Giant Solidarity G/T

Epilogue: Next Generation

Six months later Reagan, Larry and I moved downstairs into apartment 104, the biggest unit in the building. Rey had gotten a second paying gig as a human homecare visiting nurse. Coupled with my Hitherto promotion, this allowed us to afford the higher rent downstairs, and we were first on the waitlist. As with our second-floor apartment, we used 104's spare bedroom as the Teeny Suite for our incoming foster-humans, even relocating the dollhouse down there, or human dorm as I sometimes call it. Since moving, we bought a new TV for the Teeny Suite, now positioned facing the dollhouse from across the room. Although a small screen, the secondhand television was like a drive-in movie to our humans.

         Arriving home from a jog one morning, the sound of the TV in the Teeny Suite blaring filled my ears when I removed my earbuds. Unsurprised, peaking in I saw our thirtysomething plebian foster-human Jenna, appearing to be a girl-shaped paperweight, atop the bureau. Her eyes transfixed on the screen. Her foot rested on the remote pause-button like an escalator. I smiled. "Watching some tube for a change, Jenna?" I asked softly, not to startle her as I draped my sweaty hand-towel on the doorknob.

         In response, Jenna wordlessly put a finger to her lips and rewound the TV by leapfrogging to the next button. Realizing my rudeness, I stifled myself. Jenna was hyper-focused, studying whatever she was watching. "Every Sunday morning, they rerun this movie about this bumbling detective," Jenna explained, biting her lips, watching the onscreen actress unblinkingly. "Think I've almost got the disgruntled giantess police chief's character down. Once I memorize another scene and get her harumph attitude down, I'll have delved into Chief Amanda Palermo's character." On her soybean-sized face, I saw her contorting her forehead and pursing her lower lip, trying to perfect the expression.

         Since she had it paused on a closeup of the actress she was understudying, I spoke freely. "If I could, I'd hand you an acting award right now," I smirked, looking between her and the giantess police captain glaring morosely from the TV. "Aren't the auditions for the District Human Theater Company next week, by the way? I hope you're going?"

         "Sure am!" said Jenna, practicing a stance with a handgun, leveling it at a dollhouse window. "Rey's driving me." Suddenly, she remembered something that made her break character, excitedly. "Online, I read even the Giant Actors Guild is accepting humans now, to let us be in real budget films." A gleam of hope that warmed my blood flashed across her peaky face.

         "Humans aren't blackballed from theater or movie biz anymore," I said, drinking from my water bottle. "Probably be dropping Giant or adding Tiny to that Actors Guild's title."

         "Right," she said, dreamily, scrolling down the TV menu, tapping her shoe. "Still can't believe it's possible. I can be on the TV, and it doesn't have to be inside a pot on some cooking show." Jenna was unfortunately late on the news of human integration. Before she was assigned to Reagan and me by the caseworker, Jenna's colony was turned over to Human Relief when they were found living in the walls of a movie theater, scheduled for demolition. Movies and advertisements were their primary outlook into the world. The Monolith Cinema human citizenry had seen Proposition 68, and other strides of the Giant-Tiny Reformation advertised on the big screen. But sadly, they thought these were trailers for movies until the rescuers explained. 

         About to kick off my running shoes in the hallway, I faltered and checked the floor around me. "Have you seen Lucia, Jenna?" I asked, only so I wouldn't risk stepping on the other tiny woman.

         Whether Jenna sighed because of the subject of my question, or because I interrupted her method acting again, I'm unsure. But she did answer me. "Lucia ran away when she heard the front door slam." She pointed across the room, toward the space under the closet door. "If I'm not mistaken, she skidded into Hiding Place number three."