into workers (innie) as they enter the company building and ride the elevator down, and then back into regular individuals (outie) as they leave at the end of the workday. Workers are aware that they have lives outside of Lumon Industries, and outies know they work there and undergo brain surgery, but beyond that, their knowledge is limited. There exists an impassable barrier between these two states. However, when new employees join Lumon Industries, this once-stable arrangement begins to unravel, causing disruption.

“Severance," in terms of its theme, setting, and internal structure and progression, is a standard dystopian story. Its progression follows the typical pattern of dystopian stories: imprisonment - awakening - obstruction - escape. People go from being isolated atoms to truly collaborating teams, from fragmentation to cohesion and trust. This progression forms a clever resonance, contrast, and opposition with the "severance" in the story, both in terms of separation and reconciliation, confrontation and reconstruction. This is true for the mechanisms in the brain as well as for people's actions and relationships. The narrative paradigm of dystopia is thus established from within.
The factor that creates cracks in this super stable structure starts with the appearance of Helly R. This young woman wakes up in a conference room, finds herself with no way out, hears questions coming from a small speaker, answers them without context, and then she is told she will be working at Lumon Industries and watches a video of her voluntarily undergoing severance. Her job - if it can be called that - is to select "scary numbers" on the screen and eliminate them.

The old computer screen flickered with dancing numbers, reminiscent of 8-bit video games from the era of the Nintendo Entertainment System. From there, subtle scenes began to unfold. In reality, everything about this company was like a stage set, and the employees' behaviours were like performances they didn't quite understand. It was filled with oddities - four people worked in close proximity in a massive office, the company exuded minimalist lines and obsessive cleanliness, adorned with founder quotes and portraits. As the four main characters explored the company, its true nature was gradually revealed: punishments and rewards, psychological treatments and behavioural interventions, middle managers with always-smiling faces but hidden agendas, a company board that only spoke through voice recordings, and other mysterious departments hidden throughout the building, unable to communicate with each other.
Lumon Industries seemed perfect, neatly tucked away and secure. But something was missing. What was it? Freedom, autonomy, and answers about everyone's backgrounds and roles. In other words, it was like an isolated chamber where everyone had no reason or destination, their actions had no cause or consequence. Their minds were suddenly filled with a set of codes, making them puppeteers pulling strings to complete tasks for a piece of chocolate, some pastries, or a photo symbolizing honour. It seemed that these were the most exciting things worth striving for. They were like monkeys and guinea pig running through mazes and wheels, always watched by invisible eyes.

Work and life had always existed as two separate, stable worlds until Helly R arrived at Lumon Industries and decided to break free from the suffocating life there. This decision created a dilemma: to leave Lumon Industries, one had to be aware of this idea and make a conscious decision to leave. Otherwise, the external persona would continue the endless cycle of commuting to work and returning home every day. Lumon Industries had stringent security measures, making it impossible to hide any written material on one's person when leaving. This meant that individuals who had undergone brain surgery could not "work together" with themselves from both inside and outside the company. This situation mirrors the classic "Catch-22" dilemma, similar to the paradoxical hypothesis: how does one prove they are not mentally ill if they are sent to a mental hospital? From this perspective, Lumon Industries can be seen as an advanced version of Jeremy Bentham's Panopticon and Big Brother in "1984". While old surveillance methods were external, the surveillance in Lumon Industries is directly embedded in the brain.
In the end, the reason for inspiring resistance and courage in dystopian settings like this one is always love. In this story, there's Irving's homosexual love, Dylan's paternal love for his child, and Mark's nostalgic love for his deceased wife... All of these come together to represent the warmth of human nature, while on the opposite side are the executives at Lumon Industries who believe in the system with fervour and coldness, tenderness and toughness. This creates an inevitable confrontation between universal human nature and the "beliefs" instilled later in life.

"Severance" has been hailed by fans as a long-awaited masterpiece because it not only adheres to the classic formula of dystopia but also extracts a new flavor. On the other hand, it's because of the countless details hidden within the show. The company's overhead view resembles a slice of the human brain; Irving's black, viscous liquid hallucination during work is the paint used by his "external self”.
This workplace-based drama also intentionally set up an official LinkedIn account, providing access to deeper puzzles related to the plot. It's not necessary to notice these numerous references to understand the plot, but if you do find them, it's like being thrown into a grand carnival filled with obvious symbols and hidden allusions, making you recall some distant detail or giving you goosebumps.
In "Keep the Aspidistra Flying," George Orwell wrote, "The decalogue has been reduced to two commandments. One for the employers—the elect, the money-priesthood as it were—'Thou shalt make money'; the other for the employed—the slaves and underlings—'Thou shalt not lose thy job.'" This quote serves as a premonition that helps explain the themes of 'Severance'. In the show, the company transcends mere monetary concerns to become a metaphor for a concentrated power system. While the story isn't explicitly political, it uses the concept of the company to critique all systems, institutions, and mechanisms of institutional power, conducting a cold trial. From this perspective, the narrative can be seen as Kafka rewriting 'Catch-22' and then being edited by George Orwell.

'Severance' raises a fundamental question about our identity and humanity: memory. Memory defines our freedom, our sense of self, and our very human nature. It is crucial to defend memory from tampering, interception, addition, or misappropriation by external forces. The first season concludes with a major revelation: Mark's wife is alive and has been living in Lumon Industries all this time. This revelation becomes a powerful motivator for Mark to rescue his wife and free himself. The many small mysteries buried within the story may gradually be unravelled as the narrative progresses.
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