Once it loses the reproductive point, sex explodes beyond the human and its proper desires. Coded into two discrete sexes and defined by their reproductive organs, human bodies also "imply a multiplicity of molecular combinations bringing into play not only the man in the woman and the woman in the man, but the relation of each to the animal, the plant, etc.: a thousand tiny sexes." Every unified body conceals a crowd: "inside every solitary living creature is a swarm of non-creature things." Even the most unified of individuals is intimately bound up with networks which take it past its own borderlines, seething with vast populations of inorganic life whose replications disrupt even the most perverse anthropocentric notions of what it is to have either a sex or sex itself.

Bound and subjected to the formality of organic integrity, such molecular activities do little to disrupt the sense of security and fixation on a centralized self. "As long as they do not threaten him, and thus force him to define his positions in relation to them, he enjoys their fluidity and ease of movement." It can even be luxurious. and it is certainly not difficult, to conceive of oneself as a multiplicitous and shifting complexity. This is the familiar position of the postmodern theorist notorious for an impressive intellectual grasp of an instability which has never required him to lose control. But he doesn't always have the choice: "sometimes the reach a point where even a semblance of orientation becomes impossible." It's not quite so easy and amusing then. And as Elias Canetti points out, if it gets to the stage at which "everything round him is fluid and transitory he naturally begins to feel very uncomfortable himself."

Not that it really matters whether or not he ever knows about the vast populations of inorganic life, the "thousand tiny sexes" which are coursing through his veins with a promiscuity of which he cannot conceive. He's the one who misses out. Fails to adapt. Can't see the point of his sexuality. Those who believe in their own organic integrity are all too human for the future Ada lived. She loved the microbes long before he knew they were even there. "Do you know it is to me quite delightful to have a frame so susceptible that it is an experimental laboratory always about me, & inseparable from me."