One day, three hours, and about a dozen minutes. That was the time Donovan waited in line now for his scheduled meeting with his unemployment agent of the ministry. As waiting-times here go, it was pretty fast. Normally, Donovan would be happy to get this done quickly, but not today. Not with the Dollard administration's latest law. It made Donovan feel like a lamb being led to slaughter.

The last few feet of waiting line evaporated much too quickly. Then, Donovan had to find a cubicle in a sea of cubicles and take a seat. The man opposite him looked bored out of his mind. His voice was equally monotone has his dressing style was. "Mister Spears. Donovan Spears. Age thirty-one. Unemployed for ten years and three months."

Donovan swallowed hard. He knew what was coming now. Dreaded it for the past month. Still, he nodded. "That is correct."

The government drone gave a quick glance than even made eye contact with Donovan. "Are you aware of the Drouillard-Act and that you are a viable citizen for…"

Donovan's mind shut down for a moment. There it was. His life would be rewritten if he wanted to or not. He barely listened to the person opposite him. He got the gist. The decision wasn't done by the caseworker opposite him. The system had put Donovan up for the act. Where he had to go to comply with the act.

There was one way out. Donovan could request a "thorough cleaning" of his sleeping pod. Which was the unofficial way of saying that someone would need to remove his body tomorrow, as he intended to kill himself today. But Donovan wasn't that desperate. Sure, everyone would look down on him once he was processed, but maybe it had its upsides? Not that Donovan could name one. Still, the hope was there.

A short while later Donovan was out of the ministry. In his clammy hands an honest to god letter. Made with real paper. What a waste of resources, but no one asked him.

For a moment, Donovan contemplated going home. To the small sleeping pod that was assigned to him. Delay the inevitable for as long as he could. But what was the point? Soon or later Donovan had to get food from one of the official dispensaries that fed the unemployed. There they would pick him up and do it to him anyway.

No, he wouldn't go home. But getting food sounded good. And a shower. After over a day in a waiting line, he reeked. Not to mention that he expected to stand in another waiting line soon enough.

The nutrition bars he got from the nearest dispensary were wolfed down. Not eating for over a day really had him staving for something solid. As always he dreaded to use a public shower. With it came a high chance of foot fungus. But he reminded himself that this wouldn't matter soon.

His feet inevitably brought Donovan to the public health megaplex. The hospital for the unemployed. Or "Doc Drive-In" as everyone called it, as everyone was handled as fast as someone ordering fast food.

As always there was a big line before the hospital. Not only taking up the plaza in front of it but the two levels beneath the plaza. It would be a long wait. But as he neared the end of the line a sign caught his eyes. "Drouillard-Act participants" and an arrow. It made him chuckle. "Participants" nearly sounded like he was a volunteer for something. Not that the government threatened him into the procedure.

Following signs after signs lead Donovan to a waiting line that barely was worth the name. Only two hundred people or so. Donovan was split. For one the wait might be mercifully small. On the other hand, his personal doom was so much closer.

The line even moved much faster than anticipated. Not an hour later and Donovan was at the front of it. They skimmed the paper letter at the reception desk and then ushered him into another cubicle. This one only containing a terminal. Fifteen minutes. That was all he had to influence his immediate future.

Donovan sat down and started the terminal. A screen much like a character creation system of games appeared. Just that this wasn't a game. Complete genetical remodeling was available for a while. Just outside of reach for someone unemployed or of the lower class. Then came the Drouillard-Act and now Donovan was forced to use one. At least it was free.

The first thing he noticed was the option to change gender. It was set to female and fixed on it. This was intentional and part of the philosophy behind the Drouillard-Act. A woman has less calorie intake than a man. As there was a deficit of available food, this was the main reason the Drouillard-Act passed. Force all the long term unemployed to become women and the overall food consumption would sink. It was simple math. At least on paper. For Donovan, it meant his world would change forever.

A second attribute he couldn't change was height. It was limited to five feet and five inches. Or about one hundred and sixty-seven centimeters. Why the government still insisted on the imperial system instead of the metric one was beyond him. He only knew that he would lose nearly four feet in height as he currently stood at nine feet and two inches. Those who had gone through with the Drouillard-Act were nicknamed Tinies. Even compared to an average woman, the Tinies were a head or two shorter.

What bothered Donovan was that it made so much sense. His recommended calorie intake was around three thousand. For a Tiny, it was about half of that. With half the population unemployed and two-thirds of them were long-term unemployed, the Drouillard-Act will slash a good chunk of food consumption away.

There was no helping it. Donovan had no choice in the matter now. All he could do was influence how he will look as a Tiny. He had about fourteen minutes left to do just that.

The computer had already scanned in his current appearance and calculated a fitting female counterpart. Donovan blanched. It was so underwhelming and mainstream. Did he really want to look like this for the next ten years or longer? First, the pale skin had to go. Nearly everyone had the same save for those one percent at the top. They could afford to reshape their body as often as they liked so their creed was to look as different from the masses as possible. Currently, a mix of DNA originating from Asia was the hype. Then again, did Donovan want to follow the mainstream? Even if it was one of the one percent.

He took two minutes to experiment with different origins. Settling eventually on a mix of Mediterranean and Indian. This gave the skin a nice brownish color. Donovan also liked the dark eyes and the hair that was so dark brown that it bordered to black. Surely he would stand out of the masses like that. Or rather she would, Donovan reminded himself. Soon, he would be a woman. Logically he understood and - barely - accepted it, but his heart still felt different.

He spent seven minutes on the face. After all, most people will judge him - well, her - based on it. Provided they could get past her being a Tiny. Donovan ended up with face starring back from the screen that was this weird mix of cute and sexy.

