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Author's Chapter Notes:

Zava makes her debut with the elite

The next day after Zava’s birthday, when she came out of her den to her accustomed sunbathing hour, she could see a veritable army of workers were busy like bees building some kind of wooden structure in one of the spaces between hangars. She asked one of the soldiers of the security perimeter, who was at a respectable distance from her, and he hollered back that that they were building a kind of raised stage with a canopy for the ‘very important people’ that were coming to interview her.

As she sat there basking in the weak autumn sun in her dark blue yoga pants and matching t-shirt, watching the workers, Zava thought that the platform made sense, as the VIPs who would come would not be comfortable looking up at her all the time, even while she was seated. These interviews would likely last for hours, and she estimated that if she sat in the ground in front of them, they would be roughly chest-level height with her. She supposed (or rather hoped) that at some point the workers would likely build a seat for her as well.

She had talked to Mark earlier that week about the ‘probation panels’ as he called them, although surely they would have a more official and considerable longer title for the job. Mark had explained that nowadays people preferred to perform most meetings through telepresence, thanks to the ubiquity of cameras on laptops, tablets and cell phones, instead of going through the hassle of flying in an airplane. But Zava’s was a completely different situation altogether, he explained.

In her case, seeing her in person was a complete must, as she confirmed later with her eclectic internet browsing. There were quite a few rabid conspiracy theorists already calling her an elaborate holographic or animatronics hoax, a few even saying she was a complete fabrication from the fake news media to create panic with stories about aliens. These claimed she did not exist altogether. Thus, the need to get the personalities to come and see her in the flesh.

These theories were far from being complete fringe, however, as even some politicians and personalities from the entertainment industry, including pundits known for their purported distrust of mainstream media and government-provided info, were skeptical that she was real, and the discussion was quite heated on twitter and other social networks, she quickly found out with dismay. She thought there would have to be some touching involved in order to convince some of these people, if it was possible at all to persuade them.

She and Mark had only started uploading some videos to her YouTube video page, where Mark first put his first video about them, after she received less revealing clothing. She and Mark had also posted brief entries on her social network sites, but only sparingly, as DHS had ‘suggested’ they did.

She created a Twitter account of her own, ‘Zav_TrueGTS’ so nobody could supplant her, to better follow the discussions and join in if she thought it needed, and specially to be prepared for the panels, but refrained from actively participating, as it probably would call too much attention upon her, and she saw that the discussions were far from civil, but she had her defenders also.

Even the president and some actors and scientists had commented on Twitter at some point on the ‘giantess’ issue, as the friendly ones called her. The not-so-friendly side called her the ‘giant alien female’. Some of these last said that she was too pretty and shapely to be real and presented some of the pics from the news arguing about the lighting, saying it clearly demonstrated the pics were bogus or that she herself was bogus. Others presented calculations that, according to them, demonstrated there was no way a woman her size and build would be able to exist or move around without folding in a heap under the Earth’s gravity, so she was likely a sophisticated, but mostly hollow gynoid with a metal skeleton.

The fact that she was cloistered just a day after her appearance helped fuel these rumors of fakeness, as very few people had seen her after that, as besides the few ‘official’ images Mark and her had posted, there were only a few recent images probably leaked from soldier’s or airport worker’s cell phones from her brief outings, and, (slightly) alarmingly, admittedly grainy shots of her, barefoot and in the first G-strings mark had had made, walking on the airport’s runway, probably taken by someone hiding under the bushes behind the chain-link fence.  The pics were so poorly lit, however, that nobody could tell Mark was riding in her cleavage in those.

Zava’s very large pupils let in lot of ambient light, which meant that she could see much better than Mark (or any other tiny, for that matter), at night, a fact they had discovered in their relationship very early on. This meant she did not really need the runway to be lit for her nighty exercise walks, therefore and thankfully preventing the paparazzies to be able to get good images of her. And the hangars were heavily guarded.

Construction was not finished in three days. After she first saw the workers building the structure, three more days she went out and they still were not finished. Same on the fourth day. But this day, in the evening, she and Mark both got official emails from the ‘First Contact Advisory Committee’, which had 10 people, though they were not named. Both Zava and Mark were being requested to appear before the first panel on the next day. Zava’s was going to take place at 10 AM in front of the stage. Mark’s would take place at the same hour but in a nearby hangar where they both knew McAllister and the DHS people had their temporary headquarters.

 

On the fifth day, when she emerged at 9:45 (Mark had left a little earlier), she noticed the structure was completed.  It was actually rather fancy, with a retractable roof to keep the sun off the panelists, an elevator to the side and stairs with rails. It also had blue carpeting on top of the stage, and a long table with red and white drapes. This was obviously done with the American flag color scheme. In Zava’s country, drapery of the national flag color was considered to be tacky, and actually bad luck to have; incidentally, in her world, the cloth was draped from a horizontal crossbar suspended from the staff, unlike most Earth flags (in which the 'hoist' of the cloth is attached directly to the vertical staff) she had seen since arriving at tinyland.

