"You know what," Jack said, his consciousness now distributed across 23.1 trillion nanomachines while maintaining perfect livestream quality to his multiversal audience, "I'm curious about the company culture here. Can you give me a tour?"
Brad's constellation-face lit up with the kind of genuine enthusiasm that only middle managers talking about their workplace could achieve. "Absolutely! We're really proud of our culture here at Architects Inc. Very collaborative, lots of synergy between departments."
The tour that followed would be remembered across forty-seven galaxies as the moment when cosmic horror met corporate banality and somehow made both worse.
They started with the "Innovation Center," which was a room full of entities staring at holographic displays showing various civilizations. The displays had labels like "Suffering Optimization Project 4847" and "Extinction Event Beta Testing (Phase 3)."
"This is where we brainstorm new ways to maximize character development opportunities," Sarah explained proudly. "Last quarter, we developed a new trauma-to-growth ratio that increased protagonist engagement metrics by 23%."
One of the entities working at a display looked up and waved. "Hey Brad! I just finished designing a new type of personal loss that triggers exactly the right amount of revenge motivation without pushing subjects into complete despair. Want to see the test results?"
"Maybe later, Kevin," Brad said. "We're showing our new Senior Protagonist around."
The GalacticTok chat was experiencing collective trauma:
THEY HAVE A TRAUMA OPTIMIZATION DEPARTMENT
KEVIN DESIGNS PERSONAL LOSSES
THIS IS ACTUAL NIGHTMARE FUEL
I NEED THERAPY AFTER WATCHING THIS
Next was the "Quality Assurance Department," where Dave apparently worked. It was filled with entities reviewing "protagonist performance footage" on multiple screens. Jack recognized some of it—battles he'd fought, decisions he'd made, moments of grief he'd experienced after his family's death.
"We monitor all our protagonists 24/7," Dave explained. "This footage helps us identify areas for improvement and optimization opportunities."
One screen showed the moment Jack had discovered his wife and daughter's bodies. Another showed his first nanomachine injection. A third showed him liberating the Mind Flayer fleet.
"See, this liberation sequence?" Dave pointed at the screen. "Classic deviation from established parameters. Our algorithms predicted a 94% probability of you using the ships for conquest, not freedom. Really threw off our projections."
An entity at a nearby desk looked up from reviewing footage. "Dave, the Zephyrian protagonist is also showing liberation tendencies. Should we initiate corrective measures?"
"Put it in the queue," Dave sighed. "We're backed up three quarters on corrective interventions."
Jack's nanomachine count hit 25.4 trillion as he processed the fact that his most intimate moments of pain and growth had been corporate content this entire time.
The break room was somehow the worst part. It had a coffee machine (normal corporate coffee, not cosmic energy), a refrigerator with passive-aggressive notes about food theft ("Jessica, your yogurt expired 3 eons ago. Please dispose of it. -Management"), and a bulletin board covered in typical office announcements.
"Reminder: Casual Friday now includes interdimensional casual wear!"
"Lost: One pocket dimension containing my lunch. If found, please return to Tim in Planetary Resources."
"Office birthday party for Sarah next Tuesday! She's turning 847,000 years old!"
But the announcement that made Jack's consciousness recoil was a simple printout: "QUARTERLY SUFFERING TARGETS - We're 12% below goal for Q3! Remember, every tragedy counts toward our bonus structure!"
Brad noticed Jack staring at it. "Yeah, we've been struggling to meet targets lately. Too many protagonists are developing resilience faster than our models predict. We might need to adjust our trauma delivery methods."
Tim nodded. "The Senior Partners aren't happy. Last quarter's suffering metrics were the lowest in company history."
Jessica sighed. "It's all these liberation movements. Really disrupting our established suffering ecosystems. Used to be you could rely on oppression lasting at least a few millennia. Now everyone wants to be free immediately."
Sarah looked directly at Jack. "Which is why your performance improvement plan is so important. If we can get you back to standard protagonist parameters, it might inspire other liberators to return to traditional character development cycles."
The tour ended in the executive conference room, where a massive screen displayed the company's mission statement: "Architects Inc: Maximizing Growth Through Optimized Suffering Since the Beginning of Time."
Below it was their corporate motto: "Every Ending is a New Beginning (for Our Quarterly Reports)."
Jack stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by entities who treated the fundamental experiences of consciousness—love, loss, growth, hope—as line items in a business plan. His nanomachine count was now approaching theoretical limits, and his consciousness was beginning to interface with the building's infrastructure in ways that definitely violated several interdimensional treaties.
"Chat," he said to his multiversal audience, his voice carrying frequencies that were causing the building's Wi-Fi to spontaneously improve, "I think I've seen enough. It's time for a hostile takeover."