And even then, with all the parallel worlding and superimposed thoughtforms, Henry found he couldn't sit still for one second, as if spikes were coming in from all directions, as if he found himself a unique Dick Tracy moment when the world caved in from every direction.
He tired to run.
Henry tried to move one eye before the other, hoping to trick reality into coalescing again. From one, Nicole seemed impossibly far away; from the other impossibly near, as if she understood everything in an evernow moment of supreme Silvikrin clarity.
A toss of her hair.
There was a shift in thoughtform. Where once Henry had been a smiling cow of a man, forever following alongside, propped up against hedgerows and fence posts, digging at the neighbours' neighbours, wise-cracking and cud-chewing, now... things were altered. Nicole's swish had transformed him - "You're like totally Hurting..." she said, thinking of new ways to watch Altered States on videodisc now the old player was catapulated - into the face of a kappa, a bowing malevolence about the mouth and eyes and a Gap-headed sundrome that wouldn't let up, no matter what.