The Tourist

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handheadcase
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The Tourist

Post by handheadcase » Tue May 16, 2023 12:26 pm

"Attention, passengers: this is your conductor speaking. We have pulled in to Grildrig Station, in sunny Brobdingrag. In about fifteen minutes, we'll be fully stopped. Our crew will assist you in retrieving your bags from the luggage rack, if you have any. If you have any trash, please deposit it into the trash collection near each door. Thank you for selecting Queen Anne Railways. Have a pleasant stay, and we hope to see you again" a male voice said over the loudspeakers.

Marcy gazed dreamily out of the window she was seated next to as the train pulled in to the station. The slight smile that had formed on her lips as soon as they entered Brobdingrag broke out into beaming, giddy smile. She was so excited to finally be here, just like she had always dreamed about, ever since her sixth-grade geography class was asked to read Gulliver's Travels. And now, on the day of her twenty-ninth birthday, she had arrived. Or, rather, she was about to arrive. Thoughts of adventure exploded in her head as she stared out the window at gargantuan flowers, planted strategically around the train tracks. Gigantic flowers and trees became more and more common when the train entered Brobdingrag an hour ago, and had completely overtaken Marcy's field of view as the train got nearer and nearer to Grildrig Station.

She turned her head to her right, smiling at the woman sitting across from her. "We're almost there!" Marcy said, excited. The woman gave her a polite smile and a nod. "Have you ever been to Flanflasnic before?" she asked Marcy. She had an accent from somewhere in Britain, or so Marcy thought.

Marcy shook her head. "This is my first time in Brobdingrag. Flanflasnic seemed like a cute little - or, rather, big! - town to stay in, at least for my first week here! It's where Jonathan Swift sailed to when he first made contact with the Brobdingragians and wrote -" she said, cutting herself off. She calmed herself. No need to talk this stranger's ear off. "Sorry, I know I'm very excited right now. It's my first time here. I've been waiting years for Brobdingrag to approve my travel visa. I just can't believe it's finally happening! Have you been here before?"

The woman nodded. "Oh, yes. I come here for work. This is a routine trip. I'm not staying in Flanflasnic, actually. At least, not for the duration of my trip. I'm just stopping here to meet an old friend, and then they'll take me to Lorbrulgrud tomorrow afternoon."

Marcy eyes widened with wonder. "Wow! Lorbrulgrud! How exciting! I hope to take a day trip there at some point while I am here. The hotels were just too expensive for me. Maybe I'll save more money and stay there next time, if I like it. Anyway, what kind of work do you go to Lorbrulgrud for?" Marcy asked. "And, what was your name? I don't think I caught it."

"Charlotte. Charlotte Johnson" the woman said, offering Marcy her hand. She must have been in her mid 40s or so. Earlier, when Charlotte sat down, Marcy thought she was dressed a little too nicely to sit in second class with her. But, then again, very few humans were traveling to Brobdingrag. Marcy and Charlotte were the only two in this car, so it wasn't unreasonable to save a little money and travel in second class, Marcy thought. After all, with so few other passengers, they had plenty of room back here.

"I'm a professor of English at Carnegie Mellon" Charlotte explained. "I usually come to Brobdrigrag a few times a year for speaking engagements, business, and for vacation. This time, I'm traveling to deliver guest lectures at Lorbrulgrud University. If you come up north to Lorbrulgrud, you ought to swing by the campus. You'd like it, I'm sure. It's awfully majestic at our size" Charlotte said, smiling. The two women laughed.

"Oh, I bet!" Marcy exclaimed. "I'm sure your talks must be fascinating. What are your talks on? I wanted to study English when I went to college, but I ended up studying mechanical engineering, instead. I would have loved to take courses about Swift's book back then!"

Johnson smiled. "It's funny that you mention Swift. I take it you are a fan of his work?"

Marcy nodded. "I've loved his work since we first read it in school. An adventurous land of giants... I've always found it so fascinating."

Johnson pulled her purse into her lap and reached in. She produced a pamphlet and offered it to Marcy. "You see, in academic circles, Swift is considered a bit of a hack." Marcy took the pamphlet and leafed through it.

"What do you mean?" Marcy asked. "I mean, I know Gulliver's Travels isn't considered to be accurate and all..."

"You see, Swift was the very first human to make contact with the Brobdingragian people. And it was, like he says in his book, totally on accident. He was there for less than a year, despite what he said. And, being the first person there, he had to attempt to learn their language himself. Do you speak the language?"

Marcy shook her head. "A little, kind of. I practiced with Duolingo when I got tickets last year."

"Lucky for you, plenty of people in Brobdingrag speak English these days. Some of them speak French, too. The ones who live way up north, near Canada. But they mostly communicate through Flogran, the native tongue, in this province."

"Um, Flogran, right..." Marcy said. She was pretty sure that was the language she selected on Duolingo, though the app just called it Brobdingnagian. She hoped she didn't practice any other more provincial languages instead.

"Anyway. Since he was not an expert in Flogran, and was hardly fluent in it, even after "Glumdalclitch" tried teaching it to him, much of what he wrote down is skewed. Some things are true, and some of them have a grain of truth in them. And the things that are true have changed since he was here all those centuries ago" Johnson continued.

