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 buttons 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 death is intense as he crushes the ants

But there's a freedom there: there's no one to apologize to

Selective seratonin reuptake inhibitor