In the laboratory, the receptionist pulled a curtain back on a small booth. "Step into here please." she instructed, leading the nervous man into the contraption, "The procedure is easy." She began, right back in her obviously scripted presentation voice, warranting a slew of "Mmhmms" and "Okays" from her one-man audience, "I'm going to close the curtain and get things set up on the computer. Once it's closed, just undress and place your clothes on the shelf behind you. Then press the green 'ready' button. Once I have Ann's table entered into the system, the process will start. You'll be sprayed with the coating we talked about, and the machine will shrink you. Once you're small, you should see a tiny gown. Get it on and tie it. The machine will detect you once the gown is on and send you down the chute to the kitchen for preparation." 

Anthony did his best to collect the storm of information, nodding affirmatively as if his heart wasn't beating out of his chest. "You're sure this is safe?" He asked one more time.

The receptionist rolled her eyes. "It's safe. Just try to focus on winning the game." She began to close the curtain, but stopped half way. "Oh, and don't get yourself eaten. It's no fun if you follow the first fry to your girlfriend's stomach." With that sentiment, the curtain was dragged shut, and within seconds the machine whirred to life. "Remember to put on the gown!" The receptionist shouted from across the room as she activated the process, "Have fun!"

Many separate sounds merged to create a symphony of industrial noise, sprayers spraying, lights brightening, and a deep feeling of nausea subsiding only when the world was suddenly vast. 

Opening his eyes, Anthony quickly learned of his new size. The bottom hem of the curtain, something he was sure went all the way to the floor only a minute prior, was multiple stories high. The floor of the machine, the cramped little box he had been standing in, now expanded miles in every direction. By every estimation, he was irrefutably infinitesimal. 

Several minutes passed before Anthony shook off the incredible shock. At his feet was the small gown. He grabbed the garment and slid it over his head. It immediately lit up, and within seconds a tube rose from the floor, aiming itself in his direction. Before he could even gather what was happening, the tube roared with the unmistakable sound of a vacuum cleaner, pulling him off of his feet, and down the tube at mach speeds. 

The roars of the tube mixed ominously with the indistinct chatter of the outside world. Eventually, the tube had an end. He was dispensed onto a small tray, which to him, seemed to be a platform larger than most buildings. He first peered upward, reading a small tri-folded paper that had "Table Eight" written in a fancy cursive font. Anthony looked outward, finally getting a feel for just how small he was. 

Across the room, three women, each an obelisk to the heavens in comparison to him, were cooking in what seemed to be a very professional kitchen. Though several fryers might signify a more kicked-back diner, the brunt of the kitchen was the line in the center. Rows of stove top elements, the three women working stations and switching positions while causing the entire room to smell incredible. The three seemed entranced with their work, just as Anthony was entranced by watching them.

Not long after, a fourth woman came through the door, nodding affirmatively at the others before approaching the tray the tiny man stood upon. "Hello!" Her voice boomed. Her eyes focused on the speck far below her as she raised her hand, extending a single finger outward.

Her gesture was lost on the tiny man. He was too busy coming to terms with the idea that he was hardly taller than the woman's fingernail was thick. Looking up at her finger, he was certain that, were she to lower her hand, he'd be able to accurately walk along the lines of her fingerprint... Eventually though, he directed his attention to where she was pointing. On the back of the table number card was a small microphone and speaker, similar to an apartment complex intercom. He approached it, examining the similarly microscopic device. It had a "speak" button and a metal woven mesh, behind which, presumably, was the microphone.

"You can use that to speak with me." The waitress said with a pleasant smile.

Anthony brought a shaky hand to the button, depressing the switch and speaking. "Oh um... Hi..."

The tower giggled to herself, crouching down in front of the tray to be as eye-level as possible. "First time here, I'd imagine?" She asked. Anthony nodded. "Well try to shake those nerves off early, little guy." She continued, "I've seen a lot of anxious people try this, and freezing-up is a great way to lose the game and end up sharing a room with an appetizer! Just focus on finding your key and escaping. Try to keep in mind that your partner's goal is also to avoid eating you!"

Anthony was beyond anxious. His mind raced around all of the things that could happen. He pressed his button once more. "What my fiance... if... like... she chews me?" 

"I wouldn't worry about that." The waitresses brushed off, "your cells are smaller and tighter packed now, and believe it or not, you're more resilient. Failing that, you're also so small, you'd fit in the space of her molar crowns. The only real danger is carbonation. It can wear away at the coating that keeps you from being digested, hence why we don't serve soda here." Anthony was silent in response, though relieved as he knew that Ann hadn't had any soda prior to their visit either. "Any other questions little guy?" The waitress brought him back from his thoughts, "The food is almost ready."

"Hmm..." Anthony said as he pondered the question, eventually pressing the button again. "If you don't mind me asking... is every worker in the building a woman? That's all I've seen so far..."

The waitress thought briefly. "Well if you can keep a secret," she began, "most of us are on this shift, but there are several guys on the first shift. They all carpool with our head chef, Anne, but since Anne works different hours, and they're not supposed to hang around after their shifts, she shrinks and eats them for her lunch break. It's a win-win because she gets to feel full without eating much besides the ketchup she dips those guys in, which helps her lose weight, and the guys get a free ride home in return."

Anthony was dumbfounded. "Is it really so safe that everyone is perfectly happy with that arrangement?"

"I wouldn't say everyone is happy..." the waitress rolled her eyes, "Having to watch someone who cooks for a living bunch up six or seven guys and dunk her hand in ketchup... I could go my whole life without having to see or hear that again and be content... she makes them like a half-inch tall too, so it's quite a show." None of that calmed Anthony's nerves. Granted, the concept could've been funny or interesting, but given his size, fear overpowered everything else.

"The first course for table eight is ready." A voice called from across the room, "The key is in a pretty tough spot. Does this guy seem up to the task?"

Anthony reached for the speak button but was immediately interrupted. "He'll be fine!" the waitress called back joyously, casually pulling a miniature pair of tongs from her apron and grabbing the tiny man between them. She brought Anthony up to her face, looking closely at him. "Be brave little guy. I hope I see you advance to the main course!"

Swifty, the waitress brought the tongs to a surprisingly full tray of various foods. There were at least four different fried foods, what looked like buffalo wings, and even a small sushi platter. It would be far too much for a first course at any normal restaurant, but the scoring system gave some purpose to the layout. Anthony hardly had any time to mull over the options for where the key could be hiding before he was dropped into a small fryer-basket of fresh, crispy fries. He could feel the heat of the fresh cooked food burn his feet, but it wasn't bad. They must've let it cool, at least slightly. The scent, however... the world around him smelled unbelievably good. The fries were likely beer-battered, as a slight sweetness complimented the otherwise oily atmosphere. The basket itself had plenty of room for him to leave it, and through the slits he could see the bounty of food he'd be navigating. The world began shaking when the waitress brought the tray into the air, ready to be delivered.