Marcy flipped through the little pamphlet, skimming. She was shocked at what she was reading and what Professor Johnson was saying. Marcy glanced up at her. "It says here that Swift wasn't even -"

"That's correct" Johnson interrupted. "The girl, "Glumdalclitch" did indeed attempt to keep him as a sort of novelty, not unlike a pet. And she did, for a few months. But, from what we can tell, she wasn't the poor daughter of a farmer, and she was older than Swift wrote about her in his book. Based on interviews with her descendants, we think she was likely the second or third daughter of a someone in a middle-tier role in their religion. When Swift washed ashore in his boat, she was actually staying with a prominent cousin at the time. She was out one morning, walking along the beach at the edge of her cousin's manor when she saw the boat and found him. She was probably sixteen or seventeen in our years when she found him on the beach, too. Previously, when we thought she was younger, we excused Swift's poor grasp on Flogran as the result of learning it from a child. But, now we know that she was not only older, but the daughter of a learned man and thus learned herself, so it is more likely that he was a poorer learner than we previously thought. Based on his private journals and documents held in collection by Lorbrulgrud University, we can determine that she actually held him as a captive secretly for several months, keeping him in secret in a box that she hid underneath her bed when she wasn't amusing herself with him. All of the parts of the story about being shown off like a little animal or staying with the royal court were total embellishments. We're confident he rarely left the confines of "Glumdalclitch's" room.

Marcy felt her lips pout. She was shocked by the things this pamphlet and professor were saying. For one, Brobdingragians were scaled differently than Swift suggested.

"You mean he never even met the royal family?" Marcy asked.

"Afraid not. We know that the part of his novel about the royals was meant as satire on British politics at the time. Unfortunately, that's a relatively recent development. For centuries, we attempted to use the novel as a sort of guide to navigating Brobdingrag and its politics. To be honest, that assumption has set back International relations with much of the Anglosphere and Brobdingrag by centuries. It wasn't until the 1900s that we actually recorded contact with British government officials and the Brobdigragian royal court. To wit, a colleague of mine in Gender Studies wrote a seminal book about Swift's work, focusing on that repulsive sequence where Gulliver is sexually abused by several women in the service of the queen. Perhaps you are familiar?"

Marcy nodded. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. She hadn't even noticed that the train was nearing the station, which was massive, accommodating both humans and Brobdingragians.

Johnson smiled. "Well, needless to say, we now think that chapter was something of a sexual fantasy that Swift became fixated upon during his captivity. Some have argued that it's the result of Stockholm syndrome, or that "Glumdalclitch", erm, "had an affair" with him, but I disagree. There's no evidence of that, anywhere, and it’s well known that Brobdingragians have much different standards of modesty than we humans do. If anything, it seems that Swift, like the pervert that he was, misinterpreted casual attitudes towards nudity as something else entirely. So, if any sort of sexual contact occured, it seems that Swift likely tried to initiate it and -"

Johnson stopped, and then smiled again. "Ah, what am I saying. That's something I encourage you to read about. It doesn't exactly make for polite conversation. Fret not. Not everything in that book is a lie. I can assure you that, like any country, Brobdingrag is a wonderful place full of wonderful people. Where are you staying?"

Marcy cleared her throat, attempting to collect herself. She was a bit shaken by everything she just learned. She should have done more research before buying the train ticket...

"I'm staying with a local, actually..." Marcy said, sheepishly. She looked to Professor Johnson's face, to see if she reacted wildly to that statement. She was assured somewhat by Johnson's composure. "It's like, you know, Airbnb? I found a nice looking farmhouse online. And the owners seemed friendly, and had good reviews on travel booking sites. I just thought it would be fun, to stay with giants during my trip."

Johnson nodded. "Yes, that is a fairly popular practice for tourists, especially with enthusiasts of Swift's books. I will be staying with my friend, too. I stay with them so frequently that they have a little cabin prepared, just for me. And you have corresponded with your hosts, yes?"

Marcy looked embarrassed. "Just a little. I know the woman I spoke to online will be meeting me at the station" Marcy said. She glanced to the window, and was shocked to realize that the train was slowing to a halt. She'd been so distracted by her conversation with the professor, she wasn't paying attention to anything else.

"I see. Well, if you booked the place online through a reputable website, you should be fine. Most American and British travel agencies delist houses that aren't welcoming to people at our scale. You should have nothing to worry about."

Marcy swallowed hard and nodded. Yes, reputable. She hoped she picked a reputable site. All of the Brobdingragian websites were so... utilitarian compared to the rest of the internet. She hoped she picked a trustworthy one.

"All passengers: we have just arrived at Grildrig Station. Doors will open momentarily. Enjoy your stay in Flanflasnic" the loudspeakers exclaimed, starting Marcy. She glanced out the window and saw a brick tunnel, with other humans walking around in it.

"Well, it seems that we're just about to disembark. You know all about customs, I'm sure. Not terribly difficult to get through. The ladder can be a real bitch to climb, however."

Marcy laughed a fake laugh, meant more to reassure herself than to flatter Professor Johnson.

"Oh, that wasn't a joke, dear" she said. "Oh, and one other thing: the internet is... restricted somewhat, here. Your phone won't be able to access it at all and you won't be able to make calls unless you go to a public phone kiosk, though the phones scaled for our size are very unreliable. Perhaps the Brobdingragians haven't quite mastered technological miniaturization, yet. If your host has a computer, you might be able to use it."

