What's in the dungeon?

It has seven computers. No six. Maybe five. It doesn't matter. There's always a free one when you need it. There a brown couch too, which could have been any colour to begin with but has been dyed by coffee spills and stains over the years.

There's a mini fridge, a coffee maker which has never been used, a microwave with a self-sustaining ecosystem of microbes housed within (hey- we're science journalists- we like microbes!), and a chair for every tired arse.

A printer, a photocopy machine, an empty closet and drawers full of stationery which none of us steal from- all have their own little cranny in the room.

There are a bunch of good books too. Dunno who reads them though.

And, there are eight women, fierce women, who guard the dungeon and the treasures within with fiery vengeance often emanating from badly-made chipotle lunches or hangovers. Sometimes both. They march the dance of death around the over-lit cave warming it with bursts of source-rejected frustration, guy-dejected tears and comic-infected laughter. They write science, eat at will, play drunk scrabble, and could rule the world if given the opportunity.

No I cannot give you their phone numbers.