"You know what house number we're looking for, right?" I took my eyes from the road for a second to glance at Lydia in the seat beside me. Unused to Alabama's sticky heat, my trusty navigator had resorted to fanning herself with a well-worn stack of google maps. She nodded wearily, and I realized this was about the 61st time I'd asked the same question. "Should be just a bit further - probably that place at the top of the hill." Susanna and Sara, their long limbs painfully folded into the back seat of our compact car, were animatedly discussing music teaching proceedures and studio policies and didn't realize our destination was finally in sight. As the car tires crunched to a stop on the gravel driveway, I peered through the bug-spotted windshield at the double-wide mobile home. Motorcycles and child-sized bikes were laying around, a horse could be seen in a small pasture out back, and an abandoned wire coop advertised the lack of chickens. Yep, pretty much how I imagined the Godin's house to be. Except for one thing. *Silence.* "Wonder where everyone is?" I questioned absently, nervously. This was always the worst part of visiting anyone: those awkward final moments before meeting, hoping I was actually at the right place at the right time, trying to convince myself that I really wanted to be here - and, more importantly, that the feeling was mutual. "Maybe they're still at the airport, picking up Mark and Carrie," Sara suggested. "I thought at least Chadster would be here, though." She looked sad. "Well...guess we won't know unless we go knock on the door," I said, trying to feel brave. Stiff from the day's 10-hour drive, we all staggered out of the car -- I unhooking the bungee cord that kept my door securely closed, and Lydia daintily climbing out of her window. Susanna sighed at this reminder of her "new" car's foibles, then courageously took the lead up the cracked sidewalk. She paused only momentarily at the door before knocking. To our surprise, the door swung wide open at her touch, revealing a small living room area with furniture lining the walls. All was clean and neat, but every inch was used to maximum efficiency: a necessity when a family's numbers keep multiplying and the house size does not. I recognized the carrot-colored curtains near the computer desk in the corner. Yep, this was definitely the correct house. But where was everyone? Stepping cautiously into the dimly-lit room, we realized that we were not alone after all. Chris was sitting on top of the upright piano, peering at a laptop with serious concentration. His head bumped the ceiling, and I realized that he'd chosen the nearest substitute for rafters as his preferred location. He seemed to be focusing on an important project, so we decided not to bother him. Then someone stood up from the rocking chair in the corner and came towards us. "Abi! Sara! You made it! And this must be Susanna and Lydia?" I recognized Kayla's cheery smile. We leaned down to give her hugs, and I apologized. "Sorry, I guess we didn't see you sitting there. You're so small..." She laughed. "No problem, I'm used to it. I don't go by 'hobbit' for nothing, you know." She went on to say that everyone else had gone to the airport, and that she and Chris had opted to stay at the house for a bit of quiet time. "I'm writing a new story," she explained. "And Chris said he had some coding project deadline to meet this evening." At the sound of his name, Chris looked up and waved. "I assume you had safe travels?" he asked. "I mean, you *were* going with the grain and all..." He obviously remembered that we'd brought along some fresh-ground whole-grain flour from our farm, for use in Kim's birthday cake. Kayla and Sara giggled, and Lydia groaned in mock protest. "Sounds just like something Daddy would say." Silence settled over the room briefly, and then Sara began asking Kayla about her story. I went to look out the small window, using the opportunity to snap a quick picture of Chris ensconced up in in his make-shift "rafters" and another of the girls back at the doorway. May as well start documenting the event now, I reasoned. One of my pet peeves is the way most people wait until the last few hours of a gathering to pull out their cameras - so we end up with a million shots of sweaty Reunion-goers in brown shirts, hugging and grinning their farewells, but no one can remember who they shared supper with right after they arrived. What was that guy's name? So, yeah. I believe in doing my part to fix that. My silent ranting was interrupted by the rattley sound of a vehicle pulling up outside the house. "They're here!" Sara squealed. We stepped out in time to see a red Dodge maxi-van come to a stop beside Susanna's car. In an instant, the doors burst open and a tangle of identical-looking children tumbled out, followed more slowly by Kim and her honored guests. Exclamation points could nearly be seen in the air as Carrie enthusiastically greeted everyone by name. Bekah, Char, and Elisabeth had plenty of hugs to go around. Chad climbed down from the driver's seat, shrugging off Michael's polite "Thanks for driving, Chad," by saying that it brought back too many old memories of his taxi-driving days. Poor Mark had gotten stuck in the very back seat of the van and wasn't feeling so well, but he trailed along after the rest of the guys when Mike suggested they take a quick motorcycle spin while the girls got supper together. It was after the meal was over, and a sort of sleepy, comfortable quietness had settled over the group, that Chris spoke up. "I have been working on a new computer program," he announced. "Just got it it finished up this evening before you all arrived." "Oooh, cool! What is it? Can I see it?" Carrie asked eagerly. "Schweet!" Mark pronounced. I caught Lydia's eye and mouthed "potato," as we both smothered a laugh. "Well..." Chris hesitated. "It's hard to explain, being such a complicated program. I'd have to show it to you, but it'd work best to have just a few people see it at a time. Could I perhaps