Compression

Emmett woke up with a headache and little memory of the previous night. He had not been kidnapped or drugged, just spectacularly intoxicated. He rubbed his forehead, lying back against the sea of cloth around him, trying to piece together what had happened. Dr. Cale’s bachelor party was one hell of a festivity, Emmett knew that much. The whole thing had been set up after-hours on the lab’s third floor so the pasty guys who lived in their cubicles could join in. As it was inevitable whenever excited scientists got drunk, there was much experimentation with the cocktails.

“Oof…” Emmett rolled over and tried to will his legs to move. “Those pale bastards know how to mix a mojito…” There was music, some dancing he was quite glad to have been too drunk to recall, and Emmett had done… something with Dr. Cale. They stole the punch? Spiked the punch? No, that wasn’t quite right. A faint echo of a fizzy fruit taste was in his mouth. He recalled stumbling home, tossing his jacket on a chair in the kitchen, and then nada.

Not wanting a blaring alarm to add to his hangover, his arm flung out and groped for the clock. He gripped only cloth instead. Emmett leaned over a little. Still just cloth. He stood up and looked around in confusion. He was definitely on his bed. His nightstand was definitely next to it. He was also definitely smaller than any human should be. 

“Woah…”

The bends of Emmett’s sheets and quilt curled and fell like small hills. His memory foam pillow rose up like a barrier that he could only just see over top.   The calendar on his wall loomed overhead like a Times Square billboard. He looked out over his room and saw it stretch into its own horizon. His chair, desk, and dresser broke the skyline like islands amid a great, empty sea. By Emmett’s best estimate, he had somehow wound up about five inches tall. 

As would happen to any self-respecting, curious individual who found themselves mysteriously compressed to such a degree, Emmett had a great deal of questions. How did this happen? Was it reversible? Why did his clothes also shrink? He wasn’t complaining much about that last point (pants were important!) but it was still weird. More importantly than any of these, how was he going to get down from his bed?

Emmett carefully approached the bedside.The mattress itself was relatively firm under what little weight he was exerting. It took some care to avoid getting tangled up by the sheets underfoot as they did not provide much traction. Emmett gulped as he looked over the edge to the floor below. It was uncomfortably far away, to put it mildly. Jumping was out of the question.

His best bet would be to use the sheets as a rope. Emmett tested how well he could grab onto a bundled section and found it to be doable. The sheet was, of course, extremely unwieldy. Trying to feed it over the edge was a lot like maneuvering a large tarp. A tarp that, from Emmett’s perspective, seemed to stretch for several city blocks. He prepared to climb down only once an acceptable amount of sheet had pooled on the ground. Emmett took a set of calming breaths that really didn’t do much to help and carefully began the descent.

The climb downwards was best envisioned as Emmett clinging desperately to the sheet while scooching lower every ten seconds. He knew that smaller animals could handle falls better than larger ones. He also knew that the bundled of sheets at the bottom should cushion his fall if it came to that. He also definitely knew that neither of these facts made his stomach feel any better when he was doing the equivalent of climbing down a multi-storey building. 

Emmett’s stomach bubbled uncomfortably. He tried to ignore it and just focus on making the rest of the climb. Just halfway to go! Only his stomach didn’t stop bubbling. The feeling soon spread across the rest of his body. His limbs felt loose and light and Emmett was having a hard time keeping his grip on the sheet. Then the ground started to look farther away and the sheet felt thicker in his hands. He was shrinking again. 

Emmett lost his grip. He didn’t know if it was from surprise or the strange weakness his changes were causin. He also didn’t much care. It’s hard to bother worrying about ‘why’ when one is plummeting downwards. 

He struck the pile of sheets with a dull *wmph* and half slid, half fell through the layers until finally landing on a relatively level part of the sheets. There was probably a physics reason why the impact didn’t hurt him. Emmett imagined that Dr. Cale could explain it. He stood up at the bottom, eyes adjusting to the faint darkness as light filtered in from a hole up top. The folds of the sheet twisted like cavernous passageways that wound up and down into the distance. Finding a way out was going to be tricky. 

Emmett paced and looked about to try and trace some route he could use to get up to the light. Unfortunately it was impossible to tell how much footing he’d have on some of the higher ‘ledges’. Maybe if he shifted the wall a bit it would help support him more, but then that might change the structure further in. Such dilemmas were mulled over and dwelled on for far longer than Emmett was willing to admit. Especially once he remembered he could just crawl out from under the sheet and not bother with trying to scale the thing at all. 

