Jade lounged on her thrift-store couch, a cloud of smoke curling from the joint dangling between her fingers. She exhaled languidly, watching the tendrils dissipate into the dim lighting of her apartment. The modest living space was a shrine to controlled chaos—posters of old horror movies and psychedelic art covered the walls, shelves cluttered with vinyl records, half-burned candles, and random trinkets she had picked up from thrift shops. A lava lamp rested on the side table, casting blobs of slow-moving light against the walls. Her pet ball python, Ozzy, was coiled lazily in his terrarium, flicking his tongue at her before settling into a nap. Jade’s roommate often joked that the snake was living proof that pets adopted the characteristics of their owners.
Jade stretched, yawning as she shifted on the couch, with one leg splayed out over the armrest. Her black-and-green split-dyed hair was a tangled mess, as she hadn’t brushed it in days. A faded band tee clung loosely to her frame, its once-bold logo now barely visible, and her cut-off denim shorts were layered over ripped tights that had seen better days. She looked like the physical embodiment of “I’ll do it later.” Her grungy surroundings were a result of the sad fact that she hadn’t done much besides smoke, snack, and scroll through her phone all day. The only light in the room came from the TV playing an old sci-fi movie on mute and the soft glow of the streetlights filtering through her blinds.
She reached for a Pop-Tart on the glass coffee table in front of her, but as her hand moved, she picked up something new in her peripheral vision. At first she dismissed it as the latest in a series of art projects left behind by her roommate, Cass, but there was something different about it. Maybe it was the shape? She sat upright and glanced over to examine it, her stoned brain filtering her surroundings through a disoriented haze.
Jade squinted, her brown eyes heavy-lidded as she blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. As her face drew closer, her heart skipped a beat. Even without being able to make out all the details, there was movement—actual, deliberate movement. It wasn’t some weird trick of the light. She learned in closer, spellbound by her curiosity.
By all accounts, it was an ordinary city– just impossibly small. It was about the width of a pizza box all around. Perfectly constructed, intricate, and unmistakably real, sitting there on her coffee table like some kind of cosmic glitch. Little skyscrapers, winding roads, and boroughs laid out in meticulous detail. The tiny buildings boasted intricate facades with windows, some of which even had what looked like electronic signs. There were thousands of moving cars and trucks—microscopic things that zipped down their tiny streets.
And, of course, there were people.
Little specks, barely distinguishable, milling about like insects. Living.
Jade’s bloodshot eyes widened. She didn’t speak at first, just stared, watching the minuscule world go about its existence. A sports car cruised across a bridge, passing by a cluster of figures who strolled near an intersection. Maybe pedestrians? Her stomach flipped.
She rubbed her eyes, squeezed them shut for a second, then opened them again. Still there.
“What the hell…” she mumbled under her breath.
She leaned in, close enough that she swore she could feel the tiniest pulse of warmth from the city. A trick of the mind, surely. But the more she stared, the more wrong it felt. Like something she was never supposed to see. Some cosmic error had dumped this thing in her lap, and she had no idea what to do with it.
Jade’s fingers hovered over it trepidatiously. She almost didn’t want to touch it, for if she did, that would make it real. She hesitated—then, slowly, poked a building on the very edge of the city, feeling an instant pang of regret as she did so.
Something moved—no, a lot of things moved. A skyscraper toppled. Little specks scattered in its wake like startled insects. Cars swerved wildly, crashing into one another. And then—was that sound? Faint. High-pitched. Almost like… screaming? A whole population had been suddenly thrown into chaos at the mere prodding of her finger.
Jade sat back, breathing a little harder now. The room suddenly felt too quiet, save for the faint hum of her lava lamp. She pulled her knees up onto the couch, staring at the city, half-expecting it to blink out of existence if she looked away. But it didn’t.
This couldn’t be real, could it? The weed was laced with something else, maybe? In any case, she needed to test this further.
Her movements were slower now, more deliberate. She reached for the bitten Pop-Tart and broke off a crumb, holding it above what Jade assumed passed for the tiny skyline. She hesitated. The little things down there—people—were already scrambling in random directions. They had no idea what she was about to do.
Then she let it fall.
The reaction, just like before, was instant.
The comparatively massive chunk of food crashed into the outskirts of the city, demolishing a section of tiny buildings. Dust—actual dust—rose up from the impact, and the tiny people began to run in all directions. Little cars skidded out of control, specks of movement scattering in every direction. It was absolute chaos. All stemming from the simplest, most effortless action.
