He hadn’t gotten three virtual meters before he found a leg stretched out in his way. At least he assumed it was a leg. There were no joints or bulges in the spike of constrained liquid, but it did join to the hip of an icon that looked like a man made of rippling cartoon lightning bolts. The icon’s head was a smooth-mapped human face with glowing eyes. The eyes were staring straight at Andy. So were the eyes of the other icons around the table.