“Right… filing that one under ‘no one needs to know’...” he muttered to himself. Down was much easier to do. Emmett looked from one twisty cloth tunnel to the other before he settled on the one that looked the best supported. He jumped, landed, and started sliding away. 

It was a lot like going down a massive water slide at a theme park--the big sprawling kind that you need an inner tube for. The rush downwards was dark and full of sudden turns and curves and for a brief moment even being upside-down. Emmett’s stomach jittered and bounced with each bank and there were even a few bumps and short jumps thrown in for good measure. There was a hint of thrilled excitement in his yells as he slid and splashed out of the bottom. He landed at the edge of the sheet just before it gave way to hardwood floor. 

Emmett was a mix of gasps and giggles as he got to his wobbly legs. “Wow. Just wow.” He chattered in a fit of adrenal energy. He stumbled out of the tarp and set his feet down on the firm wood. It was the first time since he woke up that Emmett was on a genuinely solid surface. The grain and pattern of the wood spilled out like cracks in a massive sidewalk. He rubbed his hands and cast about for a direction to go. 

A distant squeak and flash of movement made Emmett freeze. He’d forgotten about the rats that occasionally visited his apartment. The light gray rodent darted out from under the far desk and scampered in his direction. Considering how vast and dusty the floor looked from this scale, it was not unlike seeing a car tearing across an open desert. A car was a pretty good representation of the animal’s relative size, actually. It was roughly the size of a minivan and the length of a city bus. 

The rat wasn’t aiming for Emmett specifically; it more likely wanted the crumbs under his bed that had been left over from a nighttime snack. It paused as it neared him, though. The animal snuffled about and continued to squeak lightly. If Emmett were to guess--and it was definitely a guess since he was no expert in rat communication--the creature was confused. Emmett’s scent was likely everywhere in the apartment but his tiny presence was still something new. 

The rat continued to investigate. It sniffed and circled around Emmett, unsure what to make of him. He continued to hold still, not afraid so much as uncertain. The rat grew progressively closer until its whiskers were brushing against his side. It drew right up to Emmett and pressed its soft, pink nose into his chest.

He responded by punching it right on the schnozz. 

The rat recoiled and darted off so quickly its tail whacked Emmett on the side. 

“...did not think that would work.” He grumbled in mild surprise and rubbed where the tail had struck him. It wasn’t a strategy that Emmett was willing to bank on a second time, however. He’d need something better for defense until he found a way to sort all this out. 

“Need a Q-tip or a toothpick or something or--ah!” A glint of metal drew Emmett’s attention to a fallen paperclip. It lay against a post at the foot of the bed so reaching the clip involved a brisk jog. Fortunately Emmett was still strong enough to lift the paperclip. It had a heft similar to a very long and dense pool noodle, but much stiffer. Like the time he left one out at the cottage and forgot about it over the winter, but less disgusting. 

“Right, just gotta bend you into something workable.” Emmett stood the paperclip on its side and planted a foot on the lower portion for balance. The smell of metal was unpleasant as he struggled with the bends and folds and tried to straighten out the thing. Paperclips always made his hands smell metallic after using them and one on this scale was going to definitely warrant a shower or freshener of some sort. 

After a good deal of finagling Emmett was able to straighten the paperclip into something that could be considered a functional weapon. It wasn’t perfectly straight and was about an inch taller than him--which at this height mattered quite a bit--but it was something he could swing or thrust at any rats that had ideas. 

“Ok. So, I have a weapon and I’m on the ground. Now what?” He leaned against the monumental bedpost and pondered. Learning why or how this had happened was what Emmett wanted most right now but he definitely needed to also know if he was at risk of shrinking further. The only clear memory he had of the party was messing around with the punch with Dr. Cale. It was a long shot, but the only real lead available. 

Emmett checked his pockets but couldn’t find his phone. Slight panic. “Keep calm and work it out.” He assured himself. “I woke up clothed. That means I probably stumbled home and flopped over. Phone wasn’t on the bed or nightstand though. I didn’t wear a jacket, and if I didn’t leave it at the party then it would probably be--ah! Charging in the kitchen!” 

