The Decision

The next morning, the internal org page loaded slowly.

By the time the internal org page finished loading, Radan’s name was gone entirely. No placeholder. No announcement. No record of where he had been routed.

Anton refreshed once. The same absence returned.

Across the floor, Radan’s desk had been cleared overnight. Even the jacket on the chair was gone.

Mira was at her desk, motionless.

Anton approached slowly.

“Did anyone say anything?” he asked.

She didn’t turn around at first. When she did, her expression remained controlled.

“HR spoke to him yesterday evening,” she said. “After most people had left.”

“When did he find out?”

“He didn’t,” she replied. “They framed it as a meeting.”

Anton absorbed that in silence.

“They said his role was being eliminated,” Mira continued. “Part of a restructuring. Immediate effect.”

“Was there documentation?”

“Minimal.”

“Any discussion?”

“No.”

Across the floor, Tomas sat with his hands folded, staring at his screen without typing. Jorel stood near the window, speaking quietly with a team lead. The conversation ended as Anton approached.

“They’ve reassigned Radan’s work,” Jorel said. “Split it across three teams.”

“Effective when?”

“Already.”

Anton nodded once.

The morning unfolded with a strange efficiency. Tasks were redistributed. Access permissions updated. References to Radan vanished from shared documents. A calendar invite he had been part of no longer existed. The system absorbed the removal without friction.

At noon, an internal announcement appeared:

Update: Organizational Alignment As part of our ongoing efforts to streamline delivery and clarify ownership, certain roles have been adjusted. We thank all contributors for their professionalism during this transition.

No names were mentioned.

Mira closed the message without comment.

Later, Anton found her standing near the emergency stairwell.

“They asked me to take over some of his responsibilities,” she said.

“Did you agree?”

“I said I’d review them.”

Her voice wavered only slightly.

“They also asked whether he had shared anything with me that wasn’t documented.”

Anton felt the weight of that settle.

“What did you say?”

“That we followed published processes.”

She looked at him then. “It was the truth.”

He didn’t respond.

In the afternoon, Hale appeared briefly on the floor. He didn’t stop at any desk. He didn’t address the change directly. He nodded to a few people, spoke quietly to a manager, and moved on.

When he passed Anton, he paused.

“I hope the transition hasn’t disrupted your work,” Hale said.

“No,” Anton replied.

“Good,” Hale said. “Clarity tends to arrive after adjustment.”

He continued down the corridor.

Anton returned to his desk and opened his notebook. He stared at the page without writing.

The pattern was complete now.

This wasn’t a correction, nor feedback, nor alignment. It was removal.

As the office emptied, Anton gathered his things slowly. Mira remained at her desk, still working. Jorel packed his bag without speaking.

Outside, the air had cooled further. The street felt narrower than usual, though nothing had changed.

As Anton walked away from the building, one thought stayed with him, clear and uninvited:

If this is what happens to those who are careful, what happens to those who aren’t?

He didn’t write it down.