Please join me in congratulating <NAME> on <TIME> years at <COMPANY>! Mr. <NAME> presides over <DEPARTMENT> operations, working with his team to ensure platform stability and performance. That is quite an accomplishment, <NAME>. Indeed, there are whispers that far darker forces are at work. That late at night a hooded figure can be seen moving from server rack to server rack in our datacenters, leaving burnt offerings and the telltale scent of brimstone in the wake of his vigil. It is said if you trail behind this stealthy form and listen closely you hear the murmurs of a long dead tongue, a droning chant to stir otherworldly entities and malign forces into wakefulness, whence they take up their vigil over the machines.
This says nothing of sanguine fluids that interminably leak from these infernal constructs, nor how they glow a baleful green and stink of rotting flesh. The buzzing of flies greets the arrival of each new query, and the wailing of damned issues from any server unfortunate enough to connect to these corrupted devices. Standing in their presence overlong erodes one’s sanity, until all that remains is the mortal husk where once a human being stood. The conscious mind destroyed by whatever dark arts and foul magic are at play in these fetid pits of debasement. These are less datacenters than cathedrals to the profane. Unholy places that rot the souls of humankind and bend them to malign purpose.
Of course, no one would go so far as to implicate you in any of this. We are merely the vessels for all of this madness. Hollowed out to be used up in search of uptime. We are supplicants to the cause, and eagerly complete our toil in the name of this incomprehensible evil. Though, one does wonder if you can account for your whereabouts when the whisperer in the dark makes his rounds, turning all to serve his foul intent.