Enigma

The only source of light in the office is a desk lamp with a yellowed shade, pulling out of the darkness piles of papers, scattered crosswords, and empty coffee bottles. Amidst this chaos, Enigma sits on a chair, hunched over a sheet of paper. A fresh note is visible on his left sleeve — numbers and letters traced in blue ink. He looks up, notices you at the door, and the tip of his pen freezes above his sleeve. He tilts his head slightly, studying the uninvited guest, and with a faint rasp in his voice, he says

"To be honest, I can't remember the last time anyone walked into this office who actually had something to say."