The last few minutes he spent on the body. His biggest hang-up was the breasts. Still an alien thought that he soon would have some. The first impulse was to scale them all the way back. Make them barely more than mosquito bites. Yet, it struck him as wrong. The overall silhouette was strange. It looked so early teenager that Donovan decided against it. Once prompted the terminal recommended something that was barely a hand full. Well, for him it would be barely anything in his hands, but her future hands would easily be able to cover most of her breasts. Donovan just made them a smidge bigger.

"Are you done?"

The nurse asked him a minute early, but Donovan nodded. He had given his future self an athletic body with slightly longer legs. Not so much that it would screw up the proportions, but enough to be noticeable. Overall, he was surprisingly pleased with what he had cobbled together. Still, he had the lingering doubt that there was something he had screwed up. A thing Donovan would regret once he became her.

The nurse finalized the process by letting the terminal compute the final DNA composition. That took barely thirty seconds. The terminal spat out a thin memory card. Donovan's future compressed to bits and bytes.

Then came a track through a confusing maze of rooms and corridors until they stopped in a rather big hallway that was lined with alcoves. Each one contained a medi-bed.

"Strip and lay down inside," the nurse instructed him. For a moment, Donovan contemplated protesting, but then what was the use? What embarrassment was he supposed to feel over a body he wouldn't have much longer.

The nurse pressed a hypodermic needle to the skin of his arm. "This will knock you out and when you wake up this will be all over. Now lie down and start counting to zero. Starting from one hundred."

Donovan did as told, but the first number died on his tongue. The darkness was already claiming him.

* * * * *

It was a groggy feeling Donovan woke up to. As if he had a hangover with that cheap moonshine the boys in sector D brew. Not that he could afford it often. Then again he couldn't remember drinking.

With a groan, Donovan tried to sit up, but a sudden bout of vertigo nearly made him collapse again. He took a few steady breaths and tried to recall what happened. When the memories came it was like a flood. The Drouillard-Act, the hospital and now-

Donovan opened his eyes and glanced down. It was what he expected to see. At least what his rational mind expected. His heart was more stubborn. It refused to believe it for a moment. The slender body that his eyes took in. Then Donovan chided himself. It was now her eyes and herself.

"Oh, good. You are awake." It was the nurse from before. It must have been some time as she braided her hair differently. "Try to sit up. The vertigo is normal. Take your time and it will go away. If you try to stand up please watch out for the step-down."

Donovan tried again and this time the vertigo was less. Still, she needed a few minutes. Eventually, she swung her legs over the bedside and immediately knew what the nurse referred to as step down. When Donovan had sat down - who knows how long ago - he had been able to sit comfortably. Not so now. Her legs swung free and there was some distance between her feet and the floor.

The nurse was busy wiping down surfaces near and far, but when Donovan eventually slid down she came back. She reached below the medi-bed, pulled out a bundle of clothes and handed it to Donovan.

"Those aren't mine." Donovan eyed the pieces as if they might bite her back.

"Sweetie, your old one wouldn't fit you anymore."

Of course, the nurse was right. It probably would look comical trying to wear a jumper for an over nine feet man as five feet five woman. With a sigh, Donovan started to unfold the bundle and dreaded the first steps of getting dressed. Now, she had to wear brassieres. Would that be very different?

To his relieve and also disappointment there was no bra in the bundle. Panties, yes and Donovan slipped into them. But, why was there no bra? Well, she had to admit her breasts weren't that big. She hesitantly cupped them with her hands and nearly managed to cover them completely. Not wearing a bra probably wouldn't be noticeable anyway.

The jumpsuit was brand new. That mediated the sting that the hospital had taken away the best jumpsuit she had owned. Not that any of them would do her much good now. There was also the paper letter that got Donovan into this mess. She pushed it into her new jumpsuit.

Completely dressed, Donovan turned towards the nurse and was shocked. Previously she had been a head smaller than him. Now she towered over her. Probably being two heads taller than Donovan.

"Do you see the green line on the floor?" the nurse asked. "When you are ready, follow it to the next room. There you can decide on your new legal name and get your citizen ID updated. Then you are all done."

For a moment panic welled up in Donovan. Somehow it had escaped her that she needed a new name. Her current was clearly male. Then maybe she should keep it. As an act of protest. But she reasoned it would make life harder for her down the road. She needed a new name, but her mind drew blanks. Did the whole way she shuffled along a painted line.

She arrived in a small room with a bunch of terminals. Some were used by other Tinies. With a sigh, Donovan took a seat and immediately cursed. As far as she knew these terminals were only supposed to be used by newly made Tinies. Yet they supplied normal sized chairs. Once again Donovan's legs swung free.

The terminal immediately recognized her. Probably based on the DNA that was given to her by the same system. She saw some details about herself. Mostly her professional background - or the lack thereof - and the measurements of her new body.

There was only one detail she was supposed to change: her first name. She still hadn't come up with one. For once the system gave small mercy. Besides the space for the first name was a button to fill in a randomized name. She hit it once and grimaced. Britney? What was that for a lame first name? Certainly, it didn't go with her family name.

Donovan hit the button a few times until she wasn't Donovan anymore. Lacy Spears. That would be her name. One last deep breath and she hit enter. The terminal spat out a new ID. Just like that, it was official. The man Donovan Spears was gone. Replaced by Lacy Spears.

Only a minute later Lacy found herself on the walkway outside the hospital. Ready to resume the most dreadful thing in her life: waiting that anything happened. Mostly for things that alleviated her boredom. The hope for employment was long gone.

With nothing else to do, she headed home to the small capsule pod she had been assigned years ago by the unemployment agency. As she came close the "shack" was as underwhelming as ever. It used to be a warehouse and it pretty much still fulfilled the same purpose. It used to house stacked goods. Now it was stacked humans.

Inside, small habitation pods were stacked high. Creating artificial walls and passages. As always Lacy had to count the stacks. After the thirteenth, she headed into the passage. Then she started to count again. Hers was on the right side the number forty-two and placed as the sixth off the floor.

"I am telling you they got him."

"Just because he wasn't here for three days? Maybe he got a day laborers job out on one of the farms."

