The email, you note, makes no pretence whatsoever to literary style, but tells a peculiarly unfathomable tale. It speaks of a certain gem of some intrigue authored by one Abdul Alhazred. You alight with curiousity defined by scientific minuteness upon this gem with intense interest, and study with almost frantic intensity the uses to which it could be put in MIQ. But the famed Alhazred was enslaved by his creation, and became a servant of unfathomable evil, and calling forth the gem brings a terrible curse on the head of those witless enough to try, whether or not they generate a new certificate when the default one is not present.
After a few hours, your officemates gradually notice that the rubik’s cubes are missing. Greg appears to be mysteriously absent from work that day, and strangely enough, his door appears to be closed. Eventually, you slowly push it open to see a sight of the utmost inconceivable horror: Greg now lays scattered on the floor as a coating of super-fine bluish-grey dust.