"All technomedia ventures have the same structure," said Mr. Oda, 
bestirring himself for the first time in a while. By now a nice synergy had 
developed between band and crowd, and a lot of dancing was going on—some 
intimidatingly sophisticated stuff, and also some primal moshing. 
"Three-legged tripod." Oda held up a fist and began to extend fingers as he 
enumerated the same. Miranda noted that his fingers were gnarly and bent, as if 
they'd all been broken frequently. Mr. Oda was, perhaps, a veteran practitioner 
of certain martial arts now disdained by most Nipponese because of their 
lower-class provenance. "Leg number one: new technological idea. Mr. Beck. Leg 
number two: adequate financial backing. Mr. Oda. Leg number three: the 
artist."