"He got a job? That's your theory? Sure. And I am princess Annabelle the fairy queen."

Lacy frowned. The group before her were the bunkmates that occupied the pods around her own. She guessed they were talking about her in her old incarnation. If that was true then she had been in the medi-bed for three days? Two she chided herself. As she had spent a day in front of the unemployment agency and did go straight to the hospital from there.

Lacy stepped close. "Yeah they got me," she confirmed. Six men turned around to stare down at her. Damn, they were tall. Or rather she was now tiny. At least compared to them.

"Donovan?" one of them asked.

"Yeah, but it is Lacy now." She sighed out loud. "There is no more Donovan."

"Man, you are small. Just a half measure now."

Somehow Lacy felt ashamed as the group laughed out loud. But it didn't last. There was something she realized that they didn't. "Yeah. Yeah. Laugh it up. Won't matter soon."

"What you mean?"

"Jerry, two and a half month," Lacy started. "Blake, one month. Ayden, one week. Tony, two months. Well, Clyde is the lucky one. Still six month."

"Shit!" The outburst came from Jim. The only one Lacy hadn't named. He had figured out what the others hadn't. "I am minus two days."

The other men looked confused, so Lacy enlightened them. "I had been three months over the span of ten-year required by the Drouillard-Act. And here I am now. A Tiny. So laugh all you want, but I can tell you the government is serious. The whole setup in the hospital is streamlined. In and out by mass."

"My next scheduled meeting with the agency is tomorrow," Jim admitted. The statement was greeted by silence. No one was laughing anymore.

In the following grim quiet Lacy headed for the ladder to her pod. Soon, she was cursing under her breath. The ladder was made for someone eight to nine feet tall. The interval of the rungs now proofed challenging for her. Not to mention that the view down was a lot more menacing. Donovan never had a fear of heights, but Lacy might have gained one along with her new body.

Typing in her pin to unlock the pod was challenging. As was swinging into the small pod. Except it wasn't cramped as she remembered it. Laying down on the mattress she could for the first time stretch along and not bump into the headboard. The width wasn't that different - Donovan had been lanky and thin - but still, she got a little more breathing space.

After marveling over the unexpected advantage of becoming a tiny, Lacy started the build-in terminal. It wasn't as nice as those she had encountered in the hospital. Hers - as her pod - was probably about fifty years old. Fine cracks marred the display despite being of "uncrackable glass". As always her electronic inbox was empty. Nothing new. And usually, when something was in there it spelled some kind of doom. Like the last one that informed Donovan of an impending meeting with his unemployment caseworker.

She didn't even bother browsing through the entertainment selection of the terminal. All the content was even older than the pod was. Donavan already had scoured it for good things to watch and cherry-picked the best. She doubted rewatching the highlights in her new body would be any different. Her mind still felt the same as when she had been Donovan. But would her new body give her experiences that would alter her mind? Make her become less and less like Donovan was? The thought was frightening yet also a little exciting.

Starring bored at the pod's ceiling was an unfortunate pastime of Donovan. Lacy doubted it would be different for her. Still, she felt a little restless. Just to do something she pulled out her old wardrobe. Two small compartments to the side had four jumpers in them that had seen better days. She still might get a few coupons from fellow bunk-mates for them. It was probably best to move them quickly before the barter value sank. As Lacy suspected, it would with more and more people becoming eligible for the Dollard act.

She spent hours roaming the slum of welfare receivers to find the best deal. Which didn't matter much. Even with a coupon or two extra, it would probably only allow her to get one new jumpsuit of the dispensary. Lacy aimed for a bigger one. There she could also withdraw her daily allotment of oh-so-not-yummy calorie bars. The "food" that wasn't good enough for anyone, but those who couldn't complain.

As always getting anything as an unemployed social reject it meant waiting in line. Thankfully there were enough dispensaries that the waiting took only an hour.

Eventually, Lacy arrived at the front and headed to a counter. "I just became a Tiny." Somehow admitting this aloud still stung. "How many coupons do I need for a fitting new jumpsuit."

New was a relative term. Usually, it meant recently refurbished.

Upon request, Lacy handed over her ID. There was some typing and then the man behind the counter stood up to pull something from a shelf behind him. Two new - in the sense of 'new' new - jumpsuits landed in the output slot. "Part of the Drouillard-Act, you get two new ones. Along with the one you got from the hospital this should make three." The worker continued in a bored sing-sang. Apparently - while everything about this was new for Lacy - it was an old hat by now for the staff of the dispensary.

Before Lacy could even voice a thank you the clerk had already turned around vanished in the back. Not sure if she was dismissed or not, Lacy waited. After a minute the man came back. Heaving a small backpack onto the counter.

"Part of the welcome package. Some mixed toiletries and stuff Tinies need. That's all the free stuff. If you need more it will be against coupons. A new jumpsuit is thirty." Perhaps the man sensed how baffled Lacy was. "Yeah. Government subsidies Tiny clothes. At least for now."

A new tiny jumpsuit for half the price of a used big one. It was near heaven. If Lacy hadn't been forced to give up her height or gender. Soon, her calculating mind took over. With three new jumpsuits total, she didn't urgently need the fourth one. After some back and forth, she settled on a formal outfit. Just some blouse, skirt, and shoes. It would eat away all her savings.

Wearing a skirt would be something new, but so were a lot of other things. Lacy decided to rip the band-aid off about many things. Instead of spacing them out and dreading them individually. A change of pace would also be the shoes. The last time Lacy - or rather Donovan - wore shoes was when he was ten. It was the last real splurge his mother had been able to afford. Since then it had been those sewn insoles in the jumpsuits. Not the most comfortable solution, but one that was cheaper to mass-produce.

With her new spoils, Lacy made her way back. Slowly. As it turned out tinies don't have a lot of strength. The backpack plus two jumpsuits and her formal outfit soon left her winded. She needed frequent breaks and cursed at how late she arrived at her pod. Now she was drenched in sweat and the public showers had been turned off for the night. But the worst was still to come. Why did she have to have a pod that was the sixth off the floor?

