The prophet, resplendent in a bright yellow jumpsuit, stood at the helm of his office, surveying the chaos before him.
The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting an otherworldly glow over the rows of cubicles, each one a battleground of caffeine-fueled despair.
A single, brave soul dared to ask the prophet, "Um, what's the point of all this?" The prophet's response was met with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"The point, my friend, is that the Apocalypse is nigh, and we must be prepared."
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