From “Anatevka,” from “Fiddler on the Roof.” (And I’m laying odds that someone else parodied it—it seems so obvious, but my inspiration is low this morning.)
What did I leave? Nothing good.
Only Anasigma
Anasigma, Anasigma.
Horrible, villainous Anasigma
Where else could science be so mad?
Anasigma, Anasigma.
Devious, monstrous Anasigma,
Where I know all the bosses are bad.
Soon I’ll be returning with the Skin Horse crowd,
Hoping for a giant mushroom cloud
In Anasigma
I belong to Anasigma,
Devilish, terrible Anasigma.
Corporate hellhole, cubicle of mine.
Heh. In the last week I’ve listened to a podcast about a new album (as of last year) of the lyricist of Fiddler, he’s 90. And our local music theater company is doing a production of Fiddler, we were supposed to go to a matinée yesterday but it didn’t work out.
I sure hope the axolotls haven’t been breeding in there all this time.
Is this the same facility, or did they move him to another one?
It just occurred to me that they might have put in multiple axolotl colonies in different buildings. I withdraw the question.
…He’s going to sacrifice himself isn’t he?
he might be leading them down the best possible future
There might also be a “big reveal” included.
Not the male version of Unity? Oh no!
Please let there be something more reasonable, like a mini black hole, or an army of genies.
I wonder if we’re going to get a tie-in to the mirror’d-Unity-verse in there.
From “Anatevka,” from “Fiddler on the Roof.” (And I’m laying odds that someone else parodied it—it seems so obvious, but my inspiration is low this morning.)
What did I leave? Nothing good.
Only Anasigma
Anasigma, Anasigma.
Horrible, villainous Anasigma
Where else could science be so mad?
Anasigma, Anasigma.
Devious, monstrous Anasigma,
Where I know all the bosses are bad.
Soon I’ll be returning with the Skin Horse crowd,
Hoping for a giant mushroom cloud
In Anasigma
I belong to Anasigma,
Devilish, terrible Anasigma.
Corporate hellhole, cubicle of mine.
Heh. In the last week I’ve listened to a podcast about a new album (as of last year) of the lyricist of Fiddler, he’s 90. And our local music theater company is doing a production of Fiddler, we were supposed to go to a matinée yesterday but it didn’t work out.
He could be hoping into an alternate universe.
Maybe a cloning facility? Screw dental records, lets get a dead body that’s me down to the DNA!
Maybe he’s a Vegetable clone already? He got out because he’s not made of meat?
I’m not too fussed what happens. Universe, cloning, whatever. They’re back together, on a mission, and it’s gonna be good.
Luckily, all of the defenses were designed to keep people from leaving, and won’t stop them from entering.
You have just described a trap.
Or a Roach Motel.
Which is a trap.