Johnson glanced at her watch. Marcy, previously optimistic about the trip, suddenly felt frozen in place. She glanced out of the window again, staring at all of the humans milling about, wondering if they knew what she knew. They had to, right? Marcy probably was the only one who came here without doing her homework, and -

"I must get my bag and get through customs. My ride should be here shortly, and I don't want to keep them waiting long. It was a pleasure to meet you, dear. Enjoy your stay!" Johnson said. She promptly walked away, the sound of her footsteps punctuating the quiet car.

"You too..." Marcy said, meekly, as she watched the professor walk away. She felt her heart sink. She should have asked the professor more questions about what to expect, since apparently she knew nothing!

Marcy breathed out sharply, collecting herself. She felt like she had no idea what to expect once she left the train. But she couldn't stay on the train. Her ticket home was dated for the end of the month, and she couldn't afford to get another one for any sooner return voyages. And... she just got here. No point in turning around now, right? If so many humans and the professor felt comfortable here, she could too, she reasoned. This, however, did nothing to alleviate her of the pit that had formed in her stomach.

She walked off the train slowly, each footstep feeling as though she had a ball and chain wrapped around her ankles. She nervously reached for her smartphone in her coat pocket, only to remember that it would not connect to the internet. She had no service, either.

"Shit" she said to herself, before putting it back on her pocket. "I can't believe I didn't know my phone would be useless here before. I really should have done my research." At least I can use it to take pictures, she thought.

She walked out of the train car and towards the end, where her luggage sat, alone. The rest of the few passengers must have already collected theirs and departed. She turned and looked over her shoulder, where several humans were boarding, preparing to go back to America, presumably. They seemed happy, Marcy noted. That must be a good sign.

She grabbed her luggage and then glanced around the little tunnel she found herself in. If she didn't know she was in Brobdingrag, she would have believed this was an underground train station somewhere in America or in Europe. The stone walls were largely unadorned, though a few posters were plastered to the walls. "WATCH WHERE YOU GO" one poster read. Depicted below the text was a human couple, cowering as a Brobdingragian f-

Nope, no, that's enough of that Marcy thought as she looked away. The poster was certainly well meaning, but it was frightening.

An electronic board mentioning travel times and destinations was on the left, near a stairway. Above the stairway was a sign: CUSTOMS. That's where Marcy needed to go.

Marcy sighed, wondering just what she had gotten herself into. This wasn't a fantasy come out of a children's book, after all, she realized as she ascended the stairwell towards Customs.

-----------------------------------

Marcy let out a sigh as she reached the top of the stairs and saw not only a ladder - Johnson was right! - but an elevator, too. She had worried her entire walk up the stairs about how she was going to carry such a large rolling suitcase up a ladder. She certainly wasn't strong enough. Plus, all that walking she did was exhausting. Her calves were already sore. The stairwell alone was like the leaning tower of Pisa on steroids, made harder by her dragging her suitcase behind her. It had taken her a few minutes, at least. She wondered how long.

She walked off to the side of the little room she found herself in and soaked it all in. The room, it appeared, actually next to a gigantic desk, and the ladder and elevator both led straight up to a little glass box on top of the desk. Her jaw dropped as she saw the Brobdingragian customs agent sitting at the gargantuan desk only feet away from her. She quickly tried to picture how the train station and customs desk were set up, and concluded that the train must run parallel to the customs desk, or perhaps below it. The stairway must lead up to this room, which, she gathered, must be at about knee-height for the Brobdingragian, who hunched over a huge desktop, signing some paperwork.

Marcy couldn't help but stare up at the Brobdingragian man, who seemed to be speaking to a human waiting to pass customs. The giant man occasionally glanced up from the paperwork to ask the human a question before nodding or writing something down. The human seemed nonplussed. He must have been here before. Marcy already knew once she got up there in front of him she would be terrified. She felt her knees quake slightly as she thought about it. At her scale, she didn't mind a man in uniform, even if talking to police or different men in authority always made her feel uneasy. But seeing this border control guard, at this scale, scared her on a primal level.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt someone tap her shoulder. For a split second, she feared it was the giant finger of a customs agent, telling her she made a mistake and had to be detained, or that there was something wrong with her ticket. She turned slowly, tensely, and was relieved to see a human woman behind her. She was delighted to see that it was Professor Johnson.

"Wh- you aren't already through security?" Marcy asked, shocked.

"I had stopped in the ladies' room once I got up here. There's only one stall, so there was a line. It seems in the meantime you were able to get up the stairs in record time" Professor Johnson said.

"I, um, um, guess so" Marcy said.

"You look terrified" Johnson said, smiling. "Nervous about customs?"

Marcy nodded.

"Don't worry, it's just like going to a human country. They just want to know how long you'll be here, why you're here. The usual."

Marcy nodded. Johnson flashed her a bit of a patronizing smile.

"Ah, you're a little afraid of him, yes?"

Marcy nodded.