The excitement quickly died down when Emmett remembered what this meant. His phone was charging on the kitchen counter, which may as well be the top of a mountain. Slightly disheartening but he didn’t have much else to go on. At the very least he might be able to find something to eat. 

Emmett was suddenly glad he had a (formerly) small apartment. It only took about ten minutes at a light jog to get to the kitchen. The smooth white tile stretched out in a white sea, interspersed with crisscrossing rivers of grout. Thick, towering pillars of wood from table and chairs punctuated the landscape. Emmett considered one of the table legs as he passed. Even if he wanted to, climbing it seemed like a bad idea. The wood had no good footholds and some of the slivers were still small enough to stick him.

The counter loomed upwards as a sheer cliff face of navy blue wood and faux-silver drawer handles.   At the top sat Emmett’s charging phone. The drawers had a decorative ridge pattern that could provide some grip and the handles were narrow enough that he could probably grab on and hoist himself up when needed. 

“Good thing I didn’t go with knobs.” Emmett mused to himself. He was just tall enough that he could jump up and grab onto the edge of the first ridge. Unfortunately, Emmett was not rock climbing material. His hand slipped while he was trying to hoist himself up, sending him back onto the porcelain floor. On the plus side, it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

Emmett picked himself up and looked around for anything that could help him. The space under the kitchen drawers and table were not as clean as he’d have liked, but that did mean there were potential tools available. There were ants scuttling about in the distance, crawling up and down the cabinet near the fridge as they brought crumbs back to their nest. Emmett had a brief mental image of being carried up the wall by a set of ants leashed together like a dogsled. He snickered to himself at the ridiculous thought. Although…

Compared to his current size, the ants were slightly smaller than a dog but proportionally much stronger. Emmett didn't need to train the things either, just throw on a tether and hope they weren’t smart enough to notice. It was still a silly idea, but so was being two-and-a-half inches tall and being armed with a paper clip. All he needed was something to use as a rope. There may have been some twine by the garbage from when he was cutting meat free earlier in the week. If any had missed the bin then it could be enough. 

Inspired, Emmett ran along the lower edge of the counter until he was positioned under where the sink would be. He was glad he’d taken out the garbage before leaving for the bachelor party--dealing with the smell would not have been pleasant. The cabinet door was shut but there was enough space that the paper clip could be wedged underneath and used to pry it open.

“Hah! Physics for the win!” Emmett boasted as the door opened a crack. He climbed up and started rooting around the base of the towering trash bin. He found a small strip of twine, not much larger than the paper clip, near the side of the bin. At his scale, Emmett could tease out a series of strands with a bit of effort not unlike loosening an extremely knotted shoelace. He also grabbed a few extra to make a makeshift sling for the paperclip. Fibers in hand, he climbed back down to the floor and started ant hunting.

It was both an embarrassment and a relief that there were so many crumbs around the base of the refrigerator. The slated black vents at the unit’s base formed a series of pitch-dark passages that Emmett was very glad he did not need to enter. Instead he stood nearby, eyeing the bits of cookie and bread for the inevitable insectoid approach. Eventually they came, crawling down from the countertop and marching out in a black procession.

The ant Emmett approached was roughly the size of a dog to him. He leaned down and experimentally pressed a hand against its chitinous back. The ant either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and Emmett wasn’t picky about which he wanted. He tied the strand of twine into a loose loop and slung it over the ant’s head as it made to pick up a chunk of chocolate chip. He tightened the knot against the bug’s exoskeleton and began to tie the other end around his waist. That’s when he felt it. The bubbling sensation from when he had been climbing down the bedsheet. He was shrinking again.

Going by what had happened last time, Emmett expected to lose half his height again. Whatever force was governing his changes apparently disagreed. Emmett shrunk smaller and smaller until he was craning his neck up at the towering chitinous leg of the ant he was standing over less than a minute ago. 

“Son of a--!” Emmett snapped his fingers in annoyance. Even if he managed to climb onto the thick, hairy column of twine dangling from the ant’s neck there was no way he’d be able to exert enough force to trigger the touch screen on his phone. 

The black towers moved. Emmett scrambled to establish distance as they struck the ground in a loud rattling of joints and limbs. He was beneath the creature’s notice now--an effective ant to the real thing. Or at least he hoped he was. Emmett suddenly realized that he didn’t know if ants could eat meat or not. He wracked his brain trying to recall if household insect diets ever came up at work. It would probably help if the lab actually had entomologists on staff.   

