Designing the more than human is a little bit like playing pool. The balls on the table are a topology, a network of sequenced relationships. There is no single target at which to aim but rather a stretchy network of hard and absorptive surfaces. The game is played like a chain reaction with multiple branching possibilities that change after every shot. And yet with every shot, the most constructive thing that can be done is to increase the chances for more shots—generate more branches in the network of possibilities, more information. Then there is also the matter of touch, which can’t easily be described, but only understood by doing it. Pool is only a reminder of all the things that can change when a body, with all of its sentience and force fields, brushes against the air. It can be a matter of deliberate speed and impact, coming from hands through the cue stick and out to the ball. But sometimes it is a matter of English—the spin placed on the cue ball that is later transferred to another. English is an advanced technique that can’t be predicted, but it can be exploited. It is less about the intention of the shooter and more about something between the moving solids outside the human skin. The player who can continue to set up potentials and options can play the table longer. It is something like being too smart to be right.