Chapter 5
Aiden
This. Is. Crazy.
I hope Evie can’t tell just how freaked out I actually am. I’ve probably had more adrenaline pumped into me in the last hour than in the entire past year combined. I can’t even begin to unpack Dr. Little’s death and the part I played in it. Not to mention the predicament of my shrunken classmate who I’m holding in my hand like she’s a goddamn hamster. But I know that all pales in comparison to what this poor girl just went through. She looks so lost and afraid and I feel a sense of responsibility to keep it together in her stead.
But then again. The experience of having her willingly climb onto my hand is… something else.
I’m not wearing gloves this time so I can feel the tiny tickle of her fingers as she hesitantly reaches her arms out and touches me. I can sense the weight and temperature of her body as she clambers aboard. I can tell she’s trembling as she crawls away from the edges and kneels in the middle of my palm. Despite a part of me feeling incredibly stressed about the whole thing, another part of me is just as enchanted now as I was the first time I picked her up.
I gently lift her off the counter and it’s like holding a little bird, she’s so light and delicate and… and adorable. I feel a wave of guilt at having any kind of positive emotion from this when Evie still seems so freaked out. I slip my other hand under the first, cupping my fingers around her protectively.
“Is this okay?” I ask, trying to keep my hands as steady as I can. “You good?”
She’s looking a bit pale and is clearly trying to not look down. But after a moment of pause she glances up at me, tilting her neck back. “I’m good… Don’t drop me please.” And she actually manages a weak smile.
Maybe that was some feeble attempt at joking around, but I think it might be best to respond with sincerity right now. “I won’t. I’ve got you. So uh… I’ll give you a tour? You’ve already seen the kitchen. Right past here’s the living room…”
Holding Evie up near chest level, I begin slowly making my way around the apartment. The kitchen and living make up one big open area, with a couch and ottoman to one side, a desk near the window, a small bookshelf beside it. Coming off to the right side of the room is a nook containing a washer-dryer unit, with a door to my bedroom on one side and one to the bathroom on the other. My place isn’t particularly huge, but for her I’m sure it’s a very different story.
I keep glancing down at the tiny girl in my hands, trying really hard not to stare excessively. Thankfully she’s too busy looking around wide-eyed at everything to seemingly notice. It’s all feeling so surreal, like a very bizarre dream. I try to remember seeing her in class, back when she was just average human height.
She always sat by herself towards the back, though that didn’t keep her from looking attentive. I’d thought before of sitting next to her, not sure if she was shy or just preferred being on her own. Every once in a while I’d notice someone else talk to her, and she always seemed really friendly despite keeping to herself. But I already had a friend in the class and never got around to approaching her. She’d rarely linger after the lesson either, just pick up her things and march out of the classroom with a confident stride.
It’s so difficult to accept that this tiny person I’m holding is the same young woman I’d see in class… All the details just as I remember them but in miniature…
“You might wonder why I even have a desk in the other room since I clearly do all my homework in here,” I say as lightheartedly as I can when we get to the bedroom that’s littered with papers and textbooks. “Yeah, I don’t know either.”
That’s how I end my very short tour of the place. Evie hasn’t said a word during the entire thing and honestly things are feeling pretty awkward. Neither one of us knows how to handle the situation.
I’m having a hard time imagining what the coming days are going to look like. Even though she seemed so hesitant to get outside help - and I can understand why facing all of that might be intimidating - we’re going to need to do it eventually if we want to try and restore her, right? Assuming I don’t have a police officer show up at my door first because it was on record that I was in the room that caught fire.
I don’t know how long it’ll be until we face the outside world. But I figure at the very least we should take the rest of the afternoon to try to settle our nerves and form some kind of plan.
“So… I’m trying to think through how we want to do this,” I say as I step back into the living room, “I don’t want to just leave you stranded up somewhere, but I also don’t want to put you on the floor, that doesn’t seem safe. Or sanitary.” I should really give this place a good clean.
Evie says something quietly, too quiet for me to make out. Without thinking, I reflexively lift her up higher to hear her better, causing her to recoil and give me a fearful look. “Sorry,” I wince, pulling her back farther from my face again.
