Andrew tries to kick, but there's only the whirring of wheels and a slight lurch as a few balls shift position under and around him. Reaching his arms out doesn't result in any greater success; indeed, he finds that he can only seem to move them at the shoulder, and that they stick stiffly out on front of him. On the surface, a few balls dip and roll in response to his flailing, but that and his frustrated mechanical grunts are the only signs that anything's happening. He stills again and looks around, the blue glow of his eyestalk a light in the relative darkness.

"...What?" he asks again forlornly.