Back at the Office...

Emory walked into the director's office and cleared his throat. The director stopped drumming his desk with the eraser end of his pencils. He looked at Emory and smiled.
"Yes Emory, how can I help you today?" the director said.
"Director Daizen, sir, are you okay?" said Emory.
"Why yes, whatever would suggest that I wasn't?" said the director. He put the pencils back inside a small cup filled with more sharpened pencils.
"Well sir, we seemed to have gotten this odd email from you sir," Emory said. He handed the email to him.
Daizen looked at the email and laughed.
"Oh this email, ah, it's nothing at all Emory, nothing to worry about at all," said Daizen. He handed Emory back the email and touched the mouse at the end of his desk. His flat screen came back to life.
"Sir, this isn't like anything you've ever sent us before. The entire office received this, not just me," Emory said.
"Oh dear. Well, I guess I should explain shouldn't I?" Daizen said.
"I think that might be appropriate sir," said Emory. He sat down in the chair facing the director.
"Do you know what graceful degradation is Emory?" Daizen asked. He clasped his hands together like banker would when pitching CDs to investors.
"Yes sir, it is the process by which a system can continue to function despite having some of its components not working," Emory said.
"Good boy, you deserve a treat you do. But not now, despite that fine exegesis, for now you have a job to do. Tell me, did that email cause anything strange to happen?"
"Why no sir, nothing at all," Emory said.
"No pain in the frontal lobes? No splitting headache?" Daizen said. He leaned back in his chair like a comic book evil genius would; hands steepled together.
"I did get a headache sir, quite painful," Emory said.
"Ah, then you are the one. Let's wait another minute and we'll have another join you in partnership," said Daizen.
Emory sat and looked down at his beaten brown shoes...