The only obstacle in the routine was its longevity, the sole factor that tested Duval’s will power to accomplish the task that day, no delays. Retrieve a subject, escort to her office, physical check-up, mental health interview, return to the terrarium, repeat. It was plain and simple, but when cycled over the course of forty subjects and each session lasting roughly ten minutes per person, the hours dragged on until collapsing from boredom was a real threat. The mess such an incident would make was worth fearing, at least from the perspectives of her shrunken subjects.

A hardy yawn concluded, dispelling more of what little spirit Duval had left. She groaned into her complaint, but she would not say it aloud, that once upon a time, this job was promised to be exciting and lively. Shoote Labs was on the forefront of amazing scientific advances, the envy of every aspiring scientist looking to break into radical new fields of research -- for a cost. Duval had been bought in, but the glamor that was proposed to her had faded over the years. The opportunity to work with shrunken people and to explore the benefits of that lifestyle were appealing when presented in a company theater highlighting the best and grandest qualities of the project. Yet, it was only earlier that year that Duval was actually working with shrunken subjects, and beyond the initial shock and awe, the job had only grown tedious and mundane.

Shrunken people, Duval had learned, were no different from regular people. Their lives were curated to be stress-free, and so everyday was another moment in paradise, as far as she was concerned. Tests and other experiments would occasionally provide peeks towards the destination Shoote Labs aimed for, but her career was far from shattering the world like she had hoped. Duval followed the motions of her job and applied herself as loyally as ever, but very little sparked that fiery curiosity she once had to unravel a mystery that eluded her.

“... and so that’s why I think I haven’t been drinking enough water,” Kendall said, wrapping up a long ramble she had spilled to Duval when asked about her health. “But at the same time, I feel like I’m drinking too much.”

“Mhmm…” Duval replied with a dull nod. Her eyes were not aimed down at her desk, not where a tiny human talked to her from, but were instead at her monitor, dully skimming a spreadsheet of data in order to find the next name on the list.

“They say you can never have too much water,” Kendall chuckled, “but then tell that to someone who’s drowning.”

“Mhmm… Yeah…”

“When I was a kid, my uncle almost drowned in a river accident. It’s not like how it appears in the movies--”

Duval’s hand dropped onto the desk with a bang, falling from where it had supported her chin against fatigue. The weight of her hand striking the counter was enough to bounce Kendall into the air, a shock so sudden that she landed perfectly back on her feet. Duval’s patience had faltered, she could withstand the conversation no longer with how boring it was -- but her expression had quickly shifted to that of an apology, admitting to a mistake. Duval was flustered by her act, while Kendall was startled stiff, her hands tightly clamped in front of her chest.

“I-I’m sorry, m-my hand slipped!” Duval explained, taking the hand in question away. “I-I didn’t mean to slam it like that! Are, err, you okay? Kendall?”

Kendall choked up the courage to speak up, still shaken by the quake that had run through the desk. “Yeah, y-yes,” she replied, “I’m fine… J-Just a bit loud. Haha…”

“Hah… Yes…” Duval swallowed and nervously scratched at her neck, pursuing some sort of distraction. She bit her lip, annoyed with herself -- I can’t be this careless, she told herself, no matter how tired I get. Every little thing I do…

That phrase echoed in Duval’s mind, stirring memories of when she first accepted the project. It was a warning, one she took to heart right away. Her heart felt hollow after what her minor slip had caused, spooking Kendall so terribly. She wanted to offer her hands as comfort, to act as a reassuring shield or offer some support to lean on, but she hesitated when she tried, deciding instead to grab something else. It was a pod, about the size and shape of a golf ball, the transparency of which allowed view of a singular seat and its many buckles and straps. It was the single-person transportation device designed for moving individual shrunken subjects. It had been used to bring Kendall into the office, and it would be used to see her out, like all the others.

“Well, I… I think that wraps up everything,” Duval chuckled, trying to hurry the interview along by setting the device up to Kendall. Opening the landing legs to stabilize the pod and then undoing the front hatch was like operating a plastic toy, but the device was undoubtedly more than that to Kendall. “I appreciate the cooperation. I can’t go into details right now, but the results will determine if you get accepted into a series of future tests. I’ll let you know if you’ve been selected, of course~”

Kendall entered the pod and began strapping herself in. “Sure, but, should I drink more or less water?”

