[for Olive] They're gonna make it if they try
The jukebox is playing my song again.
That's not as inspiring and motivational as it may sound. See, the jukebox has decided that my song is the theme to the long-cancelled MTV show Clone High, a cartoon that really is not all that funny to me, now. It makes entering the rec room a little awkward, since I never know if it's going to start up or not. I certainly can't run out of the room every time it fires it up, because that would be awful suspicious, but even so, there's a chance someone's going to notice a correlation.
I figure if anyone actually brings it up, I'll say it has some other personal significance, maybe I used to watch it with my dad or something.
But for now, it just means I'm stuck hanging around the rec room long enough not to be noted as dashing out the moment it declares that secret government employees dug up famous guys and ladies and made amusing genetic copies, and that said clones are currently sexy teens. Thanks, Clone High theme song. Thanks.
I'm tuning it out by reading a Palaeontology text. It's pretty interesting, especially when you consider that they were basing all of their work on fossil evidence, solving puzzles and applying all kinds of intellectual rigor to the process, because they'd never see a dinosaur to confirm, never get that Alan Grant moment of seeing them behave like he said. And not just because a lot of the stuff that was in Jurassic Park has since been debunked, not to mention the things that were known to be wrong then but made it in anyway.
Actually, given how this place works, maybe Dr Grant would find this place confirming his theories nonetheless. It might be plucking dinosaurs out of the Jurassic Park universe, who knows. It'd explain why they're coping with an environment considerably different to that of 65 million years ago, for one.
Luckily, I'm distracted before I can panic about them changing genders and breeding by a shift in the musical backing. I look up, realizing only as I do that I've shifted on the couch such that I have my legs resting and hung over on the back as if it were the seat, which I am lying against, as if my personal gravity was at 90 degrees to the rest of the world. I have to watch that kind of thing, although I'm more concerned with this song, which-
I've got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine...
"Ech," I say. Worst song ever.
That's not as inspiring and motivational as it may sound. See, the jukebox has decided that my song is the theme to the long-cancelled MTV show Clone High, a cartoon that really is not all that funny to me, now. It makes entering the rec room a little awkward, since I never know if it's going to start up or not. I certainly can't run out of the room every time it fires it up, because that would be awful suspicious, but even so, there's a chance someone's going to notice a correlation.
I figure if anyone actually brings it up, I'll say it has some other personal significance, maybe I used to watch it with my dad or something.
But for now, it just means I'm stuck hanging around the rec room long enough not to be noted as dashing out the moment it declares that secret government employees dug up famous guys and ladies and made amusing genetic copies, and that said clones are currently sexy teens. Thanks, Clone High theme song. Thanks.
I'm tuning it out by reading a Palaeontology text. It's pretty interesting, especially when you consider that they were basing all of their work on fossil evidence, solving puzzles and applying all kinds of intellectual rigor to the process, because they'd never see a dinosaur to confirm, never get that Alan Grant moment of seeing them behave like he said. And not just because a lot of the stuff that was in Jurassic Park has since been debunked, not to mention the things that were known to be wrong then but made it in anyway.
Actually, given how this place works, maybe Dr Grant would find this place confirming his theories nonetheless. It might be plucking dinosaurs out of the Jurassic Park universe, who knows. It'd explain why they're coping with an environment considerably different to that of 65 million years ago, for one.
Luckily, I'm distracted before I can panic about them changing genders and breeding by a shift in the musical backing. I look up, realizing only as I do that I've shifted on the couch such that I have my legs resting and hung over on the back as if it were the seat, which I am lying against, as if my personal gravity was at 90 degrees to the rest of the world. I have to watch that kind of thing, although I'm more concerned with this song, which-
I've got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine...
"Ech," I say. Worst song ever.