Size Matters
The surface
is smooth, slightly concave upward, and bears two sets of parallel
grooves that are normal to one another. The surface extends beyond
the limit of visibility in all directions. It smells faintly of hot
metal. On the surface lies a human figure, face down, clothed in
faded dirty jeans and a torn white t-shirt.
*
* *
I woke up face down on the ground. I hate it when
that happens. At least, I thought I was lying on the ground; when I
pried my eyes open I realized that I was somewhere much stranger than
that. I sat up, rubbed my eyes vigorously, and looked again. Yep,
just as I’d first thought, I was on a smooth featureless plain. The
“sky” above was dark. I got up and started walking. After about
15 minutes I came to a trench. It looked like it was about 10 feet
deep and had a “v”-shaped cross section, as though it had been
made with a sharp axe. There was no way I could get across it, so I
turned to the left and started walking again.
30 minutes later I came to an intersecting trench,
just like the first one, but at right angles to it. I turned left
again. Yep, you guessed it. I was on a rectangular plateau. It took
about 45 minutes to walk each side. There was no way in hell I was
getting out of there. Then I thought of the trenches. I could get
down in them. I could never get back out, but I could walk along
them. Maybe I’d find something that could help me.
I slid down and started walking to the left in the
first trench I’d encountered. Why not? By now I was a little
thirsty and I had to pee. One of those needs I could take care of,
the other I could not. I zipped up my fly and resumed walking.
It was hard going. The bottom of the trench was
almost knife sharp, and I was walking with my feet on opposing steep
inclines. After a while, my legs starting cramping, then my bruised
soles started aching. When I got tired I tried to rest. I found the
only position even remotely comfortable was lying with my back
against one surface and my feet resting on the other one.
I woke up disoriented. Where was I? I felt dizzy,
and had slumped over in the trench. It felt as though the whole world
was spinning. There was an intense light in the sky. It was too
bright to look at, and the air was very hot. I struggled to my feet
and peeled off my shirt. The “ground” was getting hot and the air
was getting hotter, it felt like I was spinning faster and faster. I
tried to run along the trench, but shooting pains from my abused
soles threw me down in agony. It got brighter and hotter by the
moment. I had to shut my eyes against the glare, the ground was
spinning so fast I felt a heavy force pressing me into the bottom of
the trench. Perhaps I screamed.
Just as I felt I would burst into flames the
hideous trench was gone. I was lying on a rough wooden surface. My
skin was hot to the touch and painful, but the air was cool, even
cold. The place was very noisy—it sounded like a party. I blinked
my eyes to clear the spots from my vision. Then I realized the spots
were really there. In the center of the room was a spinning,
brilliant globe. It shot patches of color that whirled around the
room at a frenetic pace. Something about the disco ball reminded me
of my late predicament, but as I was pondering this, I realized that
something else was very very wrong. As my vision returned I saw that
the room was much larger than I had thought. The party-goers were
gigantic, the far wall too distant to be seen. I was standing on a
table or bar, and from the perspective of the giants around me I was
no larger than a bug. As soon as this occurred to me, someone
screamed and I saw a gargantuan hand descending towards me. “Shit,”
I said.
* * *
That’s the last thing I remember before waking
up in the E.R. I wish I could believe that it had all been a dream,
but I cannot. A bad case of sunburn and very sore feet militate
against that interpretation.
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