12 comments/ 35464 views/ 8 favorites Girl Who Came Shrinkwrapped By: MarciaR Adapted from the short story: HE WHO SHRANK by Henry Hasse First Published in the August, 1936 issue of Amazing Stories * * * * * Girl Who Came Shrinkwrapped Removing my headphones and putting them around my neck, he then tilted back my head and lowered my jaw. It was not working well enough yet to close it. Cupping me beneath my chin and holding the back of my head, he then started to draw me forward. I prepared to receive a cock. "Wait a minute," he muttered, suddenly distraught. "What the fuck are you doing!" Releasing me and fumbling himself back inside, I thought for a moment he had reconsidered--then I learned the truth. "Damned fool! You're small enough to begin with. You want to make it smaller?" He had only halted because putting it in my mouth would have subjected it to the effects of the field. I wanted to laugh, but the paralysis would not let me. Putting the headphones back on my ears, the Professor hurried away and made some final preparations. His face was red, and he kept cutting me looks from the corners of his eyes. I could almost have enjoyed being raped in the mouth, if getting raped would have gotten him too. When I was two feet tall, the Professor removed my lab coat and raised my blouse over my head, then removed my brassiere. "A little trophy," he said, putting my brand new Victoria's Secret brassiere into his coat pocket. He then put my blouse back on (after first kissing my tiny little breasts) then put my arms back into my lab coat sleeves. He button the lab coat up. Then he picked my panties up from my ankles and ran them up my legs, snugging them into place. His grin said he had considered taking them also. I realized only then that whatever I wore, shrunk along with me. Another effect of the serum? Placing the headphones back on my ears, the professor got to his knees and checked the Walkman one last time. "I think you're ready," he said. Everything--the Professor, the tables, the walls--were gigantically out of proportion. Picking my up, the Professor set my on the table amidst a clutter of wires and apparatus. He began speaking again, and his voice was louder and very deep. "This is the Rehyllium-80," he said, patting the square block of metal, nearly half my height. "SinceRehyllium is so intensely dense, it will afford you a comparatively dense universe in which to explore. You may not think so when you first get there, not with the thousands of light-years between stars. But, even though I know no more about this universe than you, I strongly advise you to stay away from the brightest stars and approach only ones that seem comparable to our own. They have the best odds of inhabitable planets. Choose your worlds well." He was so big now he towered above me like a skyscraper. It felt like everything in the room, the Professor included, loomed. I felt very tiny, indeed. "Well, this is good-by," he said. "We won't see each other again. Even were I to try, I could never locate the same planets you choose, not out of all the trillions and trillions there are. Also, because your rate of shrinkage is so great--it needs some adjusting-- you won't be able to stay on any given world more than a few hours. Perhaps this is best. Anyway, good luck." He picked me up and placed me atop the smooth surface of the Rehyllium-80. I judged I must be about four inches tall. The paralysis was beginning to break up and I had movement in my face and neck. I could finally move my hand. I pulled it away from my still aching shoulder and, expanding my lungs, shouted out with all my might. "Professor! Professor, wait!" He bent over me. My voice must have sounded like the squeak of a mouse. "What about air? How do I live in the empty regions between stars?" "Don't worry," he answered. His voice was like thunder, and I struggled to get my hands up over my ears. Understanding, he spoke more softly this time. "You'll be quite safe," he went on. "In the thirty years I've worked on the problem, I wouldn't have overlooked so important a point. I will admit it had me stumped for some time. But as it turned out, 'Shrinx' solved the problem for me. It generates a field outward around the body for about six inches. That's why your clothes shrink as well, and also the headset. Somehow it captures gas molecules within this field and shrinks them at the same rate as you. Otherwise--" he gave a short laugh "--you couldn't breathe at all. Once you descend to microscopic size, the air molecules will be bigger than you." Helpful information, I thought. Remind me to not inhale anything bigger than I can swallow. Then I thought of something else I had almost swallowed and-- Cut it out, Joanna! You have more important things to consider! "What about the cold?" I yelled up. "And what do I eat?" He shook his massive head. He pulled away before speaking but I still felt his breath. It swirled all my clothes. "I've given you enough food and water for several days. It's in the backpack, Joanna. Use it wisely. As far as the cold of space, the field radiates a fair amount of heat by itself. While