Science fiction -- Periodicals; Science fiction, American -- Periodicals
She was saying now, "When Polter moves, it is dizzying. You'll see."
"I have already, Babs. Heavens, that swoop!"
The room was more level now. We carefully drew ourselves to the front
lattice. Polter was standing, and we had the white sheen from his
shirt-front. A sheer drop was outside the bars, but looking down I
could see the outlines of his body with the huge spread of the boat
interior underneath us.
A confusion of rumbling voices sounded. Blurred giant shapes were
outside. The room jolted and swayed as the boat landed and Polter
disembarked.
Babs stood clinging to me. Blessed normality of size! We, at least,
were normal--this metal barred room, Babs and I. But outside was the
abnormality of largeness. I think that in relation to us, the men were
of over two hundred foot stature, and the hunched Polter a trifle
less. It seemed as he walked that we were lurching at least a hundred
and fifty feet above the ground.
"You had better hide," Babs urged. "He might stop and speak to
someone. If anyone peered in here you would be seen: no chance then,
even to get across the room."
* * * * *
It was true. But for a few moments I lingered, though I could
distinguish vegetation on their flat roof-tops, as though
flower-gardens were laid there.
We passed a house with its hundred-foot oval windows all aglow with
light. Music floated out--a distant blare of musical sounds, and the
ribald laughter of giant voices. I had seen no women among these
giants of the islands. But now a huge face was at one of the ovals. A
dissolute, painted woman of Earth, staring out at Polter as he passed.
It was like the enormous close-up image on a large motion picture
screen. She shouted a ribald jest as he went by.
"George, please go back. Suppose she had seen you?"
We were ascending a hill. A distance ahead a great oblong building
loomed like a giant's palace, which indeed it was. We headed for it,
passed through a vast arching doorway into the greater dimness of an
echoing interior. I scurried back across the lurching room and again
wedged myself under the couch. Babs stood at the lattice ten feet
away. We dared to talk in low tones; the rumbling voices and footsteps
outside would make our tiny voices inaudible to Polter.
I was tense with my plans. I had told them to Babs. With the one
partially used remaining pellet of the diminishing drug we could make
ourselves small enough to walk out through the bars. Then my black
vial of the enlarging chemicals, as yet unused, would take us up, out
to our own world. We could not use the drugs now. But the chance might
come when Polter would set the cage on the ground, or somewhere so
that we might climb down from it, with a chance to hide and get large
before we were discovered. I would fight our way upward; all I needed
was a fair start in size.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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