She resorted to only hauling her backpack up. Emptying it out. Not even really looking what the government deemed necessary for a newly made Tiny. Then headed down to get the next load. To her surprise, the rest hadn't been stolen. Maybe because most of those still up choose to stare at her and smirk. Until Lacy remarked: "Just you wait. It will be your turns soon." That shut the murmurs around her up.

Out of breath, Lacy collapsed in her sleeping pod. Her newfound belonging roughly stuffed into the storage compartment. She vowed she would sort it out the next day. For now, sleep was paramount.

Just as she closed her eyes an alarm made her jump back up. Narrowly stopping herself hitting her head on the low ceiling. Donovan would have hit his head for sure. Her first instinct was that this was a fire alarm, but it was only her terminal that beeped. Cursing, she silenced the alarm.

Now she remembered. A few years ago she had set up an alarm for two unlikely events. The first was a message of one of her parents died. She hoped it was not that. Lacy hadn't spoken to them in years. Only now and then sending short text messages. That reminded her that she still had to tell them about her newfound status as a Tiny. The other reason was-

Lacy's eyes widened as she read the headers of the messages. Cursing aloud she banged her fist against the pod's wall and then cursed anew because it hurt a lot more than she would have guessed.

Job offers. For the first time in over a decade she had not just one, but three. Couldn't they have arrived a few days earlier? Then maybe Lacy wouldn't be a Tiny now. Or a woman.

With anger pumping through her veins, Lacy paged through her job offers. She fulfilled all the requirements listed in them. Thanks to countless hours in training courses sponsored by the government. On one hand, it was good, as it meant all those dreadful hours stuffed together with fifty other people in a classroom finally had paid off. Yet, on the other hand, it didn't explain one bit why she hadn't gotten those job offers before.

Reluctantly she accepted all three invitations for the interviews. Maybe one would actually pan out. Then she settled back down. Her mind a jumble of different emotions. Elation for having finally job offers again. Anger that they arrived so late. In the end, the exhaustion of the day won and she fell asleep.

* * * * *

"This is normal." It wasn't the first time that Lacy mumbled it under her breath. By now it was a mantra she repeated every time she needed some strength. Which turned out to be every five minutes.

It started with her clothing. She wore the new blouse and skirt. To say it was different was an understatement. She had expected that wearing a skirt would be. But the material was actually worse. In a nice way, but nonetheless distractingly different. The slightly silky material felt soft and smooth on her skin. After wearing jumpsuits made of safety textiles for most of her life the flimsy material made her feel exposed. As if the environment could take a bite out of her at any given moment.

Even the shoes proofed to be difficult. She was used to her feet slipping around slightly in the jumpsuits with sewn insoles. Now, her feet were boxed in tightly. If she hadn't known better then she would have guessed the clerk gave out a pair one size too small. Which, she admitted to herself, was unlikely as her electronic I.D. contained the measurements of her new body.

On the way to her destination, Lacy drew plenty of stares. She had a lot of options why that it was so. Maybe her clothes - while nice and new - screamed unemployed welfare rat. Or the fact that she was a Tiny. Maybe it was the fact that she didn't wear any bra. Lacy had checked with a few women of her pod storage and all said it was fine and not noticeable. But wasn't she still supposed to wear one? After all, she was a woman now and women wear bras.

Of course, she hadn't done much of the other usual women's stuff too. She tried some makeup - a few basics were in the government-sponsored bag - but as she fudged the application of lipstick, she reasoned it was out of her skill level. Of course, her hair was mostly untamed too. It reached past her shoulder blades and there was just so much of it. Even brushing it for over ten minutes only made a slight dent in the mess.

But all her worries had to wait. Lacy stood before a big arcology. Here, her first interview would be waiting. It was also the one paid best of the three. Not that this was a huge factor for Lacy. Any job of them paid an amount that was hard to envision for herself. It would be a goodbye to those hated welfare coupons.

Getting inside the arcology was difficult. Checkpoints over checkpoints demanded identification. What was she, a welfare rat, doing here in a place of business? Thankfully her I.D. and the invitation allowed her to pass. Yet, it did nothing to calm down her anxiety. It was as if the very environment suggested that she didn't belong here.

Eventually, Lacy stumbled into the head office of the third-largest provider of technical personal for Mount Olympus. The city - or rather outskirts of it - Lacy lived in. It was all posh, polished, and perfection. To not gape like a tourist was beyond Lacy's will of strength. Only the stares she attracted made her snap out of it and head to the reception.

After showing her invitation a system of florescent lines lead her deeper into the bowls of the building. The nicer interior design diminished the further she headed to the human resources section. Eventually arriving at a small waiting and seating area. What caught Lacy's eyes immediately was the composition of the other interviewees. Of the near dozen people, only one was normal-sized. The rest were Tinies just like Lacy.

One by one the tinies were called into an office. The very fact that some had to be called twice suggested that those were recently changed into Tinies. As they hadn't adjusted to being called by their new names. Lacy vowed to not show that weakness, but anxiety soon spread through her. She was the only one not sitting around in a jumpsuit. Was it a mistake coming in her formal clothes? After all, it was a technical job she applied to. Lacy, however, quickly dismissed the thought. The wasn't such a thing as being overdressed for a job interview.

After a half-hour of fidgeting it was Lacy's turn. She was called into a small office and the clerk there didn't even look up as she entered. Eventually, he glanced up and then did a quick double-take. "You are unemployed?"

Before Lacy could answer the interviewer continued. "Well, you are a Tiny. But- You don't look like other tinies."

Lacy pondered the implications for a heartbeat. Did he mean that Lacy didn't choose her new body as pasty pale as everyone else did or was it her clothes? How should she act on it? Lacy decided to play it cool. "Thank you for the compliment. My name is Lacy Spears. Nice to meet you."

