The silence was the first sign.

I walked into the office, a place I normally navigate like a soldier crossing a minefield, and the usual cacophony was gone. No gossiping slackers by the coffee machine. No sycophantic laughter from the sales department. Just the low, oppressive hum of the fluorescent lights and the rhythmic, hypnotic clatter of keyboards, like the clicking of a million tiny mandibles.

Everyone was working. Intently. It was the most unsettling thing I’d ever seen.

I filled my water bottle and slid into my cubicle, another gray box in a sea of gray boxes. On the fabric wall in front of me was a new motivational poster. A team of impossibly cheerful rowers, their muscles gleaming, with the word TEAMWORK printed below. My stomach turned. I was caught up on my reports by ten, and the silence began to press in on me, thick and suffocating.

That’s when Bob from accounting shuffled over, his eyes wide and unfocused. He didn’t say a word. He just slid a cheap pair of black sunglasses onto my desk and whispered, his voice a dry rustle, "Look at the signs."

I almost laughed. A prank. Fine. I’d play along. I slipped the glasses on.

The world snapped into a brutal, monochrome reality. The cheerful "TEAMWORK" poster was no longer a photograph. It was a stark, black-and-white command: WE OWN YOU.

My blood went cold. I whipped my head around. The poster of the soaring eagle over the word "SUCCESS" now read OBEY. The kitten poster telling me to "HANG IN THERE" now screamed THERE IS NO ESCAPE.

I ripped the glasses off. Everything was normal. Cheerful rowers. Soaring eagles. A cute cat. But the lie was exposed. I looked at Bob. He was already back at his desk, typing, his face a perfect, placid mask.

I had to get out.

I walked toward the exit, my heart hammering against my ribs. Two men in bland, ill-fitting suits were standing by the door, their faces as empty as the posters.

"The glasses," the one on the right said, his voice flat, without inflection.

"What are you talking about?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it cracked.

"We know you can see," the other one said, taking a synchronized step forward. "Give them to us. Now."

There was no malice in his tone. Just a calm, administrative finality. It was more terrifying than any threat. I handed them over, and their hands clamped onto my arms like vices.

They didn't drag me. They just… escorted me. To a room I’d never seen before, a room without windows. The table was cold steel. As they strapped me down, a calm, grandfatherly voice echoed from a hidden speaker.

"Don't worry, son. This won't hurt a bit. We just need to correct a small perceptual error."

I fought, but the restraints were absolute. A needle, clean and sterile, emerged from a panel in the ceiling. I felt the sting in my neck, the cold liquid flooding my veins. My panic dissolved, replaced by a warm, spreading calm. Needles, thin as spider silk, lowered toward my temples. I saw them coming, and the fear was a distant, unimportant echo. My last thought before the darkness took me was, It’s just a bad dream.

I don’t remember much after that. But I do know that I am so glad for our corporate masters. The corporation is the only thing that matters.

My only meaning in life is work.

I must get back to my desk. I have a report to finish.