Welcome to the Environmental Protection Agency, or as it seems, the most well-protected secret in Washington, D.C. A recent impromptu tour of the EPA headquarters unveils a peculiar sight: a ghost town of sorts, echoing through halls meant to be bustling with the engines of environmental defense. Picture this: rows of offices with doors ajar, lights dimmed to a serene glow, and the unmistakable vibe of emptiness with the occasional dead plant to add a dash of decor.

In this journey through the corridors of power, one spot caught the eye. Humor aside, one must question why such direct lines are necessary when the villains of pollution seem to have taken a break. Heck, even the plants seem to have given up.

In the three hours spent wandering this labyrinth of fiscal responsibility, the overwhelming thought is: where is everybody? Offices stretch endlessly, but the faces are missing. It’s as if the workforce has been granted an invisible cloak, generously funded by taxpayers. This is a place where desks are maintained with a keen sense of absence, and perhaps clean air is better preserved by lack of human presence.

The EPA should be leading the charge against today’s numerous environmental challenges, yet the stillness suggests otherwise. Imagine running a marathon, except the athletes are imaginary. The environmental warriors seem to have taken an indefinite coffee break, making one wonder whether they’re saving themselves from pollution by staying out of the office.

Walking through this workplace enigma, the typical bureaucratic bloat is on full display. It’s the kind of show that gets the green light—an office auditorium of empty seats and energy-saving lights. It’s the government office of tomorrow, where less is more, especially when it comes to people. This peek inside speaks volumes louder than any policy paper. Here’s hoping someone answers the elusive call soon, before even the ghosts decide to clock out.