Johnson cocked her head for a moment, and then pointed over her shoulder to a door on the other side of the "room". "Down there" she said. "This desk, the one with the giant man, is for general purpose travel. Business, pleasure, the sort. But down the hall is a government kiosk. It's the one I use, because I travel here on behalf of one of Brobdingrag's public universities. So, because they pay for my travel with public money, I get access. It's quicker - very few humans travel here. And it's a special customs agent, and it always is the same one. Her name is Geddubbor. She speaks good English, and she'll intimidate you less, I think. Come with me".

Professor Johnson grabbed Marcy's arm and led her down to the door. Marcy glanced up at the desk as Johnson led her away. The giant at the desk briefly glanced down at her and Professor Johnson, before returning to the traveler he was conversing with.

Johnson led Marcy through the doors, scanning her way in with a key fob she had on her car keys. "The privileges of traveling on the King's account" she said, as she opened the door and told Marcy to pass through. "Just pretend that you're talking to a human, and answer all of her questions. Ok?"

Marcy nodded as she passed through. This room was more or less the same as the last one, though there was a large window on the other side of the room. She glanced up at the Brobdingragians milling about the train station, and was paralyzed as she saw them casually stomping about across the train station, which was huge. She could only imagine what it would be like to scurry around so close to the floor as the giants went about their business. She thought about the poster, and was glad she didn't have to.

Johnson approached her from behind. "Startling, isn't it? You get used to it. And so do they. Some of them might stare if they don't see humans often..." Johnson said, pointing to a young Brobdingragian woman sitting a few hundred feet away from the customs desk. She must have been waiting for a train, too. A much larger train. She smiled as she spotted Marcy and made eye contact with her, and waved to her.

Marcy paused, and then waved and smiled back. This young Brobdingragian woman was certainly less intimidating than the Brobdingragian guard at the last checkpoint.

Marcy took a step back and then looked up at the customs desk, where Geddubbor sat. She looked to be in her forties, and had strawberry blonde hair, tied back into a bun. Geddubbor smiled pleasantly at the two women, and Johnson waved up at her. "You go first, Marcy" she said. "Geddubbor will want to talk with me, and I could be there all afternoon. Best you get through before I do."

"Ok" Marcy said. She glanced back out the window at the gigantic young woman, who was resting her chin in her palm and watching the little humans scurry around customs with interest, and then walked over to the elevator that led to Geddubbor's desk.

Marcy stepped out of the elevator. Her head felt light as she committed to walking towards the huge Brobdingragian woman, whose hands were clasped calmly, resting on the desk. Marcy focused on them, partly out of fear. Geddubbor's hands were huge. One of them could easily wrap around Marcy's torso and grab her like a doll. She wondered if this is how her old Barbies felt when she prepared to play with them as a child.

By Marcy's estimate, the woman had to be somwhere between forty or fifty feet tall. At least. It was hard to guess, though, since everything below the woman's stomach was obscured by the wall. Erm, the rest of the desk, Marcy realized. It was only a wall to her.

She stared at Geddubbor's nails, which appeared to be well taken care of. Based on Swift's book, she half-expected Geddubbor to look huge, swollen, and for every imperfection to be magnified. Yet, Gerddubbor was rather pleasant looking. Her eyes shifted up to Geddubbor's knuckles, and then to the ring on her finger, and then to-

"Papers?" Geddubbor asked, shocking Marcy out of her trance. She spoke in an accent that Marcy assumed must have been Brobdingragian. Or, perhaps, it was a Flogranian accent. She wondered if other Brobdingragian languages sounded different, and lended themselves to different accents.

"Oh. Papers, um, yes." Marcy reached for her coat pocket and procured her U.S. passport and her Pennsylvanian driver's license, clutching them near her stomach as she stared up awkwardly at the Brobdingragian woman. Geddubbor smiled sweetly at Marcy. "Please set them down in my hand."

Marcy backed up as Geddubbor lifted her left hand and laid it flat on the "floor" in front of her. She stared at it for a moment, and felt an intrusive thought tell her to go climb on Geddubbor's hand or at least run her hands along one of her fingers. Her hand looked so soft and warm. She wondered what it would be like if she was the first person to come to Brobdingrag, and to be grabbed by a Brobdingragian like Geddubbor-

"May I have your papers?" Geddubbor repeated. She flashed another pleasant smile at Marcy, who complied. She walked up to the giant woman's hand and gently set her passport and ID down on the giant woman's palm. She quickly ran her little fingers across the giant woman's palm, who exhaled slightly. A giggle, perhaps. Marcy's touch must have tickled the giantess. Marcy noted that her hand must have been about the size of the tip of Geddubbor's finger as she took a step back.

Geddubbor slowly and carefully carried the miniature documents to her workstation. She grabbed a pair of tweezers with rubber tips on them, and carefully pinched them, one at a time, before setting them down on a little platform underneath a light. She grabbed a magnifying glass about the size of Marcy from a storage box that Marcy could have climbed into, if she wanted. Geddubbor hunched over slightly as she held the magifying glass above her documents, scrutinizing them.

Of course. She probably can't read human-sized text! Marcy thought to herself. Watching Geddubbor inspect the documents was kind of terrifying, and yet fascinating, too. Every breath, slight twitch, or little movement that Geddubbor made seemed so powerful to Marcy. She could have watched Geddubbor work all day.

