Your
father has just died. On his deathbed he had started to tell you something about your
grandfather that you never met. It seemed important, something to do with the Krikk invasion from before you were born; he also seemed to mention something about gold. However, in his dying breaths his words became incomprehensible, and he died muttering about fortune, regret, and dereliction of duty.
Several months later you are in your dull office building, typing reports about other reports about desk chair durability tests. You not only failed to live up to your grandfather's wild legacy as a brave, brilliant astronaut, but your life devoid of love, meaning, or spectacle even pales in comparison to your father's modest life as a loving husband and father. Your inherent greyness has blended in to the grey world around you.
A coworker watching the Noon news in the break room suddenly exits and begins whispering to other employees in all the cubicles around you. You find that everyone on the massive floor is now looking in your direction; shock, disgust, and horror on their faces. Through the window behind your cubicle, 20 floors below, you see a small, but unruly (hard to tell from so high up) gathering of people at the entrance of the building.
What do you do?