The office is empty. Well, maybe that's not an accurate thing to say since I'm in this place, so it cannot be truly empty- like one of those "one hand clapping" or "a tree falling in an empty forest" things that I always pretended to understand but never did.

The TLDR of the current situation is that I'm the only one left. Dan started firing people using a random number generator a while ago. When the people who remained complained about the increased workload and the fact that they had not been paid in over a month, he fired them as well. So, that's it. We all drew metaphorical straws, and I'm still here. I cannot honestly say if I won or if I lost.

It's so empty here that it's a little scary. I'm not saying that I'm scared to be here in this enormous office-ruin by myself. I'm just saying that it's scary.

If I clap my hands, the echo lasts for at least five minutes because the place is cavernous. Management didn't trust anyone to do their jobs if we weren't under constant direct observation, so they corralled us all into a giant open bullpen measuring more than half a mile on each side. Unfortunately, they did not consult with architects or city planners before knocking out the walls, many of them load-bearing, and neglected to add columns for support. As a result, the ceiling is in a state of collapse or near-collapse at several points.

I have had to move my desk at least twice in the last month due to periodic cave-ins, office furniture and cat-5 cables pouring from the ceiling like a clever modern art sculpture. Meanwhile, the real modern art sculptures that, until recently, lined the expensively decorated halls of Swatchity HQ were all carted off shortly after Dan disappeared. I sometimes spent my breaks chatting with them. I miss them sometimes.

Back when we have other people here, I used to wear headphones to drown out the sound of conversations around me, and now I do it to mute the hiss of broken water lines. Recently, though, I've stopped wearing them altogether because I need to be mindful of subtle sounds around me that could turn out to be dangerous. By that, of course, I mean animals.

Our Scrum manager kept a 1 lb. "family size" bag of key lime mints in the drawer of her desk that has sat abandoned since she was let go along with nearly everyone else some time ago. You can imagine where this is going. Once the office went full-on feral, the opened bag of sweets attracted cats who were chased off by raccoons who, in turn, were chased off by wolves. So, now we have wolves.

On a brighter note, I've made some new friends recently. I'm not good at identifying animals, so please bear with me. They're tiny creatures, mammals for sure, with a curly coat of bright green fur. I can't say for sure, but I think they may be mice who mutated in a pool of irradiated Cherno-Cola energy drinks spilled when the vending machines were toppled by exiting employees.

Regardless of what they are, I think they're fantastic. Our relationship is mutually beneficial. They help me control the wolf problem, and I bring them bits of food and read to them at night.

I know what you're thinking, and I agree that the situation is not great. I would go so far as to describe it as "decidedly non-ideal." I have thought about quitting, but the non-competitive agreement I signed says that I can't work for another tech company for 50 years. That sounds excessive, but oh well. I'm the fool who signed it. Also, I don't want to leave my new friends behind. They depend on me, I think. I sometimes fancy that they look on me as their protector, worship me as a kind of god. I've never felt anything like that before, and I have to admit that like it. Sue me.

Also, I am an intern. I should have said that up front. When they let the internship program manager go, I just kept showing up because I hadn't explicitly been told not to do so. So, as the last remaining Swatchity employee I spend my days as any intern would, playing Minesweeper and trying to look busy.