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By Root 348 0

mice died. The mice were hemorrhaging. Next, they shrank rabbits and finally dogs. Again, the animals died with hemorrhages. Necropsies of the animals, after they’d been restored to normal size, showed that there was generalized bleeding at sites of injury. Small cuts bled profusely, and there was internal bleeding, as well. It was discovered that the blood of the animals lacked clotting factors. Essentially, the animals had died of hemophilia—that’s the inability of the blood to form clots. We think that the size-change disrupts enzymatic pathways in the clotting process, but we don’t really know. But we also found that an animal could live for a short while in a shrunken state, as long as the animal was brought back to normal size within a couple of days. We began calling the illness micro-bends, because it reminded us of the bends in scuba diving. As long as an animal’s time in the shrunken state was limited, the animal seemed to be healthy.

“Next, there were several human volunteers, including the man who’d designed the tensor generator. His name was Rourke, I think. Humans could live for a few days in the micro-world with no ill effects, it seemed. But then there was…an accident. The generator broke down and we lost three scientists. They got trapped in the micro-world and couldn’t be returned to normal size. One of the fatalities was the guy who designed the generator. Since then, we’ve had other…problems. If a person is stressed or suffers a major injury, the micro-bends can come on very suddenly, and sooner than usual. So we have lost…more…employees. That’s why Mr. Drake halted operations while we try to learn how to keep people from dying in the micro-world. You see, Mr. Drake really does care about safety…”

“What’s the disease like in humans?” Rick interrupted.

Kinsky went on. “It begins with bruises, especially on your arms and legs. If you have a cut you can bleed endlessly. It’s like hemophilia—you can bleed to death from a small cut. At least that’s what I’m hearing. But they’re keeping the details pretty quiet,” Kinsky said. “I just run the generator.”

“Is there any treatment?” Peter asked.

“The only treatment is decompression. Get the person restored to full size as soon as possible.”

“We’re in trouble…” Danny murmured.

“We need to do an inventory of our assets now,” Karen said decisively. She laid the backpack she’d grabbed in the generator room on top of a dead leaf. With only the moonlight to see by, she opened the pack and spread various things out on the leaf as if it were a table. They gathered around and checked the contents carefully. The backpack contained a first-aid kit, including antibiotics and basic medications; a knife; a short length of rope; a reel, rather like a fishing reel, which was attached to a belt; a windproof lighter; a silver space blanket; a thin waterproof tent; a water-backpacker’s headlamp. There was also a pair of headsets with throat mikes attached to them.

“Those are two-way radios,” Kinsky said. “For communicating with headquarters.”

There was also a very-fine-mesh ladder; and keys or starter controls for some kind of machine not present. Karen put everything but the lamp back into the pack and zipped it shut.

“Pretty useless,” Karen said, getting to her feet and putting on the headlamp. She switched it on, casting the light around, playing it over the plants and leaves. “We really need weapons.”

“Your light—please turn it off—” Kinsky muttered. “It attracts things—”

“What kind of weapons do we need?” Amar asked Karen.

“Say,” Danny interrupted, as if something had just occurred to him. “Are there poisonous snakes in Hawaii?”

“No,” Peter said. “There are no snakes at all.”

“Not many scorpions, either, certainly not in the rain forest. It’s too wet for them here,” Karen King added. “There is a Hawaiian centipede that can deliver a nasty sting to a human being. It could certainly kill us at our present dimension. In fact, a great many animals can kill us. Birds, toads, all sorts of insects, ants, wasps, and hornets—”

“You were talking about weapons, Karen,”