The spasms weren't getting any better. They weren't naturally occurring, per se, but the result of the sheer OH SHIT of finding himself implanted into an entire plastic body, some parts wobbly and other parts rigid. He was going to have to calm down, because there was no easy way to inject something that might cut off the movement. His stomach wasn't really a stomach, just a nutrient tank that had to be filled once every two weeks. He was going to have to calm down. Acute plastic shock -- one of those things, waking up in the morning with plastic eyes that fluttered up like a doll's, a tongue that tasted nothing (except the merest hint of texture).