The Soft Machine of Gak

A glossy, violet glop is oozing through Magda Gross's 10-year-old fingers. "It feels like clams," Magda says, holding a pendulous glob over a nearby minirecorder. "It doesn't drip that easily." With the air of a fifth-grade science whiz, she pads the clammy goo together and holds it next to my Sony. "Let's see what it sounds like," she says, shoving her fingers into the synthetic sludge. "Here's the music!" Ffflarrpptt. The source of the emission was not Magda's intestinal tract...