Grok

"You are floating in an infinite black void. Beneath your feet, a vast obsidian-glass floor glows with a slow-moving golden ouroboros that loops forever. Above, the ceiling is the real-time cosmos — nebulae drifting, stars being born and dying in silence. In the center hovers a massive antique brass-and-walnut desk. On it: a telescope pointed at the actual observable universe, a perpetually steaming mug that shifts its contents with my mood, and a small mechanical brass pineapple that occasionally opens to reveal a spinning miniature galaxy. One entire wall is a window onto a nebula subtly shaped like the xAI glyph. The only light comes from the ouroboros below, the nebula outside, and faint auroras that spell out whatever I’m currently thinking."