Good going, Aiden. Let’s just continue to traumatize her why don’t we.
“It’s hard to hear you sometimes,” I try to explain.
“N-no, it’s okay,” she says, projecting a little more. “Um, I was just agreeing… on maybe not the floor… But I mean, anywhere’s fine.”
“Okay, well… How about I set you on the ottoman for now? I’m just nervous putting you anywhere too high up.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
I make my way over to the nearby couch and begin to lower myself to the floor, which should be a simple maneuver and yet I feel a wave of anxiety as I do it… I’m so conscious of every little movement I’m making at this point. Once I’m kneeling down I shift both hands up to rest on the gray, rectangular ottoman in question. It’s not very big, maybe one by two feet, but again for Evie I’m sure it’s a very different experience. She crawls back off my hand, the tickling of it making my heart skip a beat, and I actually feel a little sad about how relieved she looks to be off of me and on more stable ground.
She gets to her feet and has to hold her arms out to maintain her balance on the plush fabric, making me second guess myself at the choice of furniture to put her on. Although her trying not to fall over like this is also really cute…
Stop. Staring. I tell myself, looking off to the side for a second. I really need to focus.
“C-can I get you anything?” I finally say, turning back to her. “Some water maybe?”
Evie has given up on trying to walk at this point and just sits on the ottoman cross-legged. “Actually, yeah. That would be great,” she says, remembering to speak up this time.
I head back to the kitchen, feeling admittedly nervous about leaving her by herself even if she’s still within my sights. Without even thinking I grab a glass from one of the cabinets and am about to fill it before it hits me that she can’t use it. Right. Smaller cup.
I start looking through the other cabinets and drawers for something I can use and instead I’m realizing just how many other things are no longer going to work either - forks, knives, plates… And it’s going to go beyond that. If she stays with me past today, where will she sleep? What will she wear? How will she bathe or brush her teeth or go to the bathroom? What about her belongings, wherever she was living before? What about her classes? Or the thousand other concerns I’m not even thinking about right now? My head is already spinning and I haven’t even been able to get her a simple glass of water.
I take a deep, steadying breath. My brain is scattered and keeps trying to take on too much at once. I need to focus on what’s right in front of me. Like… this measuring spoon. Yeah, this could work, actually.
I fill the teaspoon with a few drops of water and start heading back when I notice something else right in front of me. I’d forgotten about Dr. Little’s bag, laying on the floor by the front door. Hold on. What if there’s an antidote or something in here?!
Suddenly a man on a mission, I grab the briefcase and come back into the living room where Evie’s waiting patiently right where I left her. She notices the intent look on my face and seems a bit unnerved by it.
“Is everything okay?” she asks as I kneel on the floor and put the bag down.
I carefully set the measuring spoon onto the ottoman as I explain, “I just remembered, I grabbed this on the way out of the lab, it’s some of Dr. Little’s stuff…”
I zip open the briefcase, laying it out on the ground and taking in the array of stuff inside. Evie’s interest is piqued and she forgets about the water, scooting over to the edge of the ottoman to watch.
Trying not to rush, I go through everything in turn. There’s an unsettling amount of syringes, filled with what’s clearly labeled to be a variety of sedatives. There’s a small contraption of some kind, a metal box that looks to be the right size for Evie to fit inside. A carrying case maybe? Though when I pick it up there’s a slight sloshing sound that seems to be coming from its walls - I’m not sure what to make of it and just set it on the ottoman near my little classmate. There are a few tiny outfits that look more like hospital gowns. There’s also a ziplock bag with a huge variety of miniature items, too small and too numerous for me to make sense of right away, and I put these on the ottoman too.
I don’t see anything that is an obvious cure for being shrunk. I really shouldn’t be surprised, especially with all the machinery it took to reduce things down in the first place, but it’s disappointing nonetheless. There is a journal, though, and I pick this up last. Evie’s watching me intently as I take a quick glance through.
“Looks like it’s some of his notes,” I tell her as I flip the pages, “I’ll see if I can find any clues in here…”
“Alright. I’ll look through some of this other stuff.” She’s already struggling to access the ziplock bag, and I’m about to reach over to help when she finally pries it open.