The twine suddenly swung low and he dived for cover. The ant had lowered its head and was regarding Emmett with large, segmented, reflective eyes. Or at least Emmett thought that’s what was happening. For all he knew, the ant was just looking around for a new crumb and not about to try and clamp its street-sized mandibles around his fleshy midriff. Discretion was the better part of valor and Emmett decided to avail himself as far as possible.

Unfortunately, it was at this point that Emmett learned an interesting fact about his tile floor. As it turned out, “non-stick, easy-clean” flooring meant “extremely slippering to tiny organisms”. His sudden dash turned into a slip-sliding sprawl. Although appreciating how his momentum was sending him away from the ant, Emmett was very aware that he didn't know how to stop. Attempts to halt or change direction backfired and only seemed to hasten his friction-free pace. Mountainous surroundings whipped by, blurring into a distant ocean of shapes and colours before Emmett dipped down and the surface changed from slippery to spongy. 

The grout between floor tiles was soft and slightly sticky. The substance sagged slightly under Emmett’s weight but had much more density to it than the mattress or sheets he had walked over earlier in the day. A spongy canyon spread forth into the distance, flanked by sweeping walls of tile. It wasn’t consistent, however. Large holes and pits marked the porous surface and extended far below into the floor. 

Emmett had no idea how small he was now. He had become, if not microscopic, then at least some variety of speck. His shoes sunk ever so slightly into the grout as we walked. Were he capable of exerting any form of true force, sinking might have been a risk but he had shrunk far past that point. Swaths and bends of the grout gave the appearance of a frozen, gray sea. Any poetry the sight might have evoked was lost on Emmett, however. He was more concerned with getting out and, as his stomach was making ever more apparent, getting something to eat. 

Without a watch and his phone impossible to reach, it was not possible to tell how long he wandered but it at least felt like an hour passed before something changed in the environment. It started as a mound in the distance, a rocky addition to the cliff face of tile. As Emmett drew nearer, he made out more jagged elements and crumbling fragments. It took a few minutes to process what he was staring at. It was a cookie crumb. A house-sized, chocolate chip cookie crumb. 

It was not exactly a celebratory moment. The crumb could be food for sure, but Emmett was uncertain as he approached. Would it be like eating a rock to him at this size? Was it sanitary? A grumbling stomach cast the deciding vote and Emmett pried off a piece and bit into it. 

Emmett had eaten stale cookies before (he did go to college after all) but this was a new level of bleh. An uneven, bland taste worked its way through his mouth as he chewed and swallowed. At least it helped with his hunger, however slightly. He broke off more pieces and spent more time that was warranted forcing his way through them. What he wouldn't give for some water to chase this down with. 

It was a few minutes into his dietary slog that Emmett realized he wasn’t alone. He stopped mid-bite and stared at the...thing… that was crawling up the grout towards him. It rivaled the building-sized crumb in size and was vaguely pill-shaped with stubby legs and short mandibles. The creature had no eyes as far as Emmett could tell, but instead had strands placed erratically along its body that waved in the air. To the creature (a mite?), the strands were likely thin and flexible. To Emmett, it was like watching bridge cables. He eyed the mite as it lumbered by, strands drifting in the air like half-tethered balloons. He sighed with relief when it became apparent the mite wasn’t going to stop and turned his attention back to his mildly unpalatable meal. It was a move that would quickly be found to be an error. One of the strands struck him on the back of the head. It didn’t hurt, but it also knocked Emmett to the ground. 

The mite stopped and turned in Emmett’s direction. The strand began to move with more purpose, curling about and searching for him as he pressed himself as flat as possible against the floor. It was a lot like the scene in Jurassic Park (or any monster movie, really) where the characters hold their breath and stay as still as possible to avoid attracting the creature’s attention. Emmett stayed still as much as he could, but it was trickier than he initially realized. Every time the mite took a step, his body vibrated slightly from the force. One minute passed. Then two. Then five. It took ten minutes of Emmett minimizing movement while still adjusting to avoid the strands before the mite lost interest and wandered off.

Emmett didn’t get up until the mite was far enough away that he couldn’t feel its steps. He sat up and fell back against the crumb, breathing heavily. This was getting ridiculous. House-sized mites. He was cowering from something too small to be seen without an electron microscope. This was no way to live. Emmett needed a way to fight back if he wanted to do something other than run every time some titanically microscopic critter showed up. He needed a weapon, if only he still had the--wait.

