Science fiction -- Periodicals; Science fiction, American -- Periodicals
They mounted to the platform. It seemed to me that they must have been
far away; they were very small. Abnormally small. I blinked. Horror
surged over me. Their figures were dwindling as they stood there!
Polter was saying something to the man at the microscope. Other men
were nearby, watching. All normal, save Polter and Babs. A moment
passed. Polter was standing by the chair in which the man at the
microscope was sitting. And Polter's head barely reached its seat!
Babs was clinging to him, now. Another moment. They were both little
figures down by the chair-leg. Then they began walking with swaying
steps toward the tiny railing of the white slab. The white reflection
from the slab plainly illumined then. Polter's arm was around Babs. I
had not realized how small they were until I saw Polter lift the rope
of the four-inch little fence, and he and Babs stooped and walked
under it. The fragment of quartz lay a foot from them in the center of
the white surface. They walked unsteadily toward it. But soon they
were running.
My horrified senses whirled. Then abruptly I felt something touch my
face! Alan and I were lying in shadow. No one had noticed my writhing
movements, and Alan was still in drugged unconsciousness. Something
tiny and light and soundless as a butterfly wing brushed my face! I
jerked my head aside. On the floor, within six inches of my eyes, I
saw the tiny figure of a girl an inch high! She stood, with a warning
gesture to her lips--a human girl in a filmy flowing drapery. Long
pale golden tresses lay on her white shoulders; her face, small as my
little fingernail, colorful as a miniature painted upon ivory, was so
close to my eyes that I could see her expression--warning me not to
move.
There was a faint glow of light on the floor where she stood, but in a
moment she moved out of it. Then I felt her brush against the back of
my head. My ear was near the ground. A tiny warm hand touched my
ear-lobe; clung to it. A tiny voice sounded in my ear.
"Please do not move your head! You might kill me!"
There was a pause. I held myself rigid. Then the tiny voice came
again.
"I am Glora, a friend. I have the drug! I will help you!"
CHAPTER III
_The Fight in the Shrinking Dome Room_
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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