"So, business or pleasure?" Geddubbor asked. The accent sounded to Marcy like she said busynesse or plea-sure. She stared down at the documents through her magnifying glass, marking up some paperwork with her right hand.

"P-pleasure" Marcy stammered.

"How long?"

"T-three weeks".

"That's quite a long stay." Geddubbor said. Without missing a beat, she suddenly turned to stare at Marcy, positioning the gigantic magnifying glass above her. Geddubbor's green eye was magnified by the magifying glass, making the already intimidating giantess look even more intimidating to Marcy. The great eye darted up and down, seemingly inspecting Marcy from head to toe.

"Tilt your head back, please" Geddubbor ordered. Marcy did as she asked, gulping.

Geddubbor's eye narrowed. "Now turn to your left."

Marcy, again, did as she was asked. The giant woman seemed to be inspecting her in profile, now.

"Do you have anything illegal on your person? Anything you wish to declare?"

Marcy shook her head. Geddubbor retracted her magnifying glass, and put it back in her storage box. She turned her attention to the paperwork again, and then, suddenly, grabbed a large rubber stamp. She slammed it down onto the paperwork suddenly, causing Marcy to jump. She then grabbed the tweezers again, putting Marcy's papers down in front of her quickly.

Geddubbor grabbed the paperwork she was working on, and quickly tore a small section of it off. The scrap had to be at least two feet wide and three feet tall. In the giant woman's hands, it looked like a small ticket. Marcy imagined how much force the giant woman just exerted. Another intrusive thought crossed her mind about what a Brobdingragian could to do the average human, like her. She wondered what happened to humans who were denied entry. Perhaps the customs agents simply picked them up and put them in one of the desk drawers at their workstations?

"Ok, Ms. Carter? Please keep this with you as you travel. It's obviously a large thing for you to carry, so please feel free to fold it and store it in your purse, bag, or luggage." Geddubbor handed the giant scrap of paper to Marcy, who reached out to take it with both hands. She stared down at it with a shocked expression, her mouth agape. The ticket must have been where the stamp was pressed down. She couldn't recognize any of the text, however.


"Enjoy your visit! Exit to my right." Geddubor said.

Marcy tucked the giant ticket under her arm, grabbed her luggage, and began to walk around Geddubor's work station. She glanced once as Geddubbor finished filing her paperwork, and then progressed to the doors about fifty feet or so behind Geddubbor's desk.

-----------------------------------

Marcy lingered in front of the doors before opening them. She peered through the little glass windows on them for a moment. It looked like there was another elevator at the end of a short hallway. She wondered where the elevator went. Actually, she knew where the elevator went. She knew once she got out of it she would be at the train stop. What she wasn't sure about is if this would be a human-sized train stop, or if Brobdingragians would be milling about. She knew that her host was going to be there. At least, she was pretty sure her host would meet her there. She received an email last week indicating that she was to look for a Brobdingragian with a sign with her name on it. Marcy opened the door and walked through. She was surprised to see that the elevator only had an "up" button. She figured she would be going down. At least she felt reassured that she wouldn't be on the ground level with any Brobdingragians stomping around. She hit the button and began to wait.

Marcy wondered how big the sign would be, and how large the text on the sign would be. She hoped that it would be in English. She still couldn't recognize very much of the Flogran alphabet yet. If one could call it that. She hoped she didn't have to look for very long. She also hoped she didn't have to wander around a large platform. Hopefully, there was a convenient human arrivals section, and whoever was going to pick her up would know where to find her.

She would have to find out, she supposed. The elevator arrived a few seconds later. She stepped in. She wondered if humans or giants made the elevator. She imagined to a giant, it would probably be like a large teabox. Marcy remembered that Professor Johnson said Brobdingragians hadn't yet mastered miniaturizing electronics, and concluded it must have been made by humans.

She took a deep breath as she felt the elevator slow. Now was not the time for fear.

The doors opened. Marcy stepped out, staring with wide eyes at the arrival platform. She was shocked to see that she was standing on a concrete platform with a tent-like roof a few dozen feet above her. A few humans were nearby, sitting in chairs affixed to the concrete floor. Or was it some kind of ceiling? She wondered how exactly the building was laid out.

A few Brobdingragian giants stood nearby, some resting their giant arms on railings keeping humans from plummeting off of the side. It appeared that the platform they stood on was just above waist-height for most of the Brobdingragians. Some stood further away, holding signs, scanning the crowd for humans who were there to meet them.

Marcy felt oddly calm as she walked forward, passing by fellow humans as she looked for a good place to look for her contact. She stared up to her right as she passed by a human and a Brobdingragian who were conversing in Flogran. The giant made eye contact with her and smiled at her. Marcy felt a bit nervous. At this scale, it was hard to tell if the smile was meant to be sincere, or predatory. Since the giant was talking so calmly to a human, she assumed it must have been sincere. But she could imagine the same smile being borne by a giant who had spotted a fun new plaything. She wondered if Jonathan Swift ever had that thought, too. She wondered if "Glumdalclitch" gave him a similar smile before she kidnapped him.

Marcy pressed on. She avoided eye contact with any Brobdingragians without signs. She approached an empty spot in the corner of the platform, near a set of industrial stairs that led down to the giant-sized portion of the arrivals platform.