Emmett felt behind his back. The paperclip-spear was still there, secured by a bit of twine. It had shrunk with him. Emmett grinned. Things were starting to look up. And then they started to look down. Very down. Because the bubbling sensation had returned. Emmett quickly re-tied the paperclip and started shovelling as much crumb as he could into his pockets. The task got increasingly harder as he started shrinking again. The crumb rose higher and higher until it was a veritable skyscraper of biscuit. Some pieces fell off, toppling down in response to some minor shift in the house. A few minutes ago they would have just been pebbles. Now, it was an avalanche of boulders. Emmett turned tail and ran as fast as he could but it wasn’t enough. He was struck from behind.

Now, Emmett was, scientifically speaking, Really Frigging Small. One of the perks of this size is that physical force, simply put, did not have the ability to hurt him that much. He could fall from any height or (in this case) get clonked by a boulder-sized piece of cookie and remain unscathed. What Emmett could not do, however, was avoid getting knocked into one of the porous chasms that filled the grout. And so he fell. 

“SON OF AAAAAAAAH~!” 

He fell, kept falling, and then fell some more, with brief punctuations of getting buffeted off one part or another of the grouty abyss. He finally landed not with a crunch or a splat or even a thunk, but with a slosh.

The ground--if that word was even applicable--sunk slightly in response to Emmett’s presence and gently bobbed in place. Emmett sat up and realized instantly what happened. He had fallen through the floor--possibly floors--and had landed on water. He was so small and light that the surface tension didn’t even break. Dark boards filled with deep ridges and long pits marked the ceiling, through which shafts of light poured through. Some rocks of cookie trickled down, falling atop the “lake”.   He must be in the flooring or inside the walls of the building. The water might have come from an old spill or leak that had never been noticed. 

Emmett stood up, very aware of how jello-like the surface was being. It was a little unsettling, but far less so than anything else he’d gone through since that morning. When he looked down at the veritable lake, he gasped. There was no other response possible. The water was clear, but filled with life. 

Crisscrossing fronds of some water-based fungi or plant waved in the still liquid. Undulating masses of fungal mould clung to the edges and spilled out onto the far shores like extremely hairy coral reefs. But above all, there were bacteria. Emmett had see the pictures in textbooks and with his own eyes through a microscope enough to know immediately what they were. Huge leviathans of amoebic sacs that swam and wriggled with the aid of cilia. One drifted directly underneath Emmett. He stared, transfixed as he clearly made out each organelle and tried to recall the correct names. It was enough of a preoccupation that Emmett didn’t immediately realize the bacteria was starting to rise up. 

The water parted and the bacteria rose up, effortlessly displacing Emmett onto its back. It was spectacularly squishy. Cellular membranes were made primarily of fat and although it was much more solid than the water could hope to be, this new surface was oily and gross. The fact that Emmett’s nose was filling with a slick, buttery scent from proximity was not helping matters. 

The situation presented Emmett with a dilemma. He very much wanted to get off the bacteria as fast as he could manage, but he didn’t want to agitate it either. The thing had no intelligence but the last thing Emmett needed was to accidentally trigger whatever molecular switch would make it think him to be food. Veeeeery carefully, Emmett drew his paperclip and kept a firm grip as he began to walk. 

The best analogy that could be drawn is that walking along a bacteria was like walking on a very lumpy water bed. A water bed that could possibly eat you at any given moment. Emmett was mindful of any shift or ebb in the membrane as he made his way towards the edge. At about the halfway point, Emmett’s stomach began to quiver. The sensation sent him into a panic. If he shrunk again now, there was no way he’d be able to avoid getting devoured! Emmett threw caution to the wind. Careful steps became frantic strides and broke into a frenzied dash. The bacteria wriggled and its surface churned as the fatty membrane started trying to pull him in. The edge came into sight and Emmett gave a giant (for him) leap to freedom!