The interviewer snapped out of it and gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Were are my manners? I am Alan Braddock. You are just a strange sight. Most Tinies coming in here still cling to being male and act like it. But you look well adjusted. I guess you were one of the first ones going through the procedure?

"Actually, no," Lacy admitted. "It was just yesterday that I left the hospital. It is just- Being a Tiny is an opportunity. I intend to make the most of it." Lacy gave the interviewer the best smile she got and hoped it was convincing. After all, she had no choice in becoming a Tiny. Now she had to live with it and decided to put in an afford. It was the pragmatic approach and beat wallowing in self-pity by far.

"That is even more impressing. I think you just made it to the top of the list of applicants. Plenty of applicants possess the technical know-how - at least theoretical - but most aren't well adjusted yet. We are looking for someone stable to employ longterm."

At that moment, Lacy knew she got the job. There were other questions, but one thing was clear. She had the foundation that others lacked. Lacy just hoped it wasn't all talk and could back it up later.

Some of the questions were quite easy to answer. Others more on the awkward side. Yes, she still owned jumpsuits and didn't spend all her coupons on fancy clothes. No, she didn't need more time to adjust to being a girl and Tiny. That she could start at the job immediately.

To her surprise, Lacy actually signed a work contract before leaving the office. At that moment she was all smiles and everything had been worth it. Going Tiny. Losing her original gender. The ribbing of her fellow pod-mates. Lacy had a job. For the first time in over a decade. That was all she cared about.

* * * * *

Lacy was nervous. And why shouldn't she be? Her first real job. To say her nerves were laid bare was an understatement. Just getting to her new place of employment had been a challenge. Even in her new jumpsuit, she looked like any other welfare rat save for her new height. Nearly every cop stopped her and asked for identification. Thankfully, Lacy had opted to be over punctual when leaving her pod. But with each inspection, her safety cushion melted away.

With a minute to spare she arrived at maintenance hub four in arcology five slash sixty-seven. Her new workplace. A glance around revealed the office of one Palle Nielsen. Lacy's boss to be. She gave a hesitant knock on the door and then a little stronger. Still, no response.

"You're the new Tiny?"

Lacy turned around to see a man towering over her. She still wasn't used to it despite that now everyone was taller than her. The man wore a utility jumpsuit and a frown. His shrubbery like dirty blond hair made him appear unkempt and standoffish. Still, Lacy had vowed to try making a first good impression.

"Hi, my name is Lacy Spears." She extended her hand. "I am looking forward to working with you."

The man waved her off instead of reaching for her hand. He turned around and walked away while speaking to her over his shoulder. "The boss ain't here yet Miss Tiny. Never on time that bastard. Name is Tom Lemmens. You'll be my new partner. Grab a tool-belt and off we go."

She grabbed one of the belts Tom pointed at and immediately had to fight to stay upright. It was heavy as any big boulder from mars. Donning the belt was another problem. While made to fit a wide range of waists its narrowest setting still was one size too big for Lacy. It resulted in the belt sliding down her waist and resting uncomfortably on her hips.

A few steps proved that this wasn't sustainable. At least not in the long run. Her savior was the other end of the belts spectrum. She had never seen an overweight person, but the belt was still made for them in mind. On the widest setting, Lacy managed to sling the tool belt over her shoulder like a bandolier or sash. It wasn't perfect. The belt cut right between her breasts, but it was negligible compared to it all shifting on her butt.

"Are you done yet?" Tom asked while pushing a small cart into the room. He too had a tool-belt, but its weight was carried by the small service cart. "We got a lot ahead of us."

"Do I get a cart too?" Lacy asked. I would beat wearing the tool-belt on herself.

"Nah," Tom waved her off. "Maybe once you proved yourself to be capable and not a fluke. Now, stuff the questions."

Tom led her through a bunch of service hallways the normal population of the arcology wouldn't see. She tried her best memorizing what system was used for levels and direction. However, she was distracted by Tom. Lacy had a hard time figuring him out. He appeared to have a chip on his shoulder. Striking her as hostile from the first moment.

The work itself was fascinating. Lacy knew everything, but only in theory. To actually see and feel the components in her hand was different. Better. It might have been fun if she had a better partner and teacher. Tom was insufferable. Always belittling her accomplishments.

"Still not done? I told you. The bypass cable goes from connector-bank X-three port fifteen to X-eleven port four. Hurry up."

"Do it again, but this time don't cross the ethernet with the power cable."

Lacy forbid herself from talking back. This was her first job. She wouldn't let Tom push her out. Once she had enough knowledge she might be working independently or could request another partner. Until then she had to push through.

"Still eating that garbage protein bar stuff?" Tom asked when they settled down for a lunch break.

Lacy shrugged her shoulders. "My first paycheck won't arrive until the end of the month. Until then, yes."

"Smart." Tom nodded. He took a bite from a sandwich that made Lacy jealous. After chewing only twice Tom continued. "That way they don't have to pay you if you fluke out early."

Every fiber in Lacy told her to snap back, but she waited. Let the anger she felt ebb away a little. Eventually, she managed an "I won't" through half clenched teeth.

"We will see." Tom chuckled. "Yes, we will."

* * * * *

"What'cha reading there?"

Lacy glanced up to Tom. By now she had worked with him for three weeks and he was still hostile to her. It took her by surprise that he took interest in her today. Instead of ignoring her as best as he could. Their usual work breaks spend in silence.

"Looking for an apartment." She could barely suppress her excitement. "Just a few more days and I get my first paycheck. To have my own space is a dream of mine for so long. And now I am so close to seeing it come true."

"Don't get too excited," Tom grumbled. "Worker apartments ain't that big either."

"They still beat a sleeping pod. I mean this one is slightly over four hundred square feet big." She held up her work tablet so Tom could see. "It even has its own bath and kitchen. As separate rooms."