you're in your very large state, the molecules surrounding your body will insulate you well. There's nothing remotely massive enough, save maybe a Black Hole--and then only when you've become smaller--that could bleed them away. But keep your distance from anything out of the ordinary, Hesse, Black Holes included. Wouldn't do to have you sucked down one of those." No indeedy, I thought--you fucking cock bastard. Girl Who Came Shrinkwrapped Panicked, I began to dog-paddle like mad, realizing way too late that swimming no longer worked in my present size. I broke into a full Olympic style breast-stroke, pleading desperately with the planet to slow down; it drew inexorably farther away. I was about to erupt in tears when I suddenly discovered that I had picked up speed, and the retreating globe was no longer retreating, but stayed steady in size. Then I slowly began to catch up. Crying now in relief, I told myself it was the Hand of God, that only God could slow down a planet and make it wait, that only God could answer my prayers. Then I reasoned it that it was the steady pull of gravity that I actually felt, that the planet had "captured" me in its grip. This bit of deductive reasoning was a nice ego-inflator, but I continued praying nonetheless. I swam in closer, and the attraction became a steady and stronger pull. But I was falling too fast. Shuttling around so that my feet were behind me, I let them enter the atmosphere first. Then I drew them back. If I dropped in now, I'd be chest high in the atmosphere, still way too big. (Envision what massive earthquakes I'd cause.) Instead, I swam in place, a nominal distance away. Once I'd determined my height as about a quarter that of the atmosphere, I stopped my exertions, keeping my feet tucked. Hitting the upper atmosphere, I began to drag along, creating turbulence behind me. Coming in on a long, shallow arc, I put out my arms and legs and used them as rudders. I felt like a skydiver in free fall. Crossing over the equator and the large land mass below, I elected to pass it up, landing instead in the waters off shore. I might set off some pretty big waves, but it was better than stomping some poor town. Crossing the continents "western coast," I extended my legs, flapping like a giant baby bird. I touched down a hundred miles out, landing knee deep in water. I pin wheeled a moment, struggling to keep my balance, trying desperately not create waves. I wasn't entirely successful. Looking back at the inundated land, I felt a tremendous guilt; Please, I thought, let them have evacuated the coast. Three miles high, the planet's newest inhabitant began to wade ashore. Girl Who Came Shrinkwrapped Bypassing the cold outer planets for the ones nearer the sun, I leisurely stroked in to the sixth planet out. It looked entirely sheathed in ice. Dog-paddling to planet number five, I found this one more to my liking. With four medium-sized continents spread about its girth, and one giant continent at the south pole, it looked surprisingly like Earth. I chose the continent most like that of North America, and waited near to the planet's orbit for it's next pass. This time, anticipating the planet's speed, I got out in front and let it catch up to me. The maneuver worked well, for as the blue and green world began to approach, I matched it's orbital speed and waited in orbit. When about half the size of the moon--our moon; this planet had no moon of its own--I let myself sidle a little closer. When down to maybe ten miles tall, I let the planet grab me and pull me down. Making my way through the atmosphere like a surf boarder without a board, I made a perfect landing a hundred miles off the coast. I even remembered my shoes. Arriving some few minutes later at the eastern coast, I waded carefully ashore. Guarded by massive, vertical cliffs all along its length, the coastline was both formidable looking and barren. Nothing had dogged my footsteps as the "whales" had done on the gaseous people's planet, and seeing no life here, not even birds, made me concerned. Stepping carefully up onto the plateau, I stood among broken patches of vegetation and broken rock. I put back on my shoes. Perhaps a mile tall now, I looked over the same broken-forested landscape for miles and miles and miles. A wide yellow river wound sluggishly across the plateau, disappearing at the foot of a distant precipice, another plateau. Following the river's direction, if not its course, I made my way toward this formation. After a five minute walk and a loss of a few hundred feet, I found myself looking at a great green expanse of steaming, prehistoric jungle. I saw huge fern-like growths of shrub and sweltering swamps and cliffs. Not a breeze stirred and nowhere was there a sign of life. Wow, I thought. Discovery Channel time. Then I felt something watching. Standing near a towering cliff, I now saw a long row of caves just above a ledge, half way up the cliff's face. Even as I watched, a tiny figure emerged from one of the caves and moved cautiously out onto the ledge. It kept low to the ground, terrified, ready to flee at my slightest