She attempted a definition of dissolution and then eased herself back into the mainstream by repeatedly jamming at the delete button on her computer until even the vowels were gone, thus re-configuring several belief systems and at least one self-appointed arbiter of taste.
Several themes later, Georgia finally opened her mouth and the expected (yawn) string of nanobots poured out and set to work. Her backing band got it first, each turned into a perfect Georgia clone within minutes.
Interestingly, the hands were the last to go.
The dancers threw a few hopeful shapes but many never even attempted to get out of the way. Like Julian said: "They loved her too much." Stuart and Sandra, both trapped by 70s names and the general hilarity that followed alliteration in Pop, jumped in with both feet and were last seen bonded together as the nanobots sucked their teeth from their skulls and replaced them with Georgia's crooked smile.
The room dissolved into hysterical blindness. Fleshbumps followed. Then an almost mystical stillness as the bodies settled into their new shells.
Everything was going according to plan until some idiot opened the windows.