Dr. Thorpe: It looks like an executive porn star.
Zack: This is a final stage ganguro, before she slips free of her flesh and becomes one with the oversoul.
Dr. Thorpe: Her tongue is lolling out of her mouth. Soon it will fall to the ground, a wet and wriggling vestige of her former body.
Zack: She no longer needs bronzer or decoration, her skin has been stained the color of a drowned corpse and her glittering facial applications are now actual gems that her body secretes from trapped dust like pearls.
Dr. Thorpe: In the next few days she'll be like Jeff Goldblum in The Fly, ripping pieces of her flesh off and discarding them, becoming something greater than human. Ganguro pupation is disgusting and fascinating at once, like sea slugs mating.
Zack: The mass-conciousness of the ganguro who have gone before her into the shifting oversoul are a buzzing at the periphery of all her senses.
Dr. Thorpe: Soon she will stand as an empty, brittle, leather shell, frozen forever in the peace sign position.
Zack: Like a picture in the files of a Manatca observation team, only poisonous to the touch, a warning to those who dare to tread on the streets ruled by the ganguro. Beyond her body she will no longer be tan. She will be the tan.
Dr. Thorpe: One day the tan will spread to all continents of the world, and we will all be in the horrible grip of the ganguro hive-mind, sucking the essential oils out of those we once loved.
Zack: When enough of them pass on, when the great ganguro reaches critical mass, no one and nothing can stop them. Not all of the agents of The Manatca. Not even the soft-voiced majesty of Etro and his bearded host.