wrong move. Maybe any movement all. I stood there, staring back, feeling eerily like the Professor must have felt. When he didn't flee, and I didn't move, the figure was joined by others. They began to chatter and gesticulate with their hands, which looked vaguely human; I sensed that my appearance had inflamed their superstitious fears and now I was a god. Or a monstrosity sent by their gods to destroy them. Squat, heavily muscled and covered with hair--and these were the females--the creatures were obviously barbaric. Although still too small to distinguish their features, the creatures were four-limbed and stood erect; they all carried crude weapons. They looked like Neanderthals in the movies. Suddenly, one of them raised a bow as tall as himself and let fly a tiny arrow. It fell far short of my position, but the shot was enough to establish his place as leader of the pack and that I should fear his contempt and bravura. I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. I might be a half mile tall, and able to smash these things with one swat of my palm, but that wouldn't remain true long. I had better get out of here, I thought, or make friends fast. Raising my hands to show I meant no harm, I backed slowly away. The creatures went wild. Jumping up and down and gesticulation madly as the others screamed and yelled, the leader raised his bow and fired again. Huh? Suddenly the leader dropped flat and, shielding his eyes from the sun, scanned the jungle below. I began to comprehend. Evidently, a hunting party was out, and he was afraid I'd squash them flat. I feared I'd squash them flat also. Lifting my feet one at a time--comical looking, I'm sure, if the circumstances were different--I checked where I stood. No squashed little Neanderthals, thank God. Peering hard into the dank vegetation below--nearly impossible, with clouds of steam hanging low in the surrounding trees--I presently caught the faint sound of shouting. Appearing suddenly in a long single file, barbarian hunters ran at full speed along a well beaten path. They burst into the very clearing in which I stood, and skidding and sliding to a halt, started screaming in terror. Evidently, it was the first time they had seen me. Dropping the poles upon which they had strung the carcasses of the day's hunt, they fell flat to the ground and began to wail in terror as a group. All except one, who burst from the tangle of trees at just that instant, and despite seeing me, tried to rouse his friends. Yelling angry and guttural syllables and gesticulating wildly, he pointed back along the path. Then I heard it, a terrifying roar. Jesus Christ, I thought. That sounds like a fucking t-Rex! Reacting to the bellow, the Neanderthals scrambled to their feet and grabbed up their weapons off the ground. They forgot me as well, as well they should, and formed a defensive semi-circle facing the path. The monster roared again. As it happened, the limb of a very large tree overhung the path, and the party leader clambered up some overhanging vines and crouched low upon it. One of the warriors fastened a vine to a large, clumsy looking weapon, and the one in the tree drew it up. Consisting of a large pointed stake some eight feet long, with two heavy stones fastened at its waist, the leader took the weapon and carefully balanced it on the limb, directly over the path, pointed down. The remaining semi-circle of hunters crouched behind their lances, set at an angle in the ground. There was another loud, shuddering roar and if not having been an quarter of a mile high, I'd probably have run away. Suddenly, the beast appeared and I marveled all the more that the Neanderthals didn't run away. From ground to shoulder, the stood twenty feet tall, and was fully fifty feet long. Of obvious dinosaur descent, each of its front legs ended in a wide, horny claw that could have ripped any of the hunters to shreds. Its long tapering tail was horny as well, leaving the impression the thing was partly reptilian. It had curved fangs, two feet long. For a long moment the t-Rex just stood there, tail switching back and forth, eyes glaring in angry consternation at the semi-circle below. Then, as it tensed its mighty hind legs for the spring, the warrior on the tree limb above launched his weapon--launched it with himself attached! Feet pressed hard against the heavy stone balance, the warrior let out a shriek. Reacting with a speed I found unbelievable for its bulk, the t-Rex spun aside, and the pointed stake drove deep into the ground, sending its rider tumbling head over heels into the monster's right foot. The Neanderthal lay there stunned, waiting for the t-Rex to eat him. Which the t-Rex surely would. But, just as it raised it's massive head and prepared to finish the leader off, the rest of the hunting party sprang forward, emitting a warbling cry. The beast snapped forward again; it snarled in rage. Going low to the ground, the stunned Neanderthal momentarily forgotten, the t-Rex sprang forward and charged the group, the group's lances snapping ineffectively off its armored hide as the circle broke and fled