Duval withheld a sigh. “... Just drink if you’re thirsty.” Leaving no room for a reply, Duval closed the hatch shut. After Kendall was fully buckled in, Duval lifted the pod and held it steady in front of her abdomen with both hands. She exited her office with an inhale; she needed the energy to last her for just a few more interviews, but there was something to look forward to. If nothing else, interviewing Sierra would provide a change of pace from the monotonous conveyor belt routine.

The terrarium felt different when Duval looked over the miniature neighborhood, expecting not just any shrunken person, but Sierra specifically. She found her in the center of the community, awaiting to be escorted next after Kendall. Duval smiled upon seeing her, uplifted from her work-induced slump and presenting herself more brightly to any other subjects that were out and about. Sierra could be pointed out from the other tiny faces, not because she stood out from a crowd -- she was actually quite plain-looking -- but because of Duval’s familiarity with her.

Duval blinked, having said nothing once reaching the caged community. Kendall had become a blank in her mind until that moment, where she then rushed to move the procedure along. “Sierra! You’re next,” she greeted, recovering some of her professional aura. The pod was quickly put down inside so that Kendall could depart, leaving the hatch open for Sierra nearby. “Do you need any help getting in?”

Sierra shook her head wide enough for the gesture to be seen, though Duval was especially perceptive, able to glimpse a small smile from the subject. “I’m totally fine now,” Sierra called up, taking the first step into the pod. Before hunching forward to settle into the leather seat, she first stretched and flexed her arm for Duval to witness, the same arm that had been injured weeks ago. “I’ve almost forgotten I ever hurt it in the first place. It’s no trouble now.”

Duval giggled at Sierra’s arm curls. “Whoaaa,” she calmly exclaimed, “you should warn someone before pulling out a gun!” Sierra shared the amusement with a laugh of her own as she finished strapping herself in. A tiny thumbs-up confirmed she was ready for lift-off, and so Duval closed the hatch with a finger and scooped the pod into her gloved hand. The initial rise out of the neighborhood was steady and straight like an elevator, but the experience was its own as soon as horizontal movement began, with Duval turning away to leave for her office.

As a precaution, the pod was enveloped by both hands as Duval trekked through the empty halls of Shoote Labs. It was a safety measure that left Sierra, or any occupant, surrounded in darkness until their destination was reached, and Duval disagreed that it was necessary. She chose to smudge her memory and bring the pod up to eye level as she walked, unveiling the rider when her left hand was removed.

Sierra was blinded by the light and Duval’s huge face, welcomed by a smile that widened with her surprised reaction. “Duval?” she asked, her fists clenching at the belts over her shoulders. “Um… hi?”

Duval giggled, feeling silly then for peering into the pod. “I thought you might enjoy some light,” she explained. “I won’t drop you, don’t worry!”

Sierra nonetheless nervously chuckled. “I didn’t think you would,” she replied, “until you… said that.” She craned her neck forward as to gaze down the bottom of the pod, past its clear shell and down to the floor. Duval’s steps thundered down below across a tiled plain that sped past like a stream.

It was easy for Duval to read that worried expression. “It would take a real miracle for you to get hurt in there,” she said, her words hinted with some pride. “These pods are designed to withstand an eight-foot drop without injuring anyone inside. It would take at least three-hundred pounds of weight to break it open, too.”

“Oh… Good,” Sierra acknowledged, yet her tone quaked. “That’s… better than if I fell without it. I’d probably still get bounced around, though.”

“Mm, probably~” The humor Duval found was lost on Sierra, a difference in their perspectives. Duval trusted Shoote technology, but the same could not be said of the shrunken woman making use of the product. She had to admit, however, that such security was not meant to be tested; though the body inside added almost no weight, the pod had become heavier by the time she arrived at her office.

The physical examination was underway soon after Sierra was released from the pod. The usual measurements were taken, putting the shrunken woman under a modified microscope for the utmost accuracy. Duval checked her heart rate and breathing, both before and after a minute-long jog on a tiny treadmill. The entire process went by smoothly, due in part to their familiarity with these personalized procedures. Amidst their casual conversation, Duval remarked on their check-ups from the past, when Sierra’s arm was still healing, to which Sierra replied that she had been thinking exactly the same.

