FTX Under The Sea

Nov. 8, 2022. A corporate fever dream unfolded. Chaos reigned at FTX headquarters. The chimes of new email notifications blended with the incessant ringing of telephones. Six billion dollars had disappeared in just a few days. The blinds in the windows of the executive office were half shut, and a gentle gloom spilled through the slits. The last of the remaining employees sheepishly stole glances as they walked past, trying to get a glimpse of their boss. No one had seen him in two days. Some surmised he had disappeared all together, and that the music they heard seeping from under the door was just a ruse. Others claimed to see glimmers of light, hinting at movement, but no one really believed them. The door was locked, as one intrepid and desperate VP had discovered the previous afternoon. The employees watched with trepidation as the VP, flustered and at his wits end, desperately jangled the door handle and pounded on the door. There was no reply. After this brazen yet ultimately futile demonstration, the employees scurried back to their desks. The ones in denial of reality made miserable attempts to patch up the massive, sinking ship of their company. The rest sobbed silently, lamenting the bleakness of their future.

Inside the executive office, it was hot and humid. There were dozens of screens and keyboards arranged in a massive, circular command center, with simulations running, calculating and re-calculating. Anyway the numbers were manipulated, they all gave the same answer - bankrupt. The marble floor, once so dignified with its Italian heritage and golden veins, now was covered in a thick slime. Four enormous speakers, one hanging in each corner of the room, blared impossibly loud dance music of menacing, rapid melody with throbbing bass lines. The light from the monitors reflected off a green gelatin, casting a sickly verdant hue on the walls. Tentacles wrapped around the keyboards, input commands, then slithered away to resume their undulations on the floor. The creature spun and laughed maniacally. It caught a glimpse of itself in the window and saw that its transformation was finally complete, only a few curls at the top of its head remained as vestiges of its original form. The green octopus opened its beak in a cry of mischievous glee. It jumped and twirled, flinging its slime across electronics and precious stone. The music droned on and drowned the racket of the panicked workforce. Suddenly, the octopus became aware that the last possible simulation had run its course. The result was identical.  Bankrupt. The creature realized its fate was sealed. It slinked out a plasticine limb and pulled out the master power source, and heavily slithered to the door. Now there was only silence. Outside, the last remaining employee, the intrepid VP, looked fearfully towards the door, having heard the abrupt cessation of the nightmarish opera. The door creaked open an inch, and steam billowed out into the hallway. With a trembling voice, the man approached the office and said, “Sam, is that you?”