What began as a fun experience had quickly turned sour. I thought I had made it, that I held in my hand the invention of a lifetime. The possibilities were endless: imagine being able to change the shape and size of all things at will—One more step towards the singularity—I had foolishly thought. Yet now I wasn’t so sure. The only way to reach redemption would be to have someone else activate the machine with reverse parameters. But time grew ever shorter.

I don’t know what went wrong: when I tested the machine on inert matter, everything happened according to calculation: the objects had shrunk for a small while, only to then reach back their original size. A wave in the quantum fabric, if you like. What sort of obsession led me to try it on myself? I don’t think I’ll ever know. The only thing that stands true is that I found myself reducing by half every few moments. When I shrank down to ninety centimeters, it was all in a sort of good fun. I amused myself in the nostalgia of being the size I once was as a child. When again I shrank to forty-five centimeters, I grew slightly worried despite my confidence that the next time the process activated, everything would begin to reverse.

But then I warped down to twenty-two centimeters, barely taller than the mug I used every day for my coffee. I was stuck on my floor, with no way to reach the equipment. So, I suppose I did the only thing that came to mind: seek help. The front door of my house always had a small crook to it, typical of an old house from New England whose wood had a lifetime of work enacted upon it. It made it possible for me to squeeze through under it. It was at first difficult, the gap barely able to allow for my torso as I crawled… until I shrunk again: ten centimeters. Anyone’s hand would now be able to comfortably grab me. My heart sank, and I hurried.

Once outside, I wasn’t sure where to head first, until I saw her, leagues ahead past my yard and hers: Palmyra, my neighbor. She had just returned from some obligations, carrying large bags of groceries, and climbed her front porch. A young woman in her late twenties, strong of will, autonomous, and most of all inquisitive and intelligent. She might be able to understand my plight. I hurried.

Jumping down my porch was easy. After all, at my size, gravity was an entirely different game due to my reduced mass. A jump of what would have been a couple of floors felt like nothing. The feeling was shortly exhilarating, until the reality of my predicament returned. I looked at the Sun, kept my bearings, and entered the forest of grass.

I recognize I did not think much of the danger as I went, so focused I was on finding help as fast as possible. I did see some dog-sized ants on the way, but other than a slight inquisitive look, or so I thought, they ignored me. The world was different, alien even. Was this how the smaller life experienced the world daily on this planet? I ran, brushing against grass, for at least ten minutes. I saw large fences overhead, indicating I crossed my yard and into Palmyra’s. That’s when the feeling started anew, deep in my gut. My vision blurred, like a strange fog one might have after waking, and found myself at five and a half centimeters. I did not react, nor cry, but I would be lying if I told you my throat did not seize up in panic.

The ants from before became more like bear cubs to me in size. The grass now like large jungle trees. I had to hurry. The dirt of the soil was difficult to navigate: only at this size did I now notice they were like boulders. An agglomeration of biological matter. I knew that for now, if it was like walking on a beach of pebbles, it would soon be another matter, and I would be forever barred from reaching Palmyra. I fell a few times, but in the end, after a few scraps, I reached the first stair of her porch, I estimate fifteen minutes later. I was slightly too late, it seemed, and shrank again. One point five centimeters or 15 millimeters. The first step of the wooden porch was too high up, I had no skill for climbing. I fell on my knees, desperate.

I was about to despair, when I heard the rusted metallic sound of Palmyra’s front door open. The ground trembled around me, the large dirt rocks jumped, my body barely holding on, as steps approached. I looked up only to see a large, flat and leathery object pass overhead, before slamming down on the ground a few meters away, relative to my size, in front of me. Atop a ledge only slightly taller than me was a gargantuan heel: Palmyra’s foot in a sandal.

Before I could react, she brought her other foot forward, and continued on, marching onward to her parked automobile. It seemed she had forgotten something inside. My mind raced with ideas. I would have one chance, and one chance only: I would need to grab and climb on to her sole the moment she passed by. Throughout the day, people have a tendency to often repeat the same movements, the same routine. More often than not, people will climb stairs the exact same way, with the same foot put forward, at the same location. The soil in front of her stairs indicated as such: an area was slightly lower, from repeated steps. It was close enough. I rushed to it, and prepared myself. 

