Mad scientist sits at his desk
Tries to decide which building should face east and which west
Allergic to the hive, the hive is giving him hives
He's an ant architect, a meteorologist of mood swings and other things which shouldn't be measured
If the brain is the engine and the heart is the carburetor, and the legs are made of rubber and the spine is made of pipe cleaners we can build our own people in any way we choose
We can push our own bu*tons like adolescent gods
We can bask in the glow of the new synthetic sun
The casket you know is the most comfortable one
We can suture the future shut like a cut
We can build epic structures
Copulate and populate
We can suture the future shut like a cut
We can replicate structures which replicate us
Deaf-mut in a leisure suit who, try as he might, fails nightly
Fails miserably
Buys a colony from the back of a magazine, plays simulated city with real living things
His fear of d**h is intense as he crushes the ants
But there's a freedom there: there's no one to apologize to
Selective seratonin reuptake inhibitor