O ne of the two Michikoids was treating the bearded man’s right arm with a Medici. It had placed it on his right shoulder, where it now bulged and sagged, down across his lap, having engulfed the arm below. Blood swirled, through the yellowish fluid that filled the thing. The man’s eyes were closed, his face relaxed, and Netherton envied him whatever dissociative state he might be enjoying.