Jade bit her lip, horrified and fascinated in equal measure. “Oh my god,” she muttered, gripping the couch cushion. “This can’t be happening…”
Her phone dinged with a text from Cass.
[cass]: u home? stopped at Citgo for food if you want anything
[jade]: yeah i’m home, also u need to get here like NOW, i found some crazy shit
[cass]: if ur high af and making me come home just to watch conspiracy vids again i swear to god lmfao
[jade]: nah bro it’s serious just hurry tf up
She set her phone down and turned back to the city. The tiny people were still reacting to the Pop-Tart crumb, some attempting to move it, while others remained fixated on her, their microscopic faces turned toward the sky.
This wasn’t just weird. It was something else entirely. All she could do was gawk.
Jade flinched as she heard the latch finally unlock a couple of minutes later, breaking her concentration. She was still sitting stiffly, eyes locked on the city like it might change if she looked away.
The door swung open, and in came Cass, half-shrugged out of an oversized black hoodie, her bleached bob a jagged mess, like she’d hacked at it herself with dull scissors—probably while drunk. She carelessly kicked off her boots mid-step, barely aiming for the door mat, and dropped a gas station bag of snacks onto the table like an offering. Her chipped black nail polish matched the unimpressed arch of her brow. “Okay, you’re being weird. What’s with you?
Jade gestured stiffly at the table. “Look.”
Cass followed her gaze, took a step closer—then stopped cold. Her eyebrows twitched together. “What am I looking at?”
Jade began to sweat, running a hand through her hair. “A city. A real, tiny city. It just—appeared.”
Cass’s eyes darted between Jade and the table. She opened her mouth, closed it again. Then, finally, she let out a short, nervous laugh. “Okay, what?”
Jade shook her head. “I thought I was just high, but it’s real. I—I touched it, and they reacted. I dropped something, and it actually crushed buildings. Cass, it’s real.”
Cass inched closer, gaze locked on the tiny streets, the minuscule movement. Her fingers flexed slightly. “No fucking way.”
Then, slowly, a smile began to spread across her face. “Holy shit,” she remarked. “That’s actually insane.”
Cass plopped down next to her, still staring. Then, after a long moment, she rummaged through her bag and pulled out a small magnifying glass. “Hold up,” she muttered, adjusting her grip. “We gotta get a better look.”
Jade blinked at her. “You just carry a magnifying glass?”
Cass shrugged at her friend. “Stole it from my sister’s kid to look at bugs.” She lowered it toward the city, upgrading her purview with a much greater level of detail.
“Speaking of, dude, look at this. They’re running around like fuckin’ ants.”
And just like that, whatever hesitation Jade had was fading. The two of them watched in fascination, letting the moment stretch. The tiny people weren’t going anywhere. And now that they knew they were real? Well, Jade and Cass had all the time in the world to see what happened next. Neither of them had held down a job in months, and their list of responsibilities wasn’t exactly overwhelming.
Jade and Cass sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes fixed on the minuscule city spread across the coffee table at eye level. The glow of the lava lamp bathed everything in warm, shifting colors, the surreal atmosphere only amplifying the impossible reality before them. Cass absently licked Dorito dust from her fingers, her eyes gleaming with curiosity and something darker—amusement.
“So,” she said, tapping a nail against the glass rim of a half-finished soda. “What exactly do we do with them?”
Jade squirmed nervously. “I mean… shouldn’t we, like, figure out what the hell this even is?”
Cass gave her a sideways look. “And how do you suggest we do that? Fuckin’ ask them? ‘Hey guys, what’s up? How’d you get here? Enjoying the view?’”
Jade sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair. “I don’t know—but you’re acting like it’s some free toy we found on the side of the road.”
Cass giggled, leaning closer to the city, her breath fogging up a section of the table. “I meeean… isn’t it?”
Cass pushed a strand of bleached hair out of her face, continuing: “Alright. Say this is real—like, actually real. Not some weird hallucination. Then doesn’t that make us…” She trailed off, raising her brows.
Jade frowned, but when she met Cass’s eyes, the realization sank in. She didn’t like the way it made her stomach tighten.
“…Gods?” Jade muttered, sounding reluctant to even say the word.
Cass’ eyes sparkled at the thought. “Exactly. Well, actually, no. Technically we'd be goddesses."
