“How’s the job search going?” asked Mason’s mom, Alice.

“Good” he lied.

“’Good’ as in you have an interview lined up? Or ‘good’ as in you want me to shut up?”

Mason’s pause was just long enough to give it away.

“Thought so,” Alice concluded with a sigh.

It wasn’t like he was a bum, he thought. He’d just taken a year out to go travelling but managed to run out of funds on consecutive nights out before he’d even visited his first country.

“Mason, it’s really about time you started pulling your weight. I don’t mind you travelling, but if you’re staying here, you’ll at least need to pay rent. It’s not like your dad is hanging around to cover for us anymore.”

“What about Katie? She doesn’t pay rent,” scrambled Mason.

“Your sister is still at school for Christ’s sake! Don’t play games with me.”

Another pause.

“I’ll get it sorted,” sighed Mason.

Mason lay on his sister’s bed staring at the ceiling while she typed away at her desk.

“So what do you think I should do?” he asked

“Uh… get a job maybe?” she retorted sarcastically.

“Come on, you know I can’t wait around! You sure you don’t know anyone in the know about some stock or cryptocurrency?”

“I mean, there is a casino up the road if you wanna go that route.”

“Forget it,” he said, getting up to leave.

“Wait…” began Katie as she began typing something into Google, “what about those clinical trials? My friend said her brother made fortunes doing them!”

“Katie… you might be a genius.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” she said with a wry smile, theatrically flicking back her cute brown hair

“Can you find any online?”

She was already two steps ahead of him. Rolling back in her chair, Katie gestured to her monitor as one might gesture towards a red carpet. Mason walked over to get a better look as she began clicking through options.

“Gut health trial, five-hundred… neural imaging, a thousand… Woah, wait. Wait. Go back.”

Katie clicked back.

“!! REVOLUTIONARY SHRINKING THERAPY – 5k/DAY !!” read the screen. Beneath was a picture of an upturned palm holding what could be mistaken for a large insect were it not standing on two legs.

She looked at her brother quizzically. “You can’t be serious. No way that’s even a thing.”

“Who cares what it is!? Five grand! For a day!” he responded, ecstatic. “What are you waiting for!? Sign me up before someone else takes it!”

“Your funeral,” she shrugged as she ticked through pages of terms and conditions in a matter of seconds. “But don’t come crying to me if you really do end up like that poor guy in the picture!”

“Or what, you’ll squish me?” he bantered.

“Nah, you’re not worth it” she hit back without missing a beat, “I’ll just put you in mom’s shoe before she goes to work without telling her.”

“God, you’re devious.” he told her with feigned horror.

“Anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “I’ve got you booked in for tomorrow. No need to thank me... little bro.”

“You’re a god. I owe you one.”

“Goddess.” she corrected him with a smirk.

Honestly, Mason didn’t really know what he was getting into- jargonistic terms and conditions be damned, any presumption he had about this came a single picture that was most likely edited.

A time and an address were all Mason had. He had arrived half an hour early, not wanting to risk a delay on the metro. The directions led him through an oddly suburban area quite far from the station, but he didn’t mind given the weather. So long as his organs weren’t being harvested, he thought, he wasn’t too bothered at this point so long as he got his payday. And even then…

He arrived at what seemed to be a slightly run-down apartment complex, all the buttons on the intercom completely worn down save for the pristine one at the top, labelled “501” on freshly printed paper, “appointment only” scrawled beneath. He buzzed.

“Hello?” came a voice.

“Uh, hi, it’s Mason.”

The door opened and he made his way up before knocking on the door.

He was greeted by a woman of Indian complexion with damp black hair, no older than 30. All she had on was a white bathrobe and a pair of slippers.

“You’re early.” she snapped with a subtle accent.

“Oh, uh… I can come back if that’s more conveni-“

“No, it’s fine.” She interrupted, “You’re here now. Come in.”

“I just thought I’d be coming to something more like… a lab, you know?” He said, stepping inside the cramped apartment.

“Did you not read the posting?” she asked somewhat interrogatively.

“Oh, yeah, I did I just-“

“This is for my PhD thesis. Frankly, I’m quite excited about it.”

Mason couldn’t tell from her stern expression; he’d almost take the statement as sarcasm were the situation not already so surreal.

“Come, sit,” she said, leading him into the living room. A large glass chamber stood where the TV would have been, cables sprawling in every direction.

“This is the shrinking chamber,” she told him matter-of-factly, handing him a clipboard and a pen. “Sign at the bottom.”

“I hereby declare myself solely accountable for myself while at a reduced size. I understand that I will be under the supervision of a trained technician though, given that the technology is still experimental, said technician cannot be held accountable in the event of injury, death, or loss of shrunken person(s).” one paragraph read.

The next continued: “I understand that accidents may occur by way of ingestion, inhalation, falling from a relative height, crushing underfoot, or over-miniaturisation. I understand that this list is not exhaustive.”

“I’m Ishani, by the way. I’ll be your technician.”

Mason stared at Ishani open-mouthed. “Is this for real?”

“It’s just for legal purposes,” she waved her hand, “the process will make you durable enough that-“

“No- I mean- the shrinking. You can actually do that?”

“Of course I can. I wouldn’t have posted the advert otherwise. You’ll be the second human subject, this is history in the making!” she said, finally letting slip some genuine excitement.

Mason remained sceptical. “And what happened to the first?”

Ishani furrowed her brow, seemingly displeased with the question. “The first was my flatmate. She’s the one you saw in the picture. That was two years ago but we… still haven’t found a way to reverse the process,” she said carefully, “That’s what we’re hoping to do with you.”

“Woah, woah, slow down! So you’re saying I’ll be stuck like that as well?” asked Mason, slightly horrified.

“Not at all! We have made many improvements over the last two years, it would be irresponsible of us to post the ad otherwise. Besides, you can’t back out now!”

“And why not? I haven’t signed the waiver yet,” Mason protested.

“Sure. But if you don’t, you’ll still have to pay the consultation fee,” said Ishani with a smirk.

“The what?”

“The consultation fee that you agreed to when you signed up online. Don’t tell me you didn’t read the terms and conditions!?” she said with feigned shock.

Mason gulped. “How much was the fee?”

“Five thousand,” she responded frankly.

Mason froze.

“Unless the patient agrees to go through with the procedure. Don’t worry, you’ll still get your money. This was just a precaution to avoid timewasters. You’re not a timewaster, are you?” She lent towards him, almost staring into his soul.

Mason sighed, angrily scrawling his signature. “Fine. I’ll do the damn experiment! But you’d better have a way to restore me to normal size!”

She reclined. “Don’t worry. I’m 90% sure we can.”

Mason winced at the figure, handing back the clipboard.

“Now, Mason, I just need you to undress before stepping into the machine.”

“Can you at least leave the room?” he asked, only to be met with laughter.

“Trust me, no matter how tiny your cock is, it’s about to get much smaller.”

He blushed, reluctantly stripping in defiance of the insult as Ishani walked towards the machine to configure it.

“It’s ready for you now, Mason.”

He entered, not caring at this point to cover his genitals. The chamber was not dissimilar to a shower.

A flash of light.

“See you on the other side!” was the last thing he heard as his vision waned.