There’s something peaceful about the isometric sterility of Lumon Industries’ central setting, separationWith its sophomore season arriving after three long years, the Apple TV+ series creates a world of impossibly clean lines, uncluttered lighting, and a distinct lack of clutter; Save, of course, the existential mess brewing in the minds of its “innies.” For those unaware, employees of the fictional megacorporation voluntarily undergo a surgical procedure that splits their consciousness into two parts: an “outsider”, who lives his or her life unaware of the work, and an “insider”. , whose entire existence begins and ends within the office. The logical conclusion behind this terrifying corporate utopia is clear – workers are stripped of any semblance of individuality in order to become perfect cogs in the machine.
Amid recent conversations about grueling 90-hour work weeks for its Indian audience, the uncomfortable ideas driving the series are starting to hit much closer to home. When Infosys co-founder Narayana Murthy led the ongoing debate on Work Week by suggesting that India’s youth should work longer hours to “compete with global standards”, he was probably unaware of the His words reflected the ethos of Lumon.
Of course, the absurdity of Lumon’s existence makes it separation So mesmerizing. Employees spend their days performing vaguely abstract tasks – sorting numbers into meaningless categories based on instinct (disturbing to anyone who has ever considered the value of their Excel sheets). This conceit painfully reflects the divisions necessary to survive the untold reality of modern work, and Lumen workers have no reason to question this system, as they have been denied the very concept of life outside of it. Is.
A scene from Apple TV’s ‘Severance’ Photo Credit: Apple TV
Although technically free to leave the house, India’s youth workforce faces its own cognitive disconnect. The growing voice of business leaders advocating marathon work weeks presents their demands in the language of patriotism and sacrifice. “Work hard for the country,” they urge, as if citizenship depended on unpaid overtime. But behind this mythology of personal achievement lies a familiar adage: time is currency.
What separation Captures the corporatization of human identity so brilliantly. Its characters are stripped of everything that makes them human: family, friends, desires, even names. They become the most efficient tools of productivity, rewarded not with any financial gain but instead with kid-pleasing perks – watermelon bars, waffle parties, and the infamous “music-dance experience.” It’s hard to compare to the demonstrative incentives often dangled before corporate employees: the pat on the back after a 12-hour shift, the ubiquitous beanbag in the break room, the talk about “teamwork” on HR emails announcing budget cuts. separation Suggests that Lumon’s true horror lies not in its strangeness but in its familiarity. We recognize its customs, its language and its logic, because we have lived them. It is a distilled corporate principle that creates an illusion of purpose.
If Lumon’s shift represents the ideal worker – completely obedient and forever available – then his shift also symbolizes those ambitious employees who are different enough to sign away their autonomy but still close enough to persist. Let’s invest. The much-infamous comment by L&T’s SN Subramanian, who quipped about employees spending Sundays “staring at their wives”, drew ridicule for its crudeness, but the underlying sentiment sounds quite familiar. After all, if life outside of work is supposed to be meaningless, why bother with it?
However what makes separation What’s more than clever satire is the way it explores the cracks in the system. Beneath the impeccable facade of Lumon’s corporate Eden, a seething rebellion is brewing. Whispered conversations shielded from the prying eyes of higher-ups and stolen glances at ‘forbidden’ files are small acts of resistance that serve as a powerful counter-narrative to the dehumanizing grind. Even the most repressive systems rely on the complicity of those they oppress, and resistance, no matter how quiet, is always possible.
The recent Internet reaction to Luigi Mangione’s alleged murder of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson has highlighted a similar simmering current of anti-capitalist anger. For many, Mangione’s rise as a pop cultural messiah evokes the same sadness that led Willy Loman to his tragic end. death of a salesman Or inspired Peter Gibbons to rebel against corporate tyranny Office location.
A scene from ‘Office Space’ (1999)
Today’s working class increasingly views corporate giants as rivals in a zero-sum game, and it’s no coincidence that most of the support for Mangione comes from a generation steeped in debt and in those institutions. Trust is eroding in those who seem unable to improve. The Internet’s reaction to the workweek debate only furthers this disillusionment, as the invocation of these inhumane hours turns life into the same transactional drudgery that defines Lumon.
The show is beginning to sound worryingly cautionary for the Indian workforce. The pressure to work longer hours has begun to redefine labor as an identity, morality, and duty; And it is this same worldview that flattens the complexity of human life into neat lines of KPIs. Although none of us will ever walk the halls of Lumon, many can recognize its suffocating hold on our workplaces. Whether it’s a 90-hour workweek or another weekend consumed by the constant pinging of Outlook notifications, the insidious unspoken mantra remains: Your time belongs to the company.
By presenting Lumon as this duality of possibility and exaggeration, separation It has forced us to confront painful truths about the systems that control our lives. How much autonomy can we sacrifice in the name of professionalism or patriotism before we lose ourselves completely? How much of our time have we given to employers who see us as columns on a balance sheet? And how much more are we willing to endure before we finally say enough?
The debate over work weeks is not just about getting things done on time; Rather, the kind of society we want to maintain. Will we continue to drain time as if it is an infinite resource, or eventually reclaim it as something precious – a space for joy, rest and, perhaps most radical, rebellion? For those who are staring down the frustrating eternity of another unbearably long day at work, this question may seem especially urgent.
published – January 22, 2025 12:02 PM IST