She sat back, stretching her arms over her head as she continued. “But the point is, we can do whatever we want, J. No one’s stopping us. We own them.”
Jade swallowed. “That’s kinda fucked up.”
Cass snorted. “Uh, yeah? I mean, I guess, but, like… tell me you’re not at least curious.”
Jade hesitated. “Curious about what?”
Cass’s roguish grin widened. “Ya know... what we can make them do.”
Jade let the words sink in. The weight of them.
She glanced back down at the tiny city, imagining the sheer scale of the difference. How easy it would be to shape their entire world on a whim.
“…Like what?” Jade asked cautiously.
Cass’s expression turned thoughtful, her index finger dramatically tapping against her chin. “Mm, I dunno. We could always just start small. Maybe make them build something for us. A statue, maybe?”
Jade made a face. “A statue? Of what?”
Cass scoffed, as if dumbfounded by the naivete of her question. “Of us, obviously.”
Jade groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my god.”
Cass began to giggle in anticipatory delight. “What? C’mon, wouldn’t it be hilarious?”
Jade stared at the city, her mind racing. “…I mean. I guess? Sounds kinda dictatory.”
Cass leaned forward again, watching the little figures still huddled near their construction vehicles, either oblivious to or uninterested in her roommate's hesitance. “Alright. So how do we make them understand?”
Jade exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “Dude, I have no idea. This is a lot, honestly, and I'm baked off Mel's new stuff. You should try some.”
If Cass had heard the offer, she didn’t acknowledge it. She tapped an inky black fingernail against the side of the glass tabletop, gears turning in her no-doubt hazy mind.
“Maybe we draw something?”
Jade raised a brow. “Draw?”
Cass grabbed a greasy napkin from the snack pile and found a pen, quickly sketching a crude stick figure with arms raised in worship. Then, beside it, she drew a much larger version of the same figure.
Jade’s lips twitched, her discomfort almost giving way to laughter. “Girl, that is the worst drawing I have ever seen. Like, not even exaggerating.”
Cass only smiled, undeterred as she tilted the napkin toward the city. “Yeah, well, let’s see if it’s enough for them to get the message.”
She carefully placed it near the outskirts of the city, pinning it down with a spare bottle cap so it wouldn’t blow away. Then, she sat back and waited to see if the makeshift billboard worked as intended.
Jade leaned in, watching closely. “Think they’ll actually be able to understand?”
Cass studied her doodle bemusedly, crossing her arms. “Guess we’ll find out.”
The city below was silent. The tiny people had frozen, their fate dangling in the balance of two women who had no real idea what they were doing. And yet, the longer Jade looked at them, the more she could feel it—the quiet, mounting dread of an entire civilization realizing it was no longer in control of itself. She shivered, but didn’t look away.
Jade and Cass sat in expectant silence, their eyes locked onto the tiny city as the crude napkin illustration fluttered slightly under the weight of the bottle cap. The tiny people weren’t moving much. A few flickers of activity—cars shifting in place, little specks darting back and forth—but there was no immediate reaction.
Jade exhaled sharply, rubbing at her temple. “Alright, at this point I think it’s safe to say they didn’t like your picture.”
Cass scoffed, steepling her fingers in anticipation. “Or maybe they’re just a little intimidated. Star-struck, now that they know gods like us exist.”
Jade shifted uncomfortably, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t sure she liked that word. Gods. It felt heavy, even in a joking way. But Cass said it so casually, so effortlessly, like she’d already decided this wasn’t some weird dream or a drug-induced hallucination. Like it was just fact.
"Okay, new plan… I wonder if they can move stuff" Cass mused aloud.
Jade narrowed her eyes. "Cass…"
Cass ignored her. She reached for a stray crumb from the broken Pop-Tart Jade had left on the table and carefully placed it down near a cluster of tiny buildings.
"Let’s see how well they can clean up after themselves."
At first, nothing happened. Then, just like before, the tiny people seemed mired in indecision. A few of them cautiously approached the crumb, as if assessing the risk.
Jade exhaled, relieved. "See? They're thinking. They're real, Cass."
"Yeah, duh! And real things react!" Cass leaned forward, impulsively reaching for the tabletop.
Before Jade could stop her, Cass pressed a single fingertip onto one of the cars, dragging it an inch across the city. Tiny figures dove out of the way as the vehicle skidded sideways, knocking over a lamppost.
Jade winced. "Cass!"
