“The battery will be dead in a matter of weeks”. The engineer’s words hung in the Capitol committee room. The senators regarded him. He spoke bluntly, not in political mumbo-jumbo, and did not appear to be nervous or intimidated by them. His determination was evident. John, the 25-year-old media rep for the chairman, was relieved they had all agreed to a closed session.

The chairman turned to the right of the engineer. “What impact will this have on crop yields. We all know the power grid is also used to heat the soil”. “Dr. Manette” the name on his table said. This guy seemed nervous. A bead of sweat was forming on his brow, and he shifted in his seat.

“Senator, we expect crop yield reductions of around 50% within months of the battery dying”. An audible gasp came from some other senators and staffers in the room. Good luck keeping this secret now, John thought, unable to comprehend the wider consequences at that moment. Another senator interjected.

“What scenarios of reducing our energy consumption do we have to prolong the life of the battery?”

“Senator, we believe we could perhaps last a year with severe cuts to consumption; i.e. households and non-essential industry getting electricity just a few hours a day”.

…..

John stumbled through the front door of his penthouse apartment. The committee hearing had gone on much longer than expected and he was exhausted. After the hearing he then had to fend off some prying reporters; and even lead them down irrelevant rabbit holes to distract from something of this magnitude.

As he loosened his tie and started to poor his bourbon, he looked out the top-story window; the high vantage point over the capital. Way out on the horizon, he saw one of his favorite site. Their owner, an incomprehensible Prodigan, was home from college. John knew she stood 4,000 miles tall or thereabouts. And she was changing her clothes for bed. John had the best view in the city. He watched as she slid out of her jeans, revealing a pair of pink lingerie underneath. It was new from the last time they’d seen her. She pulled the panties down and then stepped out of them. John, and any other men that could see, admired her naked pussy. Her “landing strip” was miles long- taking on a new meaning to the micros. You could fit hundreds of airports on it. Naked only from the waist down, she walked over to her dresser. She turned so her back was to the microputian ant farm. Her butt was mostly taut, but John could see the small ripples of fat move across each cheek as she walked. She removed her top, and dropped her bra on the floor. John scowled, the fact that her back was to them meant he couldn’t see her tits. Although they were large enough, he could see their curves poking out on her sides. He watched again as she lay down on her bed mindlessly checked her phone.

Why, John wondered, had there been so little effort in trying to contact her? She could change the battery. He could only figure the politicians didn’t like reminders of a being infinitely more powerful than themselves. But she’d saved all of their puny little lives once before. Maybe she could do it again.

…….

‘This has to be fake’ Maddie murmured she read the little pamphlet from the mail after he usual Saturday-morning run.  ‘Beaming thoughts directly into someone’s brain?’. Her curiosity was sparked. But she had to see if she could find the ant farm. She hadn’t touched it for 10 years- back when she was 10.

Still clad in her sports bra and yoga shorts, she fiddled with the device as she walked back up to her bedroom. It looked an old flip phone, complete with a QWERTY keyboard, and an unusually long antenna. She opened it. The screen flashed. “Frequency detected. Type your message”. What was she supposed to say to these tiny people?

“Hey”.

A message appeared rapidly on the screen. She noticed at the same time there were some speedometer looking needles, with labels; “fear/comfort”; “admiration versus loathing”; “anger versus happiness”. This micro appeared to be very high on fear, admiration, and neutral on anger.

“Is this…are you really our owner?”

Maddie realized she didn’t even know where the ant farm was yet. She looked around for a second before she saw it on an upper rung of her bookshelf. Carefully, she picked it up and set it on her desk. They would now know who she was, heh.

“Of course I am, silly”.

“Could you, could you always do this?”. She knew what the micro meant. Beam thoughts into people’s brains. She’d owned them for a decade but had never had any personal interaction with them.

“Actually, I just got some promotional thing from the company that sold you guys to me. It is able to beam thoughts right into micros’ heads. I can’t believe it is actually working!”

“Oh wow”. The unknown micro responded.

“So what’s your name, little one?” the giantess prompted.

“I’m Ashley” the micro replied. Before the giantess could speak, the micro responded again.

“Now what are you going to do with us?”

The giantess smirked. “Well, what did you expect me to do with you?”.

Maddie was quickly reminded, the micro was transmitting her thoughts, some of which were not controllable….