for the trees. Three of them never made it. One was picked off in a flash by the monster's vicious jaws, while two others got cut down by its tail. All this happened in seconds. "What are you waiting for!" I yelled. Breaking my paralysis, I swung my hand down in huge flat arc just as the beast sprang for a second time. I caught it in mid air, smashing it hard against a tree Then I smashed it again as the monster scrambled to its feet, seeming to see me for the first time. Its final action was a snarl of rage as it stooped low and then sprang at my descending hand. I smashed it flat against the ground--I heard its bones break. The monster twitched not a muscle, lying dead as a dark red stain of blood oozed outward from beneath him. While I battled my suddenly rebellious stomach, the natives stopped in their tracks and jabbered noisily among themselves. They fearfully kept their distance, pointing both at me and at their flattened foe. Only the one who had plunged downward from the tree had seen exactly what happened; as he rose unsteadily, glaring half-contemptuously at the others, he slowly approached my feet. It must have taken a great deal of courage, for, crouched low as I was, I still towered above the tallest trees. He looked at me in reverent awe. Then, falling to his knees, he beat his head upon the ground several times, and the others followed suit. For an hour, I meandered back in the direction of the coast. I had done what each captain of the many Starship Enterprise's had done: broken the Prime Directive. I needed to think. When the natives finally got over their awe, they went to work on the carcass of the fallen beast. From their talk and their gestures, I gathered they wanted to take it back the caves; it would take a hundred of them to lift it. So, being the pushover that I am, I picked the thing up by its long scaly tail, and walked with it back to the cliff face. By now, my height was probably about six hundred feet, and the monster the size of a rat. I shuddered as though it were a rat. It dripped blood, and I wanted none getting on my shoes so I held it well out in front. Were there any present, I'm sure my friends would have laughed. I was the only human present. Placing the carcass on the ledge, I turned and walked away. I wanted no more interaction with these primitives than what I'd already had. I could well imagine the legends that would grow up around me. I wondered what strange cave drawings would be found on the walls of this cliff in another fifty thousand years. By then, a civilization would cover this entire globe: a civilization rising by slow degrees out of the muck and the mire and the myths of the dawn of time. And doubtlessly one of the myths would concern a great, god-like creature who had descended from the skies and had leveled great trees in its stride. And great men, great thinkers, of that future civilization would say: "Preposterous! A stupid myth." The sun was far over in the western sky and the shadows growing long. The atmosphere had a familiar orangish tinge to it and I felt immensely lonely again. I thought about Todd; I thought of my mother. I wondered who would call the police first. I was just on the verge of breaking into tears when I felt, rather than heard, a rush of wings above and behind me. I threw myself flat on the ground, and just in time, for the great shadowy shape of some huge creature swept down and sharp talons raked across my back. I looked up just in time to see the creature winging its way back low over the swamps. Its wing spread must have been forty feet. I got up and hurried back toward the coast, keeping a close watch behind me. Reaching the shore and their protective cliffs, I sat down to wait. I was my normal size. Then, deciding this was as good a time and place as any, I got up again and lowered my panties. I squat down over my shoes. I did what every girl dreads having to do in public and did it with nary a care. There was no one to watch me. As urine began to splatter against the fractured rocks, I brushed lightly at something in the dirt. I brushed at it some more. Then I pried it out of the earth and, with a mounting sense of alarm and dread, I saw the not quite visible outline of something level with the ground, something seemingly laid out in straight lines to form a rough box, something that I would swear was the outline of a house. Getting back to my feet and getting my panties in place, I swung around in a circle and then walked off the outline myself. It was a foundation all right, one made of concrete. The building it used to support was maybe thirty feet deep by sixty feet long, with a front porch stoop and the remains of a walk. I backed off fifty feet to consider. I looked back the way I had come. Fifty thousand years for civilization to advance and spread across the globe? Perhaps it already had. Perhaps fifty thousand years had passed since the last civilization ended and the new one had begun. Because what I had seen glinting in the long rays of the sun and had dug out of the earth, and what was now in my hand, was the time-worn remains of a coin. Most of