This is how I move in four.

Retrograde thrusters jet me out of my mother's maw, spinning ion trails in her wake. Uncurling, I let myself breathe. Let the heat sink in from the engines until it suffuses every every vent and hollow, every wing- and weapon-tip, every flap and fold and quivering plate of metal and plastic that separates my brittle form from the not-me of space. Let every surface hum with heat until I am a star unto myself, radiant in my mother's shadow. Only then can I begin to spin, for the body is a child of the stars and light, and fire was never meant to dance cold.

My skin extends and flexes, surface locked into place by the heat. Joints fill their sockets. The inner gimbals whir, bracing against the chassis, until the w-ring finally catches with a snap and the rest of my body follows, catapulting me forwards into the wx-plane.

To the rest of the universe, to my mother's optical sensors, I've just turned myself inside-out. My appendages split into radial cross-sections, fragmenting into six, ten, twelve, twenty-four. Fold w into y: I'm an explosion in reverse, wingtips bursting against my burning core. Tweak w against z and I'm back again in full view, all seventy-two wings and spears and control surfaces flaring against space one after another, a sunburst of metal and plastic. Briefly, I'm bigger than my mother. Then the body is whole again, unscattered, altogether, as if it never parted at all.

Of course, I haven't changed, only spun. A shift in orientation along w to show more of me than 3-space expects, a trick of the angles only 4-space will permit. My adversaries will see me from all sides, or they will see me from none at all. The spun-up body is a ring of thorns, a swarm of blades, a burning stake pointed at the Enemy's heart; in this form I can pass through the eyes of needles and, in spinning, blot out the stars. This is my body, the Exotic Mobility Hyperbody Wukong, Zeta Tauri System's Unit 9, and this is how it dances, sweetheart: carbide-tipped fire in the sky.

Like fire, keep on dancing.

Like fire, keep them guessing.

Like fire, never, ever let them see the same face twice.