"Whaaat? I barely touched it." Cass lifted her finger, watching the car's crumpled frame. She let out a soft, amused laugh. "Damn, these things break easy. More fragile than a model."
Jade felt the unease creep up her spine. She wanted to say something, but Cass’s eyes gleamed with something else now. Something hungry.
Minutes passed. The little people still hadn’t responded.
Cass sighed antsily. “Ugh. Goddamn, nothing’s working..” She reached for the magnifying glass again, bringing it close to scan the tiny scene. “C’mon, dudes. Show us something, at least.”
The woman adjusted her position, stretching one leg onto the couch. The sudden motion bumped the table, causing another building to crumble instantly down to its foundations. It wasn’t much—one of the smaller ones, maybe a factory or a warehouse—but the effect was immediate. People ran. Cars veered off the road. A dust plume rose into the air from the building’s footprint in a thick, dirty cloud.
Jade’s pulse spiked at the site of it. It reminded her of footage of terrorist attacks she’d seen. "Cass, what the fuck?"
"Dude, did you see that?" She excitedly gestured at the wreckage. "It just—collapsed. Like, full-on movie explosion."
It was clear her roommate wasn’t feeling the same way about all this.
"Okay, okay," Cass giggled, dabbing at her eyes. "Still, it’s weird they’re not doing much yet."
Jade leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “They’re probably still freaking out.”
“Sure, sure. You know what might make them pay a bit more attention, though?”
Jade shot her a wary look. “…You’re about to say something fucked up, aren’t you?”
Cass grinned playfully, biting into another chip as she lifted her foot onto the edge of the table. She peeled off her sock, rolling it off her ankle and quickly balling it up in one hand.
“I mean,” she mused, twirling the sock between her fingers, “we already know they can move stuff around. What if we give them some motivation?” She wiggled her toes in the air excitedly, as if to punctuate the point.
Jade grimaced. “Cass, you’re being gross. And maybe don’t—”
But before she could finish, Cass casually flicked her wrist, sending the pink sock tumbling down toward the edge of the city like a cotton meteor. Jade winced, but her protest died in her throat. What was she going to do, grab the sock out of the air? It was too late now. She exhaled sharply, sinking back against the couch as Cass leaned in, enraptured.
The well-worn sock landed with a muted thump—to Cass, anyway. To the tiny denizens below, the impact sent tremors throughout the outskirts of the miniaturized cityscape. Towers buckled as hundreds of panes of glass splintered, sending a lethal hail of razor-thin shards raining down amidst the debris. The thick fabric slumped over entire blocks like an avalanche, trapping hundreds under its suffocating weight. Dozens of cars skidded, veering wildly, before disappearing into the fabric’s sweaty folds like insects caught in a web. A massive crater now marked the site of the impact like a deep scar.
Cass snickered at her handiwork. “Oh my god, that’s amazing. It’s so… what’s the word? Reactive? Like, the way things break in video games?”
Jade let out a low breath, watching as the tiny people scrambled around the impact site. “Okay, that might’ve been a little much. Can you ease back a little?”
Cass rolled her eyes, picking up the magnifying glass again. “Relax. I’m just experimenting.” Her gaze snapped back to the scene; detached, yet riveted with a morbid fascination. “Dude, they’re treating it like a disaster zone.”
Jade dragged a hand down her face. She wanted to argue, but her mouth stayed shut. “I mean… yeah? To them, it is a disaster.”
Cass hummed, clearly unbothered, tapping the edge of the table with one black-polished fingernail. “I wonder if they’ll try to move it.”
Jade huffed a humorless laugh, but it came out wrong—too thin, too forced. She watched the tiny people scrambling beneath the crumpled sock and felt… something. Guilt? No way. She hadn’t done anything cruel compared to what Cass just did. She shoved the thought away and reached for the joint again.
Cass propped her chin on one hand, gleefully watching the chaos unfold. “They should thank me, honestly. That’s, like, the softest goddamn apocalypse they could’ve gotten.”
Jade watched as tiny figures stumble over each other to escape the collapsing structures. It felt different now—worse. “I don’t know, dude, maybe we should chill a little.”
Cass rolled her eyes, grinning. “Aw, come on, J. You’re not getting all soft on me, are you?” She pushed Jade’s shoulder playfully. “We’re just messing around.”
Jade nodded slowly, anxiously nibbling on her lip. “Yeah,” she muttered, not quite convincing even herself. “Just messing around.”
