The gross and net result of it is that people who spent most of their natural lives riding iron bicycles over the rocky roadsteads get their personalities mixed up with the personalities of their bicycle as a result of the interchanging of the atoms of each of them and you would be surprised at the number of people in these parts who nearly are half people and half bicycles. They go on to discuss percentages: apparently the postman, due to the nature of his job which involves much bicycle-riding, is a full 71% bicycle. This also means that his bicycle is 71% human. When it gets to this stage, the bicycle will start sneaking inside to sit by the fire, and food will start disappearing. "If you let it go too far it will be the end of everything," says the Sergeant. "You would have bicycles wanting votes and they would get seats on the County Council."
Must look into whether expatriates exchange atoms with planes. Surely they do with each subsequent location.