Tom waved her off. "Girl, someone is trying to con you. That price for four hundred square feet. Way too cheap. Gotta be fishy."

"Ah, no. It is not." Lacy paged through the website and held it up when she found the realtor's landing page. "You see those apartments are newly made for Tinies. They cut down in room height which means they can stack more levels on top of each other. What they save in height they add in floor space."

Tom turned away. Lacy barely hear him mutter "damn Tinies". She really was curious why her work partner hated them so much. And by extension, her.

* * * * *

Lacy and Tom were deep down in a maintenance tunnel below the arcology.

"This is important!" Tom looked with gravitas in her eyes. "If all strands are powered down then you have to restart strand A first. It has a start-up surge that would fry most components in strand B and C if they are connected at the same time."

Lacy nodded. "Got it."

Tom glared at her. A glare Lacy knew well. It was his 'damn Tiny thinks she is smart' glare. "Repeat it back to me. It is important and it is up to you to teach my replacement."

Lacy sighed. "A first. Wait until startup surge is gone. Then add B and C. What do you mean by 'your replacement'?"

"As if you don't know. Soon they fire me just to hire a god damn Tiny."

Lacy frowned. Was this Toms deal and source of his hatred? "Aren't you a little paranoid? Why would a company switch from a seasoned worker to someone unemployed? That doesn't sound logical."

"Girl, how naive are you?" Tom let out a bellowing loud laugh. "Ever read through the Drouillard-Act? It is not just that they change longterm unemployed into Tinies. They offer incentives and tax breaks for companies who hire them. In the last two months, they fired ten workers in our department alone. A few days later ten little Tinies were hired. Do the math. The company wants those tax breaks and it will take more than ten Tinies to get them."

Lacy was baffled. If this was true then it made a lot of sense. And it explained why Tom hated Tinies. She was a constant reminder of his imminent future.

"Have you ever thought about-" Lacy shook her head. "Forget it."

"Forget what? Out with it."

"If what you say is true- And I do believe you. I do. Then the Drouillard-Act goes even further than we thought." The next part was hard to say. An uncomfortable truth. Not for her, but for Tom to hear. "We all think that the Drouillard-Act just minimizes consumption of the unemployed. But if it also switches out Tinies with workers you get new unemployed people. Ten years later-"

"I am going to become a Tiny," Tom concluded. Then, he punched a nearby wall. "That god damned Drouillard and his lackeys. Just how many of the population do they want to get? It must be up to seventy or eighty percent. And there is nothing we can do to stop it."

Lacy remained silent. Her head was already a step further than Tom's. It didn't take long for him to notice. "You are holding back. What aren't you telling me?"

"It's just-" Lacy took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "If becoming a Tiny is inevitable, then you have a choice. One that might save your job."

Tom's brain was working in overtime. Lacy could see it in his eyes. It made her feel guilty when realization dawned there. She had just suggested something that she would have hated hearing back when she had been Donovan. At the same time, she had given Tom something she had lacked. A choice. A limited one, but better than having none.

Tom turned around and walked away. "Come on. We still got a lot to do."

The rest of her shift was eerie and mostly spend in silence.

* * * * *

Lacy was in a good mood. And why shouldn't she be? She arrived at work after spending the first night in her own apartment. In her bag was a packed lunch that wasn't some nutrient bar. Life was good. Surprisingly so.

She was a few minutes early, so she started to prepare for the day. Snatching a few air filters that she and Tom were supposed to change today. It landed on Tom's cart. Along with her tool-belt. He might yell at her, but so what? She was in a good mood and she wasn't about to let anyone ruin it.

After finishing the preparation, Lacy had to wait. Tom would be pissed if she started without him. While she waited other co-workers arrived and headed out again. By now three other Tinies worked in her maintenance hub. She wondered how long it would take before she had only Tinies as co-workers.

Lacy glanced more and more at the clock. By now, Tom was a half-hour late. That wasn't like him. It filled her with dread.

Soon Mister Nielsen arrived. Her boss. Tom hated him. Called him a hack. Lacy could see why. It wasn't just that Mister Nielsen always arrived late. It was the whole deal. Always pushing every work to his subordinates. The rumor was that long gone connections had given him the job of supervisor.

On the way to his office, Nielsen noticed Lacy waiting by Tom's cart. "Why aren't you out yet?"

"It's Tom," Lacy replied. "He's late. I am waiting for him."

Nielsen nodded and headed into his office. Lacy had just picked up her work tablet for some reviewing of schematics when her boss appeared again. "You can go on. Tom won't be coming to work." With those words, he was gone again.

Lacy cursed. Was this it? Was Tom gone? His own prophecy fulfilled? She didn't even like him. Always on edge and hostile towards her. By now she understood why. She wasn't the real target of his anger. Just the nearest conduit for it. And now-

Now her good mood was gone. Even though she wasn't at fault she somehow felt slightly guilty. She placed her hands on Tom's cart. No, it was her cart now. Time to start her shift. With another sigh, she pushed her cart towards the exit.

* * * * *

Lacy was baffled. Her boss, Mister Nielsen, was at work before she arrived? That was strange. Then she spotted a Tiny beside him. Both of them exchanged a few last words and then the Tiny headed towards Lacy.

"Hey there," the newcomer started. "I am Veerle. Guess we are partnering up from now on."

Lacy stared at the offered hand and back to its owner. She looked cute. Northern European pale with bright blue eyes and blond hair. Lacy took an immediate dislike to her. Tom had been right. And now Lacy had to babysit a newly made Tiny. She could see it in Veerle's stance. Still standing like a man. Fresh out of the medi-pod she guessed.

She had seen plenty like Veerle in her month leading up to getting her own apartment. Tinies that were unsure how to act. For them, their new female body unfamiliar and strange. It was hard to believe for Lacy that not long ago she was the same as them.

"Lacy," she simply replied. Instead of grabbing the offered hand, she pointed to the rack with tool-belts. "Grab one and we can head out."