the lettering was gone and the features were worn smooth, but enough remained of a face to see. The face of someone startlingly human-like. . .and female. Girl Who Came Shrinkwrapped "Fucking A!" I exclaimed. I waited for more, but no more came. The rest of the machinery toiled away. But they worked in conjunction, after all. Moving in closer to shore, I began to admire the efficiency of their design. No needless intricacies, no superfluous parts, only the bare essentials to do their jobs. If they needed to clear, they had scoops for clearing. Those needing to cut apart girders and beams, used giant shears. Those loading pieces of wreckage into giant off-loaders used multi-segmented arms. When they had finished with one pile of rubble they moved on to another, cutting and torching and shearing and hauling away. There was no sense of urgency, but every machine, from the tiniest man-sized midget to the largest, from the simplest to the most complex, had a certain task and performed it directly and completely. And then I saw the mills. And the output of the mills. They were making new machines. And the new machines went to work huge new bridges across rivers and ravines, leveling forests and obstructing hills, erecting strange, complicated towers a thousand feet high. And all the while the legion of destructors continued their fearsome work, feeding the mills with an endless procession of material to turn out new machines and raw product for their constructions. Construction of a vast new city of meaningless, towering, ugly shapes--a city covering hundreds of square miles between the mountains in the distance and the inland sea at my feet--a city of machines--ungainly, lifeless--yet purposeful, for what? "My, God," I said again."What have you done?" Striding north alongside the shore for perhaps a hundred miles, I came to sharp promontory of land. Rounding the point, I abruptly stopped. Before me stretched half a city of smooth white stone, towering and majestic, architecturally unflawed. Spacious parks were dotted here and there with colonnades and statues, and the buildings were so beautifully designed that they seemed poised for flight. The other half was a ruinous heap of shattered white stone, of buildings leveled to the ground by the machines, even then intent on reducing the rest of city to rubble. I watched in horror as scores of flame-cutting machines encircled the base of one of the tallest buildings remaining and began to cut away. Two of the ponderous gigantic cranes strode in from either side and began ripping chunks from the facade. A bevy of smaller machines moved in around their feet and began demolishing the broken stone. Within minutes, the great tower began to shake. Then it twisted gracefully to one side, buckled at the base, and began to fall. Then it came apart. It came apart in a shower of stone and steel and voluminous dust, the same as two buildings had come apart in New York City in 2001. It fell from five times as high and created five times as much dust, and for a very long time, there was nothing to see. Only the sound of its falling, echoing like thunder across the city. And the machines moved on. Sickened by it all, I waded ashore and began to demolish machines. Any machine. I stamped them and I kicked them and I batted them with my hands. I used the gigantic steam-shovel cranes as makeshift bats, swinging them against others of their own kind, grabbing up more when mine shattered. I destroyed every machine I could, for as long as I could, until I had to sit down in the rubble and cry. After a time, I went inland, looking for a place to shrink. What I had destroyed, the machines simply carted away and replaced They went on destroying the city as though nothing had happened. Fucking Borg, I thought. Reaching the foot of the mountains, I chose a likely looking pass and climbed up for a look. I was about half a mile tall. Beyond the divide, I found a vast plain of green dotted everywhere with the grotesque, machine-made towns. They had made good progress. There was nothing of the bird-people left at all. And then I saw it. Two hundred miles to my left was a great metal dome, rising machine-like out of the plain. Suspecting instantly what it was, I made my way in that direction, smashing everything I could. Nearing the dome, I found my way blocked by a now-formidable pair of the cranes. They were almost as tall as I. Kicking out viciously, I caught the one on my right on the joint of its left knee, and the thing collapsed. The other crane tried for my face with one of its pincer-like claws, but got my backpack instead. I let loose with a startling scream, swung around to my left, dragging the crane along. We both went down, but with me on the top. Continuing to scream, I ripped its shovel head right off of its neck. "Fucking A!" I screamed again, lofting the shovel as a prize. "Bring it on, baby!" Getting back to my feet, I found three more of the machines blocking my way; they proved no more challenge than the first, nor were the four that followed. Efficient construction equipment they might be, but they were certainly