He skidded onto the water’s surface. Or as close to a skid as one could get when atop jelly. He turned to face the bacteria and gripped his paperclip. It lurched forward like the Blob in a bad horror film. Emmett raised the point of his clip and thrust it into the cellular membrane. It slid in with a slick *schlorch* sound. He began to thrash the paperclip about as if trying to whisk a 
colossal, homicidal egg yolk. The membrane ruptured. Clear fluid began to seep from the wound and Emmett doubled his efforts. The wound became a tear and the trickle became a full-on flood as the bacteria spilled its innards out onto the surface of the water. 

As Emmett caught his breath, he realized that he was still the same size as before. Normally (as much as such a thing could be “normal”) he would have begun shrinking almost immediately after the bubbling sensation started. Emmett pressed a hand to his stomach and felt the quiver again.

“Oh.” Was all he could say. He wasn’t shrinking. He was just hungry. It was a rather embarrassing mix-up. Fortunately, the only witness was now an eviscerated bag of cellular membrane. Emmett turned back to the bacteria and used the paperclip to move its slimy outer layer aside. Being a scientist, he had spent a great deal of time looking at cells both in and outside of school. Even though his field wasn’t in biology there were times when Dr. Cale had poked him to look at the latest weird thing the petri dishes were doing. Emmett had a more-than-passing awareness of the various diagrams of what cellular structure looked like and he was curious how much of it matched up.

As it turned out, it was a surprisingly large amount. Most of the organelles Emmett examined, from the endoplasmic reticulum to the ribosomes, actually did look just like they did in the textbooks. He had a great deal of fun poking and pulling at the various organelles with a childish sort of excitement. Emmett avoided the nucleus though--that thing looked creepy up close. Eventually, Emmett came across a peanut-shaped organelle that rivaled him in length and had a width and height about twice that of a large beach ball. He recognized the shape immediately as belonging to the mitochondria, the power center. 

It was at this point that Emmett’s stomach gave another frustrated growl and he was reminded of his hunger. Stale crumbs wouldn’t last him much and he needed another food sources. As Emmett considered his options his gaze fell to the mitochondria. The thing powered the bacteria, so that meant it had to have some sort of nutrients in it, right? Emmett shrugged to no one in particular. A mitochondria being a viable food source was far from the most absurd thing that could happen today. With little effort, he tore off a section and bit in.

Surprisingly, mitochondria had a texture similar to a very thick flan. It also tasted a bit buttery, likely from having its own membrane. The verdict was undecided but at least it wasn’t as gross a meal as it could have been. It was also satisfying in the way only food for the starving could be. Emmett sighed contentedly and let himself fall to a sitting position. For several minutes he didn’t think of much and simply sat there, atop the water’s surface, eating a mitochondria, and enjoying the first real calm since waking up.

By the time Emmett was ready to start thinking again, he was in a much better mood. He got up carefully to avoid stumbling as the water’s surface shifted and picked up his paper clip, giving it a quick twirl for fun. With his trusty clip in tow, he set off in the direction he had been fleeing--this time with more confidence.

It did not take too long to find a way out. The water gave way to a rocky, pitted surface that Emmett assumed to be concrete and he saw light ahead from an opening in the wall. He stepped forwards and gaped. 

A forest of towering carpet fibers stretched out and obscured the horizon. Emmett craned his neck to see where the densely packed carpet formed a gray canopy overhead. The bacteria was one thing but this more than anything else made Emmett realize how small he had truly become. He had seen carpet up close before, after all, even run his hands and toes through more than a few. As Emmett wandered, he saw various bits of cloth or loose strands of hair that had fallen into the carpeting. They formed modest obstacles that Emmett either ducked under, walked around, or climbed over. He was also aware that there were likely mites or other “microscopic” (which to him meant titanic) critters about, but the knowledge didn’t make him worry. If anything, the whole experience was filling him with awe and, surprisingly, even excitement.

Somewhere along the line, probably when he had been fleeing from the ant, Emmett realized there was no real chance of his shrinking getting reversed. Right now, it also didn’t seem like he was going to be getting any smaller. That meant he could catch his breath, take control, and try to make something useful out of his situation. Emmett was a scientist at heart and here he had a once in a lifetime perspective on the world. Why shouldn’t he try and enjoy it? He had a weapon, food, no real risk of illness since he was smaller than anything that could infect him, and what amounted to an alien planet just begging to be explored.

An idea suddenly struck and Emmett turned around to head back to the wall. Now was as good a time as any to see if his paperclip could make a spark against that concrete floor. He was curious was roasted mitochondria was like.

Jonas Bell, 2016