Duval inputted the results onto her computer, updating a list of statistics that had been tracked since the test began. Reading Sierra’s extensive list of updates carried Duval through time, recollecting those check-ups and how far Sierra had come. Some harsh memories clashed with the good, a few careless mistakes that had not been repeated since, but her experiences shared with Sierra had developed a bond that she couldn’t simply ignore.

Studying the spreadsheet, however, had alerted Duval of a conundrum. It was an obscure problem hidden behind a horizon, but that distance veiled the issue and its potential. Her once elated expression to have Sierra nearby had soured into a serious stare, realizing that the numbers of the physical report were not averaging out how she had hoped.

The weight of little eyes focused on her was enough to pull Duval out of her trance. She glanced down for the first time in a minute, noticing that Sierra was staring hard up at her. “Oh! Y-Yes, sorry I-- I got… distracted.”

Sierra offered a smile, but her concern had not been entirely cleansed. “I can tell. Is everything okay?” she wondered, leaning onto the upper edge of Duval’s keyboard. “It isn’t-- Is it my results? From the exam just now? They weren’t low, were they?”

Duval started to nod, but then shook her head with a bitten lip. “S-Sort of, no…” It was difficult to explain, a matter that was meant to stay secret for the sake of genuine results. The uncomfortable future ahead should have been accepted as reality if true, but when such a tiny face filled with so much worry was perched at her keyboard, Duval hesitated to leave her questions unresolved. For now, some explanation would have to leak, “This data is being collected for a selection process. If you’re not eligible, well… nothing really changes. You’d stay here, while I… go away. F-For just awhile.”

Sierra flinched underneath Duval’s discontent smile. “Ah, I… I see, but… where are you going?” She laughed, thinking that a detail too important to skip, but her fingers tapped along the keyboard anxiously. “And for how long?”

“I-It would take about a week,” Duval answered, beginning with the easiest question. What else Sierra had inquired of, however, was what she had hoped wouldn’t be asked. She twiddled with a thread of hair, her gaze drifting back towards the numbers on screen. “We’ll be going-- err, I’ll be going to a conference, to showcase how far the experiment has advanced, alongside other Shoote scientists. We’re looking to bring subjects that are both ideal to display and capable of traveling out of state.”

The smile Duval had developed was hidden behind a hand, ashamed to feel optimistic about the upcoming event while breaking the news to Sierra. However, Sierra’s response was unabashed cheer; “That’s exciting! This whole project-thing is really moving along! And you’re going to be presenting it?”

Duval chuckled, “N-No! I’ll just be aiding things mostly. But, I will have to stand in front of a lot of people -- a lot of important people. Top-level scientists and huge investors, cherry-picked for a special presentation about shrinking people and the subsequent lifestyle. Every single word said on stage can mean a difference of millions of dollars in funding…”

“That’s… stressful,” Sierra said plainly, still reckoning with such a dense explanation.

“Fortunately, it won’t all be serious business,” Duval continued. “The venue is a massive hotel. There’s going to be parties all throughout the event, so I’ll have a few opportunities to relax a little. I’m worried I might have too much fun, knowing how I am…”

Sierra giggled, though she restrained her volume as to not come off as mocking. Of course she remembered the combination of Duval and alcohol. “Sounds fancy,” she commented. “What about, uh… the others? The subjects, I mean. What would we-- er, they be doing?”

“... Not much,” Duval admitted with a slight shrug. “Besides the presentation itself, you all would most likely be kept sealed in a vault. Somewhere safe, but cozy! Probably another terrarium in another miniature neighborhood.” Though the details were lackluster, Duval pushed for the positives. “You’d get to travel, though! I can’t imagine you all enjoy being cooped up in the same place, doing the same things, everyday.” She glanced at the windowless walls of her office, cramped with what little furniture she could afford to fit in. “I would want a change of pace at some point, at least.”

Sierra’s shoulders fell until her hands slipped off the keyboard’s edge. “I guess that’s all,” she said. “I suppose that makes sense, there isn’t much for shrunken people to do at a hotel.”

Duval swallowed, withdrawing any more negative details of the experience. “Y-You also get to be with… me,” she added. “It’s a week I’d be gone, and maybe more, too. Someone else would take over as overseer, of course, b-but… I’m the best overseer, aren’t I?” She smiled cockily, emphasizing her exaggeration. “No one else runs this show quite like I do.”