She looked down over the ledge. She saw that the human portion of the platform was only raised slightly, and was perhaps only twenty five-ish or thirty-ish feet above the floor of the giant portion of the platform, which was also raised above the ground. She looked to her left and saw the human train she took departing.

She looked up and began to scan the crowd of Brobdingragians who stood on the platform holding signs. A few of them she glanced at uncertainly. They appeared to be Flogran. She hoped none of those signs were supposed to be for her, because she certainly could not read them. A few giants stared at her inquisitively as she checked out their signs, likely wondering if they were supposed to pick her up. Others ignored her. They were almost certainly aware of who they needed to pick up.

She scanned a few more signs to her left that were in English. She saw signs for Zachary Ramirez, Jessica Waters, Salma Habeeb, Mr. and Mrs. Sierra. But she didn't see any for her.

She quickly did a double take as she glanced at a sign held by a giant at the other end of the human platform. It read "Maurciee Caurterr" in meticulous, cursive handwriting. She hadn't realized it was for her. The sign was decorated, unlike other signs held by giants. Whoever made it decided to take the liberty of doodling around the margins, drawing flowers, birds, and hearts around the borders.

The sign was being held by a young-looking Brobdingragian woman, who only appeared to be about nineteen or twenty years old. Marcy felt her throat tighten as she glanced at the young woman holding it. She was, by far, the youngest of the Brobdingragians present near the human arrival station. Her thick, long, dark hair was draped around her shoulders, and her bangs tickled the rims of the aviator sunglasses she wore. Marcy noticed she was the only Brobdingragian wearing sunglasses. The giantess also wore a black, fitted crop-top, and high-waisted jeans.

This was odd to Marcy because the Brobdingragian woman was dressed, well, like a human. A 21st century American, in fact. The rest of the giants were dressed in some kind of Brobdingragian fashion, which was elaborate and grandiose. It almost looked like modernized fashion from the 17th or 18th centuries, with Brobdingragian women wearing double-layered blouses that more resembled simplified, less restrictive corsets and blouses, while the men wore waistcoat-looking garments over longer shirts.

Marcy turned away from the Brobdingragian woman, hoping she hadn't been caught staring yet. She guessed this young lady was her contact. Or perhaps she was just being sent by her host? Perhaps she was the host's daughter, or something. She tried to remember the name of the proprietor on the website she booked her stay at, but she couldn't recall.

She wondered why her name was misspelled on the sign. She thought about Geddubbor's accent as she glanced quickly at the sign again. She reasoned the sign was written phonetically. "Maur-ciee Caur-terr". Geddubbor pronounced Carter like that, so Maur-ciee must have been how her name sounded to native Flogran speakers. If this young woman made the sign, she must not have the best grasp on English, she thought.

She thought again about Jonathan Swift and "Glumdalclitch" as the pit returned in her stomach. She wondered if this is how he felt as he was whisked away and held captive. She imagined Glumdalclitch, encountering the first human her people had ever seen, giddily reaching for him, and then imagined this Brobdingragian woman reaching for her with the same giddy smile on her face.

But... none of the other giants seemed to act that way towards humans. It'll be fine, Marcy. It'll be fine.

Marcy steeled herself, and then turned back towards the giantess, who was staring blankly at the crowd of humans, waiting for "Maurciee" to come forward. She tried to reassure herself. This kid will take me to her boss or something, and she'll take me to my room at the farmhouse. I'm sure this is normal for a lot of travelers.

Marcy honed in on the giant woman's face as she approached. The Brobdingragian woman tilted her head down as Marcy made her way through the crowd. A goofy, excited smile spread across her face as she watched Marcy approach.

"Are you Marcy?" the giantess asked, staring down at the human woman behind dark shades. With her accent, she pronounced it like she wrote it. Maur-ciee.

Marcy nodded.

The giantess rolled up the sign she was holding and tucked it under her arm. She reached into her pocket and procured a rubber band, which she stretched out with her fingers, pulling it over the rolled poster paper with ease. Once it was securely rolled, she turned her attention back to Marcy.

"My name is Belduning," she said, speaking slowly, as if it made her easier to understand. She seemed to be fluent enough in English that it wasn't awkward or difficult to understand. "You can call me Bella."

Marcy stood there awkwardly, uncertain about how to greet the giant. She tried offering an trembling hand to Bella. Bella giggled, and then reached a gigantic index finger towards Marcy, who wrapped her tiny fingers around it and tried to shake it up and down. The giantess's finger was soft to the touch, and firm. Bella seemed to be physically fit, and Marcy was pushed around the platform slightly as the giant woman moved her hand to "shake" Marcy's hand.

"Is there anything you need to do here? Do you have everything?" Bella asked. Before Marcy could answer, Bella reached one of her hands out. Marcy flinched, afraid that she was about to suddenly be grabbed. To her surprise, Bella grabbed Marcy's rollaway luggage with one of her hands. Marcy's mouth hung open as she watched Bella pick up the luggage with ease. Marcy's bag it tired her out to get up the stairs. Yet, Bella was so large and strong she could tote the bag around with ease.

She held it up to her face in between her fingertips with both hands, inspecting it. She smiled as she turned it over in her hands, looking over the miniature seams, zippers, and wheels with interest. She ran a finger over the polyester lid, and then began to fidget with the extended handle. Bella pushed her gargantuan thumb over the handle, searching for the button that would allow her to collapse the handle back into the luggage.