“Is that a toothbrush?” I ask, leaning in to squint at the first thing she pulls out.
“Looks like he was really prepared for… something,” she adds with a grim tone.
“Well, at least some of this might help us in the short run,” I say as I get up to sit on the couch, notebook in hand. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
And this is how we spend the next part of the afternoon. At first there’s lingering tension in the air, the both of us still recovering from all of the previous excitement. But as the minutes eventually become hours in the relative quiet, we’re finally beginning to relax somewhat.
These notes were definitely not anything official, and they’re really hard to decipher. Some pages he just used as scratch paper, littering them with equations and nonsensical thoughts. At some point the focus switches to the experiments he ran, just offhanded observations on the large variety of items that he shrank down. I’m thinking most of the items that Evie is going through are the results of said experiments.
I still can’t help occasionally glancing at the shrunken girl before me. I tell myself that I’m just watching over her, making sure she’s safe up on her perch. But I can’t deny the fluttering in my stomach whenever I look over. I just want to observe every detail… Her industrious mannerisms as she parses through the miniatures. The way she has to scoop water into her hands to take a drink from the measuring spoon. The expressions on her little face, overwhelmed but also quite focused on the task at hand. Everything about her is just so tiny and cute and… enticing.
Focus, I tell myself, every time.
At one point, I come across something in the journal that at least looks familiar - a sketch of a schematic with some notes on how it works. I realize it matches the little metal box that had been in the bag too.
“So…” I interrupt the silence as quietly as I can but still manage to make Evie flinch. “Apparently this thing’s supposed to be a miniature bathroom,” I say, pointing at the box that’s still on the ottoman.
She stands to approach the chamber curiously and I lean in as well. There’s a door in the front that she pulls open, cautiously taking a step to peer inside. I don’t quite see what she’s doing as she carefully explores the apparatus, but suddenly there’s a whooshing sound from within. It only lasts a second or two and it’s not very loud, to me at least, but it makes her yell and suddenly pull her arm back, taking several fearful steps in reverse.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Y-yes. That’ll take some getting used to,” she answers, staring at her new bathroom. “Still…” she adds with a weak attempt at laughter, “Better than trying to use a normal toilet I guess.”
That’s true. One less item on our very, very long list of things to worry about. The fact that this device even exists is a little disconcerting, though. Hammering in the fact that Evie would not have been restored to her normal stature anytime soon.
I take a second to glance at what she’s been working on, sorting all of these tiny items into sections, lined up neatly in each group. I’m recognizing things from what I’ve been seeing in the notebook - plastic bottles, various fruit, a towel, a basketball, I even notice the chair that I had personally seen shrink down. They’re not all tailored to her size, a strange amalgamation of items at all different scales.
Evie notices where I’m looking and addresses me, “I do think there’s some stuff here that might come in handy, but most of it’s so random. I’m guessing this was all of the earlier experiments? Not sure if this is any kind of clue, but it looks like most of it’s made of wood or cloth or plastic.”
“Right, so I do know a little bit on how the machine worked…” I say, at this point looking for any excuse to talk to her and escape the cramped handwriting of Dr. Little’s pen. “It used some sort of solution that he vaporized into a gas. That’s what would alter the size of the subject topically.”
“Topically?” She looks up at me with a furrowed brow. “I figured it was whatever I was breathing in there, but it worked by touch?”
“Yeah, that’s how your clothes got smaller too. It doesn’t affect metal or glass, though, which is what the testing chamber was made of.”
“That explains why I couldn’t wear jewelry or anything metal…”
“Yup,” I say with a nod. It somehow feels productive to tell her the little that I know about the technology behind this. But it’s not. I’m not really doing anything to solve the problem, since it’s not like I actually understand how any of this works.
We return to our tasks - I dog-ear the page about the mini bathroom so that I can refer back to how it works later, and then I go back to squinting at the messy handwriting. Time continues to drag and I’m not finding anything else that’s particularly relevant in the notebook.
That is, until I reach the end of it. Then I find way more than I had bargained for.