What year is it? WHAT YEAR IS IT? 2010? What? Where are the robots and flying cars? Okay, so I was just in some kind of crazy 1993 where there were extradimensional robot crabs and tonnes of bullets and holy shit. Okay yeah. I’ll have a Tab. Is that what you guys drink now? Rad. Do you still say rad?
Anyway I was just in 1993 and everything was run by robot crabs and they commanded legions of cyborg guys and security systems. I was in this lab and every time I went anywhere things would like, fold, and smell like brie and then there would be robots and I’d have to waste them all and then more would come. And these doors would open and I’d have to waste even more of them at it was like the crabs knew I was coming or some shit, I don’t even know.
There were all these computer surveillance videos of scientists messing around with teleporters and then BAM, crustacean hell on earth. I don’t even know what to do. Look, I know you don’t believe me, look though. There, that’s my birth certificate, 1968. There is no way I’m 40 right now. Look at me! I’m telling you the truth, look I’ve got these pictures. I DON’T CARE IF THE WHITE BALANCE IS OFF, LISTEN TO ME.
I fought my way through this and every time I thought it was done for a computer terminal would do some kind of crazy future surgery and get me back up again. I have a theory: I think they just put me through this crazy robot maze to send me a message. I don’t think these crabs want to scour the world, sucking up every last resource to rebuild their exoskeletons with bioengineered flesh and steel. I think they’re miserable. So look, I’m gonna change the course of history. Or maybe I already did. Maybe this means you listened to me.
Here’s the message from Commander Cobain of the Earth First resistance group. He wrote it down. You gotta remember.
DO NOT FISH IN ALASKA.