. . . Next!

Positive affirmations aside, I was scared spinless. The triple tag ahead of me just got sheared, and there was a small dance of Ones as the shift occurred. The now amputated double-tagged molecule slipped neatly between the other triples that were lined up behind me. Spinless or not, there was nothing between me, my molecule and the same fate of separation.

As had happened when getting tagged, and when the chain of ringlets were disassembled into smaller segments, the landing area in the mesh was tuned to the now-different pitch of the triple tagged molecule. Guided by these harmonious forces, the natural fields of Electrons that often orbited the terminating Ones, were pulled and nudged expertly until the entire molecule fit securely in the receiving indentation in the meshwork.

Lined up side by side with dozens of other triple tagged molecules, it would not be long before the splitting took place. Orbiting the last structural Eight, I maintained my position in the outer shell with ruthlessness and aplomb, and kept adjusting my spin as needed to help. During the brief pauses as the spin flipped direction, I was amazed at how carefully I was able to sense the strain and distance of the bonds with the neighboring Fifteens.