Marcy gasped as Bella's thumb suddenly squeezed too hard, snapping the handle off at both ends. "Oops!" Bella said, watching the now-broken handle tumble down onto the ground below. She bent down and almost out of view momentarily, her back hovering just above the rail.

She stood back up, holding the now broken luggage in one hand and the broken handle in the other. She glanced down at it, and then tried to put the handle back in. It didn't work.

Undeterred, the giantess simply deposited the broken handle into her left pocket. She then slipped the luggage into her back right pocket, causing it to disappear from Marcy's view.

"Ok, now for you" Bella said.

Marcy suddenly found a large, strong hand grip her. She felt her lower back to her thighs get pressed up against the woman's firm, warm palm as thin, bony fingers wrapped around the right side of her body. Bella's thumb closed the fist, resting just on top of her forefinger. Bella's grip was firm, holding her tightly, securely, and uncomfortably, but not enough to crush her or to squeeze her.

Marcy let out a yelp as Bella rapidly lifted her up to her face, just as she had lifted up her luggage only moments before.

"Wait w-" Marcy exclaimed as she was rushed towards Bella's puckering lips. Bella turned her in her grasp slightly, and kissed the right half of her face. She pulled Marcy away for a moment and kissed the left hand, and then held her at mouth level. "In Brobdingrag, we greet our guests, friends, and family with two kisses, one on each cheek. You'll learn to do it soon, too. Now, let me get a look at you."

Marcy jerked slightly as Bella's fingers began grabbing at her.

Bella turned her this way and that, sometimes holding her firmly round the waist, and sometimes gripping at her legs, arms, or her head. Marcy stopped resisting after only a moment, finding it less painful for the giant woman to twist, contort, and pose her without needing to overcome any resistance. She found herself facing Bella, then the ground, the Bella’s torso, then the train station over and over until she was dizzy. Bella’s hands were overwhelming, too. By the time Bella was satisfied, Marcy felt that she’d been inspected from every angle, head to toe.

“Mmm, ok” Bella said, now holding Marcy just below her breasts, staring down at the tiny woman. Marcy steadied herself (or tried to) by pushing her feet up onto the bottom of Bella’s sternum. “You are so pretty. Come on, I will take you home now.”

Marcy then found herself pushed up against Bella’s stomach. Her face smacked against warm fabric and toned muscle as Bella turned and carried her down several flights of stairs. She approached a bicycle chained to a tree off of the walking path Bella grabbed the rolled-up sign with her left hand and tucked it into a rack below the seat vertically, and then turned towards a large wooden box fastened on top of the handlebars. A metal grate was on the side, providing a makeshift window. Bella unfastened the top with her free hand. She peered in and decided to adjust the interior blanket and pillows that were meant to insulate her passengers from the hard, wooden surface. Satisfied, she held Bella up to her face once more.

“Ok, you go in your carrying box for now. Oh, and, here.” Bella said. She reached into the box and pulled out a little helmet, perfectly sized for a human. She put it on Marcy’s head, pushing it down with her thumb.

“That’s right!” Marcy protested. Bella ignored her as she put her in the box face-down. Marcy rolled up onto her back, looking up at Bella’s smiling face as she shut the box.

Marcy scrambled to the metal grate. While it was thin and flexible to Bella, to Marcy, it was like a sturdy portcullis. She stuck her fingers through the gaps, gripping it tightly. She pulled herself up to her knees and peered out of the grate. She saw Bella’s left hand gripping one of the bike handles and a few Brobdingragians milling about nearby.

Marcy barely had time to collect herself before she felt the bike lurch forward.

-----------------------------------

“Mother! Mother!” Belduning cried out in Flogran as she burst through the front door. “Are you home?”

Solbduldrib sat at her kitchen table, sipping tea as she went over some files. “I am in the kitchen!” she said. “You seem excited.”

Belduning dashed in to the kitchen with an excited smile. She had a box under her arm. “Mother, look!” She hurried the box over the table Soldbuldrib was working at. She turned it so that the grate on the side faced her mother, who hunched her shoulders together and hovered her face inches away from it. She peered inside, but could not see much in the dark.

“Is that your travel box that you made?” Solbduldrib asked. “What have you got in there?”

“I have a tourist. From America!”

Solbdoldrib looked up at her daughter, who buzzed hyperactively at the edge of the table. “Oh, how nice of you to let tourists stay with you during your summer away from university. Let me see them.”

Belduning complied, eagerly unlatching the wooden lid of the box and flinging it open.

Marcy, disheveled from being bounced and thrown around on the bike ride home, looked up at the two giants who peered in at her, gawking at her like she was a new puppy. Both of the were speaking in Flogran, and Marcy couldn’t make anything out except for a few words here or there. What she recognized gave her little insight into the conversation these two Brobdingragians were having, unfortunately. Unlike Bella, the older woman was dressed far nicer, similarly to the other giants at the bus station. It was only Bella who seemed to not conform.

“Oh! What a pretty little thing!” Solbdoldrib said, grinning down at the little human woman, who laid spread eagle in her daughter’s travel box. “She looks like she had quite the fun ride in there!” Solbdoldrib rested her hand on the side of the box. This would have caused Marcy to flinch, if she wasn’t so exhausted.

