[ WP ] Everyone does the exact same mundane thing at the exact same time one day . The reason and results are terrible .

I awoke to the radio. It was playing Fi $ her Price's `` Do The Moves''. I had that shit stuck in my head the whole day. *That* song, on *that* day. It sounds ridiculous, but I would n't have minded the apocalypse so much if it had had a better soundtrack. 
 
 I was out of Generic Brand Frosted Malt Flakes. Last day in the Old World, and I did n't even get any fucking Generic Brand Frosted Malt Flakes. I was still humming that song: `` Drop the beat, drop the beat,'' I found myself saying out loud. 
 
 I drove to work, same as ever. The song played again. Safely cosseted in my car, anonymous in traffic, I sang out loud. `` Throw the dice, throw the dice.'' Stupid lyrics. Literally written by a song-making algorithm. They'd made a big show of it in the marketing. 
 
 Judith had the song playing on YouTube at the office. She'd clicked on an advertising comment - before explaining which of her kids had done the *most* adorable thing at the weekend - and mentioned the Event. 
 
 `` I do n't give a shit,'' I said. 
 
 She scowled. `` You should be nicer,'' she'd told me. 
 
 `` To who? To Fi $ her Price? That warbling empty talent vacuum?'' 
 
 Judith looked shocked. `` You do n't like Fi $ her Price?'' 
 
 `` Like him?'' I asked. `` Are you kidding? He's nothing. He's a goddamn cypher. He's a placeholder where you'd fill a human being in later if you had time.'' 
 
 She pointed to her screen. `` Well,'' she said. `` That *placeholder* is having his song played on every radio station in the world at three o'clock. Is *that* what you'd call the actions of a'nothing'?'' 
 
 `` Yes,'' I said. `` Literally. That's exactly what I'm telling you a'nothing' would do. Someone who was'something' would n't *ever* do that. They would n't need to.'' 
 
 Sam - the boss - in an attempt to build morale, had freed up the three minutes and thirty eight seconds required to get through `` Do The Moves'' with what he called'The World's Shortest Office Party'. `` You on board?'' he'd asked. 
 
 `` I do n't know,'' I said. `` How short is it?'' 
 
 He looked down on me. Figuratively, and literally. `` This is why you're not popular around here,'' he said. 
 
 `` I can live with that,'' I told him. 
 
 Three o'clock. `` Drop the beat, drop the beat,'' Fi $ her Price sang. 
 
 The office waggled, and waved. 
 
 `` Throw the dice, throw the dice,'' Fi $ her Price sang. 
 
 The office gestured, with varying levels of vague mimicry. 
 
 `` Jump to the left, jump to the left,'' Fi $ her Price sang. 
 
 The earth started to shake. It did n't stop until... well. You know the rest.