Mark had also told her that the stage would have a positive air pressure system, so the quarantine could be enforced, and none of the air coming from her breath would reach the panelists, so she did not have to use the mask. This because the psychologists and the other panelists would need to read her facial gestures and eye expressions, as would, he added, the AI system what would be analyzing her body language and her speech through the on-site cameras.

There were five chairs behind, and five water bottles on the table, obviously one for each committee member, and name plaques, but she could not get close enough to read them. One of the artillery walking drones was, disquietingly, beside the stage, not too close but obviously ready for action, and obviously would be pointing at HER. And there was even a seat prepared for her use. At least they were considerate enough not to make me sit on the ground in my gown. It was not a chair, but rather like a wide and well-padded cushion, enough, she thought, to sit cross-legged or sideways. There was a kind of thick padded scaffold at the left of the cushion, to allow her to recline on it a bit.

Of course, there were a few tinies, mostly young people, coming and going on the stage, likely aides making last minute arrangements, arranging the chairs and tablets for the panelists, checking the sound and video systems, etc. Around the stage there were also some very serious people with sunglasses and dark suits, obviously security detail, likely armored and armed and to the teeth under their coats, as Mark had told her they would be. Colonel McAllister was on the stage, out of his fatigues and in full regalia for the event, with all his medals on, talking to a young woman with a large (relatively speaking) black camera slung from a strap, who was taking notes.

Young and old, armed or not, elegantly dressed or in simple catering or military uniforms, Zava noted how every single one of the little people on the stage or around it stopped in their tracks, eerily synchronized, to look up at her in astonishment as soon as she carefully got out of the hangar and stood up to her full height, looking down at them from a distance. She saw some even gave an involuntary step back, and not a few jaws had dropped in unconscious disbelief when they saw her, most of them obviously for the first time in flesh and blood.

“Um… hello everyone” Said Zava, clenching her hands in front of her, smiling bashfully. Some of them started visibly where they stood as they realized they were being addressed by her. “may I take my seat now?”. At the awkward silence and realizing no one was certain if he or she was authorized to respond, except perhaps McAllister, who was too into the stage and without his loudspeaker, she chuckled silently to herself and simply walked to the cushion and sat gracefully on it sideways. She was about six (giant) feet from the stage.

Realizing they would be even more uncomfortable if she just sat there looking at them, she demurely lowered her gaze to the ground and prepared herself to wait for the panelists to arrive, remaining still as a statue. A few discreet glances a few minutes later showed her most people were glued to their smartphones, head bowed to the little screens, waiting as well for the event to start. More than a few were surely trying to sneak one or more pics of her, she thought, as per their surreptitious-looking poses with their mobiles.

Five minutes before 10 AM, a motorcade of black vans arrived behind the stage. Even more surly and burly security detail staff emerged first from the vehicles, with the characteristic black suits, scowls and shades. Then the personalities started emerging from the vehicles. Zava perked up, stretching her neck to peek at the newcomers. She smiled inwardly as she noted the deepening scowls as the security people noticed her impossible to ignore presence. However, she tried to appear as harmless as possible…

 

McAllister was speaking to the young woman who was hired as a professional photographer for the event, when the giantess came out of the hangar and stood. Although of course McAllister had seen Zava several times before, again he found himself staring, again, at the gargantuan young woman. She was dressed in a very flattering white, close-fitting gown reaching to her ankles, and a short, also white, long sleeved jacket on top of it; the long sleeves covered her wrist shackles. The jacket was left unbuttoned, exposing her neckline, which was covered in a lacey fabric, and she had a broad, also white girdle. Her hair was arranged in a low bun with artfully tousled locks that gave a slightly messy but charming air to her face, emphasizing her long, graceful neck. Despite the relative simple attire and lack of jewelry (except for the same gold earrings she always had on), she looked stunning, the white gown contrasting marvelously with her olive complexion.

He even caught himself staring open-mouthed at the divine apparition, forcing himself not to gape and closing his mouth. Looking around, he saw even the security people, sunglasses and all, had stopped all they were doing to look up in astonishment, and not only because of the size of the young woman, but because she positively glowed with magnetic, undeniable appeal.

Many of the people present had not seen her before in person, and never in an elegant ensemble such as the one she was now donning.  She was beautiful in the sweatpants and t-shirts she had worn till now when she came out of her refuge. Now, she indeed could be taken for a goddess, and standing below her, he knew he was not the only one that felt weak and puny in comparison.

She noticed the attention of everyone, but she even greeted everyone present with a genuine smile without an atom of either smugness or fear and asked, in her lilting English, if she could be seated… everyone was too dumbfounded to answer her, and McAllister did not want to appear a fool hollering from inside the stage… she realized nobody was going to respond, and simply took her seat gracefully, adopting a waiting posture with a tranquil demeanor worthy of a queen, eyes lowered. This Wilson is a lucky son of a gun, thought McAllister, not for the first time.

The photographer was one of the firsts to recover from Zava’s entrance, leaving McAllister to take some pics of the giantess and the whole scene…

A few minutes later, the motorcade with the committee members arrived.

 

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