i think it was at page 178 when i checked out, mentally. 
 nerve fibers twitched, yanked the legs from nanobots, hurled others into flesh walls. what seemed like meters m-sub became mere inches m-sub as the spasm contracted nerve and wracked muscle. 
 vincent sent both his biots, half-crippled, but not dead just yet, no definitely not dead, straight into the confused mass of nanobots, plowed bodily into them with all the speed they could manage and kept thrashing ahead, dragging the microphages with them, scraping them off in the tangle of thrashing titanium. 
 the biots erupted through the platoons of nanobots that now added the goo of microphages to their difficulty unraveling themselves. 
 yeah, it turns out i am not a fan of sci-fi even when it is YA sci-fi. 
 but this is just me - for people who have a better head for nanotechnology and innerspace-like adventures - this is your book. it is just not my book. 
 like i really need a book reminding me about all the stuff living on my skin and in my eyebrows, feasting heartily on my dead skin cells. 
 no, i do not. the close-up descriptions of what is happening "in the meat" made me quite ill. i needed a good scrub, way more than i did after reading fifty shades of gray. i frequently became itchy reading this book, and i am terrified that i have been infested with tiny bots. i am never touching anyone or anything again. i am constructing a bubble as we speak. 
 this is definitely a plot-driven book - that characters have only the barest development, and many of them are not even given closure in this book, i suppose paving the way for a sequel. to my underdeveloped science-mind, it was confusing, and there weren't any characters to hold onto for grounding. but for those of you who are better than i am at visualizing book-action and like a lot of gross-out images - here's a book for you! 
 that is all. i need a shower.