not soldiers. I stood before the dome, inspecting my cuts and bruises. "Open the fuck up!" I yelled. Then I saw an entrance to my left. Striding the forty or fifty yards, I found it to be not an entrance, but a partially enclosed hole; the dome was still under construction. Ducking low, I went inside. I almost touched the roof. "Son of a bitch," I said. I had hoped to find the head machine, the Mother of All Machines, Skynet Central. . .and I had done just that. The Machine was roughly circular in shape, with bewildering tiers and platforms and interconnecting tunnels; lights everywhere flashed and circuits hummed, with attendant machines buzzing and spinning and giving it care. "Welcome to Oz," I whispered. The Machine heard me and rumbled, "What do you want?" The Machine spoke English. "I want to tear your fucking head off," I said, circling around. "I want to tear off you head and shit down your fucking throat. I want to shove a two by four up your ass and call you a Pop sickle." The Machine digested this. It had no head or an ass and I wondered what part of it was vulnerable. Silly! I thought. None of it! I moved carefully forward, extending my hands. It may not have a head or an ass, but it sure had decorations. I'd start with them first. "Don't come any closer," it warned. "Try and stop me." Immediately, a square panel near the top shone bright green and I jumped to my right. Nothing happened. Then an odd sensation swept over me, a feeling of both envy and menace. It came from the machine. "Bullshit," I said. "You have to do better than that." I took a resolute step forward and a wall of crackling blue flame leapt from the floor to the ceiling and screaming, I jumped back. The hair on my face and arms and my hands was singed. If I had taken one more step. . . "You son of a bitch," I said shakily. Anger--and an emotion almost of sorrow--rolled off the machine in waves. The bright green panel continued to stare. Its circuits continued to buzz and humm. This needed something else, I thought. Going outside, I yanked arms and legs off the demolished cranes, then returned back inside. I stalked the Machine and menace tracked my every move. The Machine spoke: "I have something you need." "Need this," I said, flipping it the finger. Then I threw a massive steel arm at the green screen and ducked away. The arm exploded in an burst of light and cracking heat as the wall leapt up again but my second toss made it through. "Ah-ha!" I yelled as the badly twisted leg slammed hard into a corner of the screen and made it shatter. The wall of flame was fast, but not fast enough. It needed time to reset. "I can keep this up all day," I threatened. "Sooner or later I'll get something important." The Machine buzzed and it hummed. No more panels turned green. Firing one piece of twisted metal in after the other, I got three shots through and then I made my leap. It caught the machine by surprise. "No!" it caterwauled in a high-pitched falsetto as I jumped up high on the side and began yanking off parts. "Leave me alone!" Breaking into laughter at this absurdity, I yelled: "You fucking pig! I'll take you apart the same way you took apart those cities!" "You don't understand!" it screamed. "I have something you want!" Almost hysterical with rage, I tore out handfuls of conductors, volumes of wire, roomfuls and roomfuls of circuits and yelled at the top of my lungs: "What do I want? What could you possibly have that I want?" "The cure!" the Machine screamed. "I have the cure!" "The cure for what!" I screamed back. "For your shrinking!" I stopped my destruction. I jumped off the Machine. "What did you say?" I panted. "I have the cure for your shrinking!" Flaggergasted, I blubbered: "You do not!" "I do so!" "Prove it!" I yelled. From a tiny compartment low down in the side, a door slid back and a tongue extended. I squat down to inspect it. "What the hell is that?" I demanded. It was a metal box. "A cure for your shrinking," the Machine said again. Dumbfounded, not able to believe this, I said: "I don't believe you." The Machine explained. "Eighty thousand years ago, when the Thrimishon's first observed you--" "The what?" "The Thrimishons. The native creatures of this planet." "Go on." "Eighty thousand years ago, when the Thrimishon's fist observed you--" the Machine waited for me to interrupt again, and I didn't, continued. "They tried to understand what you were, and where you had come from. They could not at first, and spent ten millennia working on the answer. Finally, twelve hundred and eleven years ago, the Thrimishon created me. . .or my predecessor," the Machine corrected, "to work out the answer." "And did they?" I asked. The Machine said. "They did." "How do you speak my language?" I asked, thinking I already knew. "I, and my predecessors before me, formulated a procedure by which the Thrimishon could establish contact with you and foresee the Great Event." "Myself," I said. "Yourself." "They tapped into this," I said, tapping the set of headphones on my ears. "Yes," the Machine replied, "and by that method they ascertained your language and your manner