I stared at Palmyra some. What a beauty. From the first moment I saw her, I felt my heart flutter. I never took it further, because I suppose I had been cognizant she probably would not have reciprocated, from being too different, unalike. Yet she was always pleasant towards me. A sort of openness I did not see her have with others. Maybe it was always just some playful flirt, never to be acknowledged. Her long black hair, sun-kissed skin, defined face, fair and long limbs always carried a sort melody to it. And now I was at her mercy.

The door of the car was slammed shut and Palmyra on her way back. Every footstep a tremor to my form. Each one, closer and closer, like a meteor crashing down. I leaned down, not unlike one would before starting to run, ready to pounce. Her right foot and sandal crashed two relative meters in front of me. The gamble had paid off. As she moved her left foot to climb up her front stairs, in the two seconds it took her, I jumped the short distance, grabbing the imperfection of the leathery sole.

I felt air under me, my heart jumping into my throat as it lifted to the second stair. Surprisingly, I was able to keep my purchase as she placed her foot on the stair, lifting the other one. I took the moment to climb, reaching the top of the sole and sliding to a horizontal position. Palmyra’s foot size was incommensurate. This is what a human foot looks like to insects? Each toe was twice as large as my old house. Each ridge of her easily toeprints discernible, their width the size of my wrist it seemed.

Palmyra’s toes pressed down, her heel moving as I felt her move again and again. Every time I felt we had landed back down, I crawled forward as fast as I could, ever closer to one of her digits and away from the ledge of the sandal. I was halfway the distance between the ledge and her middle toe when I felt the effect again. I knew by instinct my new size: seven millimeters. If only she looked down, she would have seen me. I only would need to either pull or punch her toe for her to feel something.

The door of her house slammed, we were inside. Movement stopped for a while. I looked upward at Palmyra: she was going through some mail on a bureau by the entrance, rapidly flipping through the pile. This was it, this was my moment. I stood and ran to her toe, punching as hard as I could. Her skin was harder than I thought. It made sense, I suppose: skin is only soft because of the strength we can exert on it, otherwise, immovable, it is as hard as cement.

I swore, shaking my hand in pain. I saw her toe lift, only for the entire foot to disappear as she pulled it back out from her sandal. I followed it with my eyes, desperate. Palmyra simply scratched the tip of her toe, without even looking down, still reading whatever mail she was holding, nary an emotion on her face. She put it back down, and pulled her other foot away from the sandal, before turning and heading out to another room.

It dawned on me that I had forgotten Palmyra’s habit of walking around barefoot. Not only because she had her floor and house in impeccable order, but also in order to keep it that way. A habit I could have taken from her. A curse left my lips. Immediately, I ran after her as fast as I could, jumping down the end of the sandal’s sole with ease. I hoped dearly Palmyra was somewhere I could reach her. I was halfway to the entrance of her living room, when again the feeling of shrinking passed through my body, eliciting shivers. The process was accelerating. I couldn’t believe it: three and a half millimeters. The meter left to attain the entrance of her living room looked as long as a kilometer. A flat and long expanse. Breath was leaving me, unable to pursue. I arrived at the frame of the door, the wooden floor seemingly unending, dust like small boulders to me now.

Palmyra was there, standing, reading a message on her phone, leaning against the side of the doorframe. Her foot was around two hundred relative meters away. I picked up the pace, rapidly approaching the monolith. How tall must she have been to me? Her height was indescribable. Perhaps almost a kilometer. Her head would have been above a lower cloud line had she been relatively that height and I normal. I arrived behind the heel… and shrank again. One and half millimeter. A tenth of a centimeter. The back of her foot grew before me, becoming all encompassing for my vision. I could discern things about her I never dreamt of seeing. She had some dry skin, but very little, creating a vast vertical plateau. Vast wrinkles provided a path I could walk on, like a crease on the side of a large mountain. To reach the first one, I had no choice but to try wall climbing. At this size, the skin looked like a small uneven wall, made of flakes. It was easy enough to find a purchase and lift myself.

Unlucky for me, the heel is notoriously with slightly less sensation. Or at least it was for her. I had reached the first crease, and lay on my back. I looked up, defeated, as the ridge grew away from me, the top of the wrinkle further, my size diminishing anew. I stayed there, unmoving for a few minutes, only for the process to repeat. Less than half a millimeter now. 

Please notice me, Palmyra!