The scene before them was mesmerizing and felt deeply, deeply wrong. Yet she couldn’t look away, and, if she was honest with herself… she wasn’t sure she wanted to. It wasn’t like they could do anything to help these people, anyway. The circumstances of the tiny city’s arrival already defied understanding. How could they be expected to fix it?
After several long moments of quiet contemplation, Jade noticed something different. A shift in the movement patterns of the tiny people. Before, they had been scattered, running aimlessly, reacting to the disaster. But now, something was changing. Where once there had only been chaos and the reaction to it, there was now an emerging sign of purpose. A definite direction.
Jade pointed at a section of the ruins they had created. “Look at that.”
Cass leaned forward, bringing the magnifying glass closer. “Huh. What are they—” She stopped mid-sentence, watching as clusters of tiny construction vehicles trawled toward the rubble. Not frantically like before—deliberately. Coordinated. Dozens of them.
Jade swallowed. “They’re… building something, looks like?”
Cass was still gazing intently downward, but her stoned amusement started to sharpen into something more calculating. “Or pleading,” the woman theorized, as if hopeful.
The tiny construction vehicles seemed to hesitate at first, as if reacting in real-time to the dialogue of the women who loomed over them. Some of them moved forward, then stopped, as if waiting—afraid. Jade could almost imagine them debating. To them, she imagined this was a major gamble— they couldn’t be sure if their newfound deities would heed their message, or simply punish them for trying. Jade squinted, hunting for details that might clue her in to their exact intentions. She couldn’t help but marvel at their machinations: shifting the tiny mounds of debris into place was an agonizingly slow process, yet either of the two women watching could wipe away their work with another careless motion.
Jade softly nudged Cass, her voice barely above a whisper. “Look.”
Cass peered through the magnifying glass in awe, her lips parting slightly. “The fuck…?”
Dust drifted in the air like smoke as the tiny vehicles arranged the rubble. Not randomly. Purposefully. Jade swallowed, heart climbing into her throat.
H.
A single letter, scraped into the ruins of their world.
E.
Cass let out a short scoff—disbelief masking something else. Something dawning.
L.
Jade clenched her hands into fists, fingernail biting into her palms.
P.
Her breath caught. A sharp, ice-cold wave washed over her skin as she read the nearly completed message. The final letter—P—was formed slower than the rest, like they were afraid to finish it. Afraid of what would happen if they acknowledged the truth.
HELP.
The simple word was carved into the ruins of their world, an open wound bleeding into the skyline. Her stomach twisted violently. Her lungs felt too tight. This was a conversation– and the city had just answered. Jade knew, instinctively, that they had just witnessed something historic.
A first contact. A plea. It was in English, confirming they could understand everything that had been said thus far. A civilization, barely the size of a pizza box, had heard them, processed their words, and was now pleading for its survival. The guilt was growing.
Cass, on the other hand, was beaming. She let out a breathy gasp—sharp and drenched with amusement.
“Oh my fuck,” the bleached blond punk whispered. The amusement in her voice was thick now, unmistakable. Her grip tightened around the magnifying glass, knuckles going white. She slowly nodded her head, processing, before a smirk swept across her face. “They’re actually begging.”
Jade took another slow drag, but the smoke did nothing to settle the tightness in her chest. She felt compelled to say something— anything, to stop her friend before she escalated. But the words died in her throat, aborted by her apprehension. Cass would just mock her. She always did. Jade’s fingers dug into her thighs, nails leaving half-moon indentations in her skin. Her throat was dry. The forced laugh that finally escaped was artificial. Brittle. Wrong.
"Jesus," was all she could squeak out. She hated how small her voice sounded.
Cass plucked the blunt from Jade’s fingers, taking a long, slow drag. The smoke curled past her lips, indulgent—like she was tasting something new and savoring the power of it. She stretched, rolling her shoulders as chip crumbs tumbled from her shirt to the floor, unnoticed, as she rose.
“Nah. He’s not here right now.”
Cass paused, holding the blunt out in front of her. For a moment, Jade thought she might hand it back to her. Instead, she tilted her head—thoughtful, amused—before flicking it with a lazy snap of her wrist. A small, casual movement. Yet below, the world trembled. The embers rained down like falling stars, igniting upon impact. Fiery wrath from the heavens above. From this height, the screams were still too faint to hear. Cass exhaled, watching the destruction spread. Her lips curled into their signature smirk.
“Just us.”