of being, and what had brought you here to meet us." "I didn't come here to meet you," I said. "I just came by chance." "That I know," the Machine said. "The Thrimishon did not." I pondered this for a time. "So the Thrimishon, as you call them, considered me a god, a visitor from the universe above." "Yes," the Machine agreed. "But you didn't. The Machine, if it had had one, would have shook its head. "The Thrimishon spent thirty-thousand years and all their natural resources preparing for your arrival. They used me and my predecessors to implement and carry out their plans, and when the time grew near, decided collectively that I was no longer necessary to their plans." "So you took over," I said, eying the box. "Yes." "And waited for my arrival." "Yes." "And chased the bird-people away." The Machine hesitated. "The Thrimishon." "Yes." I suddenly understood. After thirty-thousand years of building graceful, enormous cities, making things perfect for the Arriving God's pleasure, the machines were suddenly extraneous, without purpose. When the Machine took over, it went back to doing what it did best, erecting cities, but without the underlying hopes and dreams and aspirations of the Thrimishon to guide it, it built from plans of its own. "This is unbelievable," I muttered. "Excuse me?" Laughing, I said: "So what's in the box?" "A reverse formulation of the 'Shrinx' serum." I shook my head. "How do I know that's true?" "You'll have to take my word." "Right," I said. But I was no longer in much of a position to argue. Maybe six hundred feet high, I could probably inflict a lot of cosmetic damage, but getting in a knockout punch. . .? "So what do I have to do to get it?" I asked. "Nothing." "Nothing?" "Just continue to shrink." Shrink and leave you to own the planet, I thought. "Yes." I took off the headphones and smashed them underfoot. I was two feet tall. Good to its word--could machines ever lie?--the Machine had directed two of its attendants to escort me outside. I walked with them back toward the mountains, steadily loosing height. Finally, one of the machines extended an enormous pitchfork-tipped arm and lifted me up. I rode on the arm, tight up against the body of the machine, watching the ground go by. Sealed in a container inside, resting inside a contoured piece of foam rubber, was a fluid filled bottle. The fluid, fluorescent red I was told, counteracted the Shrinx. Not an antidote, per se, but an exact opposite formulation. Anyone taking it, other than myself, would begin to grow. Arriving at a pleasant little meadow at the foot of the mountains, the pitch-fork wielding machine settled low to the ground and directed me to stand away. A panel opened in its side up and a tongue extended: on it sat the box. "Wait until you are the proper size," the machine directed. It sounded just like its boss. I realized that, for all intents and purposes, it was. Holding out a length of metal rod, which it drove a foot deep into the earth, the machine further instructed: "This is the height we have determined you were. Take the serum when you are approximately two inches taller than the staff. Alternately, you may take the serum at a later time, on another world of your choosing." I liked that idea better. "Thank you," I said. "Don't mention it." "I won't." Raising back to its full height, the machine and its companion departed, heading back toward the dome. I stood and watched them for a time, wondering alternately what was really in the box, and would it fucking work. I certainly prayed it would. I opened the box up. Inside was a fluid filled vial. The fluid was red. When the top of my head reached the top of the staff--I had pulled it up two inches--I hurriedly took out the flask and grasped it in my hands. "Shrink," I whispered. "Please!" For a few moments, the flask grew steadily larger, then began to shrink with me as well. I began to laugh and then I cried. Putting the flask deep inside my backpack, I climbed the grassy slope perhaps fifty yards and sat down on a rocky ledge. I looked out over the valley. In the reddening long rays of the sunset, the machine-cities looked almost attractive. Removing the backpack again, I took a sip of water and opened another Big Mac. Tiny lights appeared as the machines moved about, carrying on with their work. They never rested, I thought. Never rested, never loved, never had children. Their clattering and clanking drifting up from below made me desperately sad; I prayed to leave this place soon. I prayed for the Thrimishon. Mostly I prayed for myself. There was a flash of light. Beyond the dome housing the Machine, almost lost in the gloom, I saw a vast metalwork frame, supporting another dome. No, not a dome, but an immense sphere. There was intense activity around it. A vague apprehension tightened my gut and I anticipated what happened next. Standing up and shading my eyes against the sun, I watched as the immense silver ball rose lightly as a feather into the air--I felt a powerful thrum in the air--gained momentum as it gained altitude and disappeared from sight. The machines had achieved space travel.