"I almost gave up when you hung up, Doctor Wilson, but then I remembered a simple law of mathematics. No matter how often you divide a thing, there's still something left. So I went ahead with the preparation for my survival. And a good thing, too. It's not yet six o'clock, and I estimate I am now only a quarter of an inch tall."

"But everything is now arranged. In the center of the Petri dish on the microscope stage is a prepared slide complete with slip cover and label. The only thing lacking is the specimen, and that is me. If I become so small that I am in danger of being lost in the Petri dish, I will make my way to the exact center of the slide and take up a position there. You should be able to see me for some time to come because I focused the microscope. All you have to do, Doctor Wilson, is look -- just look to see me."

"My world is such a different place now. Books are as huge as buildings and pencils seem like telephone poles. I wonder what my world will look like if no one ever finds me."

"Oh, yes, Doctor Wilson, the slide under the microscope is labeled carefully. Of all the slides I've labeled in my lifetime, I hardly thought the last one might become my epitaph. Specimen: Jane Richardson; Species: Homo Sapiens; Condition: Excellent."

Her thoughts are interrupted by a sound of wings overhead. A titanic parakeet swoop near.

"Oh, Doctor Pasteur! Haven't you flown the coop yet? Is your loyalty so great that you refuse to leave so long as the last particle of me remains?"

She ponders for a moment.

". . . . or are you hungry?"

"Gods, what an ugly monster you are when viewed from this perspective. Your feathers are like scales of armor, infested with lice, I see. And that beak!"

The monster moves slightly closer, chattering loudly and pecking at the desk

"No! No, Doctor Pasteur! No! Stay away!"

"Wait. Wait. I must back up slowly. Don't run. Slow. Back between the books and the microphone. Slowly.. . . slowly"

She slips into a nook between two gargantuan text books next to the microphone.

"Now! I'm safe here ... until he loses interest. I should have let him starve to death in his cage."
 
"I wonder if the tape's still recording? I can see the spools still turning, high above me, the clear plastic reflecting the last rays of the sun setting outside my window. But I can't see if there's tape."

She yells at the top of her lungs. "Are you still there?! Am I recording, Doctor Wilson?! This is Jane Richardson! As soon as that bird loses interest, I'm going to make a break for it!"

"I'll make the microscope, Doctor Wilson, don't you worry! Treat that slide marked 'Jane Richardson' just like it was me! You understand? Even if you don't think I'm in it!"

"If you can't bring me back, publish my thesis for me! You hear me, Doctor Wilson?! Publish my thesis! I can't die smaller than dust. unknown! I have nothing left, Doctor Wilson! Not even my body! Give me my thesis!

She stops with a gasp, a dark realization crossing her face.

"You wouldn't dare publish it in your name, Doctor Wilson, would you?! All you'd have to do is change the name on the title page! You wouldn't stoop that low, would you?! No, no! Give me my thesis, Doctor Wilson! Give me that much! Do you hear me?

Am I recording? Give me immortality, Doctor Wilson! I want the world to know I lived! Publish the thesis in my name! Do you hear me, Doctor Wilson?! Give me immort--"

A massive beak descends from the heavens. Tiny doctor Jane Richardson is devoured instantly, the parakeet fluttering away. . . .