set up my laptop in one of the bedrooms?" This last question was directed at Mrs. Godin, who nodded. "Do you know what he's up to?" Bekah asked Kayla in an undertone. The younger girl shook her head, looking puzzled. Sara and Susanna exchanged confused glances. Chris laughed. "Don't worry. I won't have you shaking missionary's feet or anything like that." Amidst the general laughter and cryptic explainations about how some of the group had "met the missionaries" at a previous gathering, Chris disappeared into the next room. Soon he returned to announce that he was ready for whoever wanted to see the program first. Carrie immediately stood up, followed by Elisabeth, Charlynn, and Chad. "The brave ones," Mike muttered. Kim snarfed. "No want to see it." A murmur of voices was all we could hear from the bedroom, followed by silence. In few minutes, Chris stepped out again and asked who wished to be next. Susanna, Kayla, Mark (video camera in hand), and assorted Godin youngins stepped forward. By round three, I figured I'd better see what was going on, so I volunteered to go along with Bekah, Michael, Lydia, and Sara. I still held my camera and noticed Bekah grabbed hers, too. This should be interesting. We stepped cautiously into the low-ceiling bedroom. Three sets of bunkbeds took most of the space, and Chris' laptop was situated on a narrow dresser. Chris seemed to be the only one there, his face sillouetted eerily against the glowing laptop screen. "Where are the others?" Michael asked. "Come over this way where you can see the screen better," Chris said quickly. "I have a webcam set up, and a bunch of folks want to say hi to you." "Oh? Who's watching?" I queried. Chris squinted at the screen. "Looks like Mr. K, Autumn, Reba, Bethany, Brian, Klaus, Dave, Ben, and Cy are in there now," he answered. "Oh, and Katie, and Scarlett just signed on, too." "It's a shame Katie and Scarlett couldn't make it here after all," Bekah said sympathetically. "Hi, girls!" She waved. "Yes," Sara agreed. "And Carol and Matt are still on their big trip out west so they couldn't come." "Maybe next time," Michael said absently, his eyes on the screen. I think it was at that point we realized something was wrong, very wrong. Chris and the laptop seemed to be growing more and more enormous, towering far above us. The whole room seemed to be expanding rapidly. Lydia clutched my arm. "W-what's happening?" My mind spun quickly. This all seemed so strangely familiar. Then it hit me: we were being shrunk to dollhouse size, just like I'd read about in children's literature so many times. Scenarios from "The Mystery of the Shrinking House", "The Borrowers" series, and "The Littles" adventures came tumbling into my memory like apples from a box with a soggy bottom. Okay, so we were being shrunk...but why? Why would Chris do this? Before I had time to process these thoughts further, Chris scooped us up in his enormous hands and deposited us in a blanket-lined box. The springs barely visible far overhead led me to the conclusion that we were under one of the bunkbeds. Our eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and we saw Carrie, Elisabeth, Kayla, and the others sitting around the edges of the box in various stages of dazed confusion and despair. Mark was interviewing Chad with his video camera, Elisabeth was polishing her gun and muttering something about not having a chance for self-defense, and Kayla, Charlynn, and Michael smiled as much as ever, seemed to have been scarcely fazed by such an unusual experience. Bekah's eyes filled with tears and Sara looked glumly at her black and white Converse tennies. "They're small now, and so am I...but I never wanted to be *this* tiny..." We heard some tussling and quick talking going on in the other room, as Mr. and Mrs. Godin tried to convince Mike and Kim to come and see Chris' program. Eventually they all came trooping in, shaking the floor alarmingly. Chris again explained about the webcam, and in just a few minutes his hand appeared and the four Godins joined us in the box. "So...he got us all," Kim muttered. "Told youse I didn't want to see his dumb thinga-mabob. What a lovely birthday party this is turning out to be." Chris leaned over the box and grinned at us. "It appears that my program works quite nicely!" "Very successful," I muttered. "Indeed," Carrie added. "So, what's the big idea?" Mike asked, summoning as much bravado as an 8-inch person can have in the face of a giant. Chris laughed. "Don't you Godins feel rather cramped, all of you living in this tiny house together? Thought I'd help you all out a bit." We shuddered. "I'm going to poof for a bit here," Chris said, seeming to speak far more loudly than necessary for our tiny ears. "Don't anyone go anywhere, okay?" We heard him step to the dresser and rummage around a bit; then he seemed to be making a phone call. *Telephones. Cell phones.* My mind clicked. "Hey, do any of you guys have a cell phone?" I asked urgently. Carrie and Char both groped in their pockets and found the desired item. "See if you have service," Chad urged, quickly catching on to my idea. As the girls squinted at their tiny phones and punched buttons, Chris' rumbling voice was heard. "Yes sir, the experment was a complete success: everything worked perfectly. I have a wireless connection here, so I'll be sending the program files over to you as soon as I make a few final changes. Thank you, sir. Goodbye." In the chilling silence that followed, Mark spoke up hesitantly. "We have several problems here, as I see it. First, we're far smaller than we ought to be, and we'd like to be returned to our proper size. Probably the only way to do this is to reverse the program's code, restart the program, and stand in front of the laptop again. He must have modified the webcam to emit the molecule-reduction rays." "Yeah, and we've got to stop him from sending the program to...*whoever* that was he was talking to," I broke in. "Definitely doesn't sound good." "Right," Carrie agreed. "So...what are we going to do?"