Sierra was warmed into laughter, but was still burdened by these facts. Duval strongly sympathized, not wanting to leave Sierra -- It’s just a week, she told herself, and then you’d return home to everyone. Yet, the prospect of “everyone” did not lighten her thoughts, not the same way it meant to return for Sierra’s sake.

Sierra backed away from the keyboard, forcing up a smile. “You definitely deserve a break, Duval,” she said, “even if you’ll technically still be working. Besides, I shouldn’t get my hopes up. After all…” She looked up to the monitor, which hung overhead like a jumbo television in a bustling city. Though the numbers were unclear to her from her perspective, she could imagine the lackluster scores of her results, and how that tarnished her chances of traveling.

Duval frowned as she studied the spreadsheet, leaning onto her desk with her elbows. “Well, you’re not totally out of the running, you know,” she said. “Even with your, uh, low performance, you could get selected if you’re deemed well enough to travel. That’s what the mental health interview is conducted to check. The… interview that we haven’t done, yet.”

Sierra was back to leaning on the keyboard, drawn towards the implication she heard. “And… I assume you weren’t supposed to tell me that…?”

Duval bit her lip. She shook her head, fighting back a smile as she clicked open a window. “But… we intend to answer honestly… right?” Duval winked, stoking the hope within Sierra. “So! Um… Question one! … Have you ever suffered from motion sickness before being shrunk?”

Sierra’s smile slowly spread to each cheek. She scoffed lightly, then composed herself for a very serious and real answer, “Never.”

The interview then progressed, but not without bouts of laughter shared in between each question. The process was irrecoverably untangled, neither party able to take the interview seriously. Sierra met every question with the best possible reply, so on the nose that Duval had to tone down the responses, afraid her supervisor could become suspicious. Though they could laugh about it now, Duval knew deep down how serious of an offense this was to the company’s integrity. She risked severe punishment for staggering the results and potentially jeopardizing the upcoming showcase -- only the most capable subjects were to be selected, not Duval’s favorites.

And that is what Sierra was to Duval -- a favorite. She could no longer deny that among all the shrunken subjects under her domain, this one woman ignited a unique flare of her curiosity. She was reminded of that particular check-up, a mishap of an evening where she arrived drunk to the meeting. In the daze it all had been, the emotional impact still lingered, so many thoughts admitted while so many others pushed away. It was to maintain the proper, clean relationship between researcher and subject -- sterile. It was supposed to feel flat, there was never supposed to be a spark of any kind. A job, nothing else.

That two-dimensional life, Duval realized, was not what she had dreamed of having. Science was an adventure of discoveries, and her spirit yearned to voyage past these barriers. Sierra, a tiny being that could confess to such wild passions, had inspired Duval to loosen the collar on her neck -- where it wouldn’t hurt anyone, at least.

“”There’s something quite interesting I could show you,” Duval said. “I shouldn’t… but I could…”

The interview had reached its biased conclusion. Both were assured that Sierra had a fair chance now at being selected, and in the aftermath of the interview, calm conversation took over. Duval’s proposal, purposefully meant to intrigue her, had overtaken the topic Sierra was last on. “... Oh?” Sierra giggled, “Are you going to tell me more? Or, should you not?”

Duval stifled a giggle so she could explain, “It has to do with the showcase, and something our engineers have prepared. It’s… cute. I think it’s cute.”

“What is it?” Sierra laughed. “Now I really want to know. It isn’t embarrassing, is it?”

“Well… I’m sure you can guess that all of the model furniture and things have to come from somewhere. That’s a lot of what our engineers do. For this showcase, we had a lot of tiny things made to impress investors with -- so we made a model city.”

Sierra shook her head in disbelief. “A-An entire shrunken city?”

“Hah~ Well, it’s very bare bones at the moment. A lot of props and stand-ins. None of the buildings are furnished, nothing has even been painted yet, last I saw. It won’t matter, they’re just for stage dressing. Everyone will be focused on where the actual shrunken people are. Very focused…”

A shiver fell from these words and passed onto Sierra. “How is that going to work? Are investors just going to walk around us on the floor?”

“No, no. It’s all very safe.” Duval rose from her chair and donned her white lab coat. She then rolled the transportation pod along her desk until it was rightside-up and available for Sierra. Her giddiness could hardly be contained, but she limited herself to a whisper, “Get on in and I’ll show you. We’ll be quick -- we have to be.”