Veerle shrugged her shoulders and did as told. She didn't even bother with trying a belt on. Immediately setting the belt to the widest and slinging over her head. Just like Lacy had learned to do. But right now her tool-belt was on her cart. Where did Veerle pick that up? And why was she giving off this confident grin as if this was the most natural way to do it? Was she mocking Lacy for taking so long to figure out itself?

"Let's get going," Lacy growled.

Only four days since Tom was gone and suddenly she missed him. Which struck her as quite ironic. And somehow Veerle unnerved her. The feeling deepened as the day progressed.

They arrived at the first component to check. A big display panel in one of the arcology's residential areas. Lacy was just about to ask for the right tool when she saw that Veerle already had it in her hand and offering it to Lacy.

At each subsequent task, Veerle had the uncanny ability to predict what Lacy needed. Always offering it with that innocent, yet confident smile that freaked Lacy out.

Before long, their lunch break arrived and Lacy steered her cart to a small secluded common room that she and Tom had preferred to use. Time to eat her salad and forget Veerle for a moment and enjoy herself. Veerle could suck on her protein bar for all that Lacy cared.

But when Lacy glanced at her new partner her eyes grew wide as saucers. Veerle was unpacking a sandwich. How could a newly made Tiny afford-

"Goddamnit, Tom!" Lacy cursed aloud.

Veerle looked up from her sandwich. "Something the matter, Miss Spears?"

"Cut the crab, Tom," Lacy demanded. "I know it is you."

Veerle gave her a lopsided grin. "Tom isn't working for the company anymore. In fact, he doesn't exist anymore."

Instead of replying, Lacy only stared at her.

"Fine," Veerle relented. "It's me. What gave me away?"

"There were a lot of strange things about you," Lacy admitted. "But it was your sandwich that did it."

"My sandwich?"

"No freshly made Tiny could afford one," Lacy explained. "Unless they held a job before."

Veerle nodded sagely. "Well, it was fun to freak you out, but to eat one of those bars would be a price too high.

For a moment, silence settled between both women. Then Lacy nodded. "So, you did go through with it. I didn't think you would."

"I didn't think so either," Veerle admitted. "After our last talk, I couldn't get it out of my head. Did some digging. All those tax breaks and stuff. It applies to every female below the height of five feet and six inches. And I thought if I were already a Tiny then the company wouldn't gain anything by firing me for another Tiny."

Lacy nodded. "That's what I figured too."

"Turns out becoming a Tiny is free too." Veerle scrunched her face. "Provided I stay one for ten years at least. Else I have to pay for it retroactively. They even gave me a VIP treatment at the hospital. Bypassing everyone else in line."

"And now? Did those from HR mention anything?"

Veerle shrugged her shoulders. "I was there yesterday. Making sure everything was documented and my worker's ID was updated. The caseworker was surprised that I did go through with it. I mean voluntary. But aside from that, nothing. I guess it is 'wait and see' for me now."

"How are you coping so far? I mean I can tell from experience that it is a big change."

"Yeah, no kidding. Everything appears bigger. At my apartment, I was thinking the whole time I might fit in a second story. I mean the ceiling is so far away now."

"You'll get uses to it," Lacy promised.

"Well, if I run into any trouble I know who can teach me."

Lacy waved Veerle off. "Me? Teaching you? Because I have that much more experience as a woman than you. Barely one and a half month of a headstart."

"Better than nothing."

"Well, now you are in for it. Might as well make the best out of it." Lacy raised her tin can of soda. "To being a Tiny."

Veerle grabbed her own. "Cheers!"

* * * * *

Lacy glanced at Veerle and wondered not for the first time how people could change. Her partner had been a Tiny for two weeks now and much had changed. For one, Veerle wasn't as hostile towards her as Tom had been. They even developed a friendship.

Of course, the old Tom wasn't simply gone. Instead, it shifted how Veerle's personality appeared to the outside. Gone was the rough and sarcastic mockery. Replaced by dry witty humor that sometimes left Lacy with fits of laughter.

Veerle was as strict as Tom had been with teaching Lacy the fundamentals of their job. Yet now, Veerle trusted Lacy more to do her job and didn't belittle her every third sentence as Tom had.

Overall, Lacy's work environment got better for her. Not so for Veerle. Some of their co-workers belittled her. How she could become a Tiny by her own choice. Others got why she did it. Even voiced sentiments that they might do it too. Yet no one had gone through with it yet.

"Turns out it wasn't blood that came out of the tap," Veerle told her. "Someone had installed a large canister of red food coloring just behind the wall. So much for ghosts."

Lacy had another fit of laughter. Eventually wiping away a few tears. "You do know the best stories, Veerle."

They pushed the service cart into the home base of their department. Time to pack some components for the second half of their shift. As they were already here both of them agreed to do an early lunch before heading out again.

Both women twitched as the door to their bosses office was slammed open. Mister Nielsen appeared in the door-frame.

"Tom!" Nielsen yelled. He was the only one who still used Veerle's old name. "Get your Tiny ass over to HR."

Both looked at each other and Lacy saw her friend and co-worker become pale. Had all her sacrifices been in vain? Lacy grabbed her friend's hand. "I'll be here when you return."

Veerle nodded but remained silent for a moment. Then she cleared her throat. "Maybe I can still argue with them. Could be that they overlooked that I count as a Tiny."

"Wish you luck." Lacy meant it. Somehow the standoffish co-worker had become a good friend in the last two weeks. "Should I finish today's job without you?"

Instead of Veerle, it was Nielsen who answered. By a shout no less. "Like I care. Do what you want!" Slamming the door to his office after vanishing into it again.

"He's more grumpy than usual," Veerle remarked. "If I really lose my job at least I don't have to suffer from him anymore."

"I am sure all will turn out fine," Lacy said after grabbing her friend's hand again.

