Sally sighed, dropping her keys on the table beside the door as she closed her front door with her foot. She carried a large amount of files, all wrapped nice and neat in a brown envelope. She walked into her living room, deposited the mound of papers against one arm of her couch, and headed off to the kitchen to retrieve a drink. Returning moments later with a glass of wine in hand, she sat down on the opposite end of the couch and stared at the papers across the way from her. There laid the life work of the sickest known individual of her age. Every study he'd ever done, every test and experiment he'd performed and written down was right there.

She tentatively picked it up and, undoing the clasp, ran her fingers along the papers. There were so many of them. Every few were bound together with a paperclip, and she shuddered to think that every paperclip was another life. Another person who had died at his hands for no reason.

No. Not for no reason. It twisted Sally's gut, but this sort of information could actually prove to be invaluable. Every so often somebody did something so unique that despite it atrociousness, things could be learned from it. And that was Sally's job. She was to read them all, and publish her findings. She let out a soft whimper as she considered the daunting task before her, but steeled herself and pinched the first paperclip her fingers came across, pulling it out of the lot. She leaned back, took a sip of wine, and started to read.

Patient #020 Cara Young

Age: 19

Height: 2.5”

Weight: 1.2 oz

Subject proved to be more difficult to capture than initially expected. It seems my observation of the subject did not go unnoticed, but fortunately the subject was prepared for a physical altercation, when of course the shrinking device operates under no such constraint for proximity. After collecting the subject, I returned to the lab and deposited it into its cage, observing its reaction. The subject seemed confused and distressed, offering pleas such as “I'll do anything if you let me go,” and “Please, don't hurt me.” Subject did not seem more comforted when assured that the knowledge gleaned from the experiments could further mankind. I therefore suspect she was a sociopath, with complete lack of interest in the betterment of her fellow man.

After being given several hours to acclimate and eat/drink, subject was removed from the cage and placed on a small wooden desk. There, a cylindrical 5-pound weight was placed next to her. As I explained the conditions of the experiment, she began to cry. Subject fell to her knees and pleaded again for mercy. Her tiny body trembled with fear, and it was all I could do to keep from smashing her right there in disgust. But, I kept strong, for the pursuit of science is the noblest of all. I began to perform the first physical examination, stressing her joints until she squealed. When that was finished, I laid her on her back and kept her pinned until the weight rested fairly squarely on her. Unfortunately it was impossible to have it completely off the ground, so one corner still sat on the desk.

She started squirming and begging, albeit in a much weaker voice at this point. I ran a finger down her side, and noted how smooth her flesh was. She very much was a prime specimen, and I delight in the thought that the accuracy of these experiments is only made more perfect by my ability to correctly assess viable candidates. Her shrieks and screams were simply delightful, and for the full two minutes she writhed beneath the weight, her body never quite ceding to it.

I removed the weight from the subject and performed another physical examination. Subject was much less lively than the first one, possibly due to her acceptance of her role in science. She still screamed when her joints reached their limits, but she struggled significantly less, until I dug my nail into her back. After that, she resumed that delightful squirming.

Subject was laid out on the desk again, the weight returning, and this time a second, equal one was placed on top of it. Subject did not last long enough for me to release the second weight. Her body gave a single sharp crack, and the give that that created caused the weights to bear down on her, crushing her small body beneath them. A stream of blood jetted out of the side of the weights. Approximately seven pounds of force crushed her. The remains were wiped up with a rag.

Sally felt sick. She had noted how his professionalism dropped as what she could only assume was his ardor rose. She absolutely got the sense he enjoyed doing this, but what she couldn't get her mind off of was the age. Nineteen. The number just kept running through her mind again and again, occasionally paired with the last line. Nineteen. Nineteen years old. The remains were wiped up with a rag. Nineteen. She set down the file and stared at the rest. There was no way. There was no way there was anything to learn from these. Nothing of value, anyway. She shook her head, finished her wine, and went to bed. She promised herself she'd never read another.