Down went Ford on his hands and knees, improbably alive, sifting through the still-steaming heap of his organs like a dog questing through the tall grass for a lost toy. He raised his liver to me, his heart, the desiccated sac of his stomach, his kidneys in succession. Then at last, the long coils of his intestine, which he nuzzled with his cheek, moaning. He had the soft dull eyes of a cow, like something that had never been taught to speak.