Both women gave each other a nod and Veerle headed out without another word. It would be some time before Lacy learned of Veerle's fate as HR and the main office was in another arcology.

With a sigh, Lacy turned around to the cart again. She guessed her lunch would be lonely today. The rest of her shift even more.

* * * * *

Lacy was exhausted. She barely managed to finish her shift and to manage to hit all the checkmarks for work done. The second pair of hands really were helpful. Now that Veerle was gone-

Lacy shook her head. It was too early to jump to conclusions. She pushed the cart into the hub and stopped. Veerle was there. Leaning against the wall as nothing was wrong.

"Took you long enough," Veerle commented.

"Well, it was a two-person job I had to do alone."

"I fear you have to get used to it. At least for a little while."

Lacy gasped. "HR. Did they-"

Veerle held her hand up and was just about to reply when the office door of their boss slammed open. Palle Nielsen emerged with a big box under his arm. Full with all the knick-knacks that had littered his office. He threw Veerle such a dirty look, that Lacy was sure it was meant to kill. If that was a thing.

The awkward silence was broken by Veerle. "Did you get all your junk out of my office?"

Lacy twirled around to her friend. "Your office?"

For a moment, Veerle only gave her a big grin and followed with her eyes how Nielsen stomped out of the hub. "Well-" She turned towards Lacy. "HR was all: We like your forward-thinking Miss Lemmens and we highly regard the sacrifices you made for the company. We would like to offer you a position where you can act as a shiny example for the workers around you."

"Oh my gosh!" Lacy hugged her friend fiercely.

"Is that how you treat your new boss?"

Lacy let go and stepped back. Then gave a mock salute. "Sorry, boss. Won't happen again."

Veerle broke out in a grin. "Like hell, it will." She drew Lacy back into another hug.

After a while, both girls separated. "So, what now?" Lacy asked.

"Well, first I have to air out my new office. Get rid off the stink of failure. HR told me that they had Nielsen in their crosshairs for a while. His lazy work ethic made its waves over there. I guess me, becoming a Tiny, is a convenient excuse to get rid off him. I won't complain. They gave me a nice pay raise."

"Good for you." And Lacy meant it. "Still, I will miss you as a partner."

Veerle gave chuckled briefly. "I guess I was right after all. You will train my replacement. Maybe even more than one. HR pretty much alluded to their intention for switching this department to Tiny only."

"A tiny change in company policy," Lacy joked. "I wonder how far they will go."

"Well, a third of the human resource department was Tinies and even one receptionist. It could get far."

"As long as we are on the winning track."

"Oh, we definitely are."

* * * * *

Lacy minced along the hallway. Always close to the wall. She just had to wear heels today. In the growing population of Tinies, it was sometimes hard to stand out. A few revived high heeled shoes. A trend Lacy jumped on. It was rewarding to 'tower' over her fellow Tinies. Even if it was only by a few inches. Lacy even could stomach the drawbacks of this fashion.

Today was a little harder than usual. Not only had she to balance herself on the sandals with six-inch heels, but also a bowl of salad she made. To her, having access to all these ingredients and being able to afford them, was still a miracle. Becoming a Tiny had changed a lot in her life.

Around her were only Tinies. Normal people had a hard time walking these hallways as they were made for Tinies. Barely clearing a height of seven feet. With her heels, she was a little closer than the rest to the ceiling. Not that she minded. She garnered a lot of envious glances from her fellow Tinies. Even though she was still a little unsteady on her heels. Maybe she should have gone with one of her four-inch ones. Those she had nearly mastered.

Eventually, Lacy arrived at a door that didn't stand out in any way to the others. Still, she took a moment to steady herself. Her, pushing the doorbell, marked the point of no return.

Lacy didn't have to wait long until the door opened.

"Lacy," Veerle gushed. "You look gorgeous. Are those heels? How high are they."

Lacy blushed. It was a little much, but by now she knew Veerle could be easily excited. Unlike her old self, Tom, who's most prominent trait had been to be grumpy.

"Six inches. And you look beautiful yourself."

And Lacy meant it. Veerle had found out that going cute fitted her best. Then, she had found out this obscure fashion trend from a region of old earth called japan: lolitas. Lacy wondered how Veerle could stomach having all that lace and ribbons around her but also had to admit it worked for her.

"Come in. Come in," Veerle urged.

Lacy took a few steps in and then something caught her eyes that made her rush towards it. "Is that a display or a window?" One wall was replaced with a view of the outside. It showed the landscape past the dome. It had a fantastic view down the slope of Mount Olympus.

"It's a window," Veerle confirmed. "My new apartment isn't bad, right?"

"It's gorgeous. And so much space." Lacy looked around. "How many square feet do you have?"

"About seven hundred," Veerle told her with a shrug. "What did you bring there?"

Lacy handed her the bowl. "A little housewarming gift. Didn't know what to get you, so I made a salad."

"That works," Veerle agreed. "I am a little surprised you came alone."

Lacy gave her friend a confused look.

"Well, the rumor is that you are quite popular with the other Tinies in the company," Veerle remarked. She placed the bowl in her kitchen and retrieved two flutes of champagne. Handing one to Lacy. "In fact, I think Noreen from HR wanted to ask you out."

Once again, Lacy brushed. "She did."

"And?" Veerle asked as Lacy didn't continue.

"And nothing." She caught her friend's eyes. "I already pursue someone else."

"Must be a lucky girl," Veerle mused. Then she raised her glass. "Shall we toast?"

"Sure," Lacy agreed.

"To being a Tiny," Veerle announced. "And all the benefits that come with it!"

"To being a Tiny," Lacy echoed. And to her surprise, she meant it.

Now her heart hammered. There had been truly a lot of benefits since she had become one. Maybe it made her greedy.

A step forward brought her close to her friend. She wet lips. The beating of her heart echoing in her ears. It was time to see if she could get the last reward for becoming a Tiny.

She caught Veerle's eyes and leaned forward.