Belduning made a sound of agreement, staring it at Marcy lovingly. “Her reservation is to stay with me for three weeks. I’m so excited she will be here! I have lots of things planned for her.”

“Oh, what about the British couple? They’re still here, right? I’m sure she’d love to have some other humans to be with during her stay.”

Belduning turned her face away from her mother momentarily. “They went home early. They said there was some kind of emergency, so I took them back to the train station a few days ago. But that’s ok. Maurciee is here for three weeks. I will be sure to give her the best vacation in Brondingrag possible!”

“Oh, alas.” Solbdoldrib shrugged. She didn’t know much about humans. She didn’t speak any English, either. She graduated university right before English, French, and Spanish became course requirements. “Well, I’m sure - Maurciee, was it? - will be eager for you to show her to her room and probably wants to rest. Don’t forget to feed her and bathe her, too.”

“Of course. I won’t forget!” Belduning said, proudly. “And besides, do you know what I did for her? I went to the craft station at the library, and me and Ilynibsun made her some pajamas and some other things, too. She’ll love them as welcome gifts to Brobdingrag!”

“Good” Solbdoldrib said. “You play the role of “glumdalclitch” so easily. Ok, I need to finish my work. Take Maurciee upstairs. And remember, I don’t want any humans running around the house, ok? So make sure she stays in your room if she’s not with you. And make sure you show her the best parts of Brobdingrag. I don’t want you to show her what a rebel like you thinks is good.”

“Of course, mother” Belduning said. She shut the lid of Marcy’s box and grabbed it, hurrying up the stairs to her room.

Marcy groaned as she was shaken about in the box once more. She picked up almost none of that conversation, but she recognized the word “Glumdalclitch”. She didn’t know exactly how that word was being used… but she didn’t like it.

-----------------------------------

Bella put the box on the floor, opening it by pushing the latch open with her toe. She smiled down at Marcy, who seemed terrified when the box opened. Bella didn’t realize this was the first time Marcy had been on the ground-level with any giants. Somehow, being at the feet of a Brobgindragian like Bella was much, much more intimidating than being in her grasp.


The giantess put her hands on her hips playfully. “You don’t want to stay down there, do you?” Get up” she said. It was the first bit of English Marcy had heard since leaving the train station. She nearly didn’t register it as intelligible, figuring that Bella and her mother would speak Flogran during the rest of her stay.

Marcy took the question and command a bit differently. She sat up and backed up against the wall of the box, staring up at Bella with wide, saucer-like eyes.

“Oh, right. You probably need a few minutes to adjust. You’re probably exhausted from travelling all day! Ok. I will be right back. You stay here.” Bella winked at the tiny woman, and then stepped over the box. Marcy nearly thought Bella was going to lift up her foot and squash her before she realized the giantess was walking off.

Marcy sat up further and glanced around the room. Like a lot of Brobdingragian architecture she had seen online and in books, the house was beautiful. She almost wished she had been able to see the exterior as Bella rode up on her bike, though she was too busy trying not to be sick or to bash her head in the box. Bella’s room seemed similarly beautiful, too. But, unlike many of the pictures online, Bella’s room was a little disheveled. Gargantuan posters were tacked to the walls with abandon. Marcy wished she knew what they said. She at least could tell they were band posters. Or they depicted musical artists of some kind. She was unfamiliar with them.

She glanced around further, and saw further mess. The furniture and carpet were very, very nice, matching some of the pictures of Brobdingragian aesthetics she used to post to Tumblr and Pinterest. But it seemed that Bella had decided to put her own spin on things. The bed wasn’t made, and pillows and loose blankets were strewn about haphazardly on the bed, the bench at the foot of the bed, and the floor. The cabinet across the room and the nightstand next to Bella’s bed were cluttered with knicknacks, photographs, books, loose sheets of paper, and pens.

She glanced down at the travel box she had been stowed in earlier. She always thought that’s where Gulliver lived in the book. She didn’t see any human-sized furniture or other boxes in the room… was Bella going to make her sleep in here? She hoped not. This birthday was turning out much differently than she had hoped.

Marcy turned towards the open door that Bella had gone through. She thought about running, trying to make it to Marcy’s mother to ask her to take her to the train station. But she’d never make it. Bella would come back before then, or spot her running down the hall and retrieve her. Before she could contemplate this further, Bella returned. The Brobdingragian smiled down at Marcy, clutching a handful of something in her left hand. Marcy couldn’t tell what.

Bella bent down over the box, pausing to admire the little human. She reached in and grabbed Marcy, who dangled limply from the giantess’s firm grasp. Bella leapt on to her bed, landing on her back and holding Marcy up in the air for a moment.

Marcy surely thought she was going to die when the giantess suddenly leapt on to her bed. She was pleased she was not, yet mortally terrified of what this giantess was going to do next.

Bella then rolled over, still holding Marcy up in the air off the bed, and grabbed a gigantic pillow, resting it in front of her torso. She set Marcy down on the bed near the head, and then propper her elbows up on the pillow, rested her chin in her hands, and kicked her legs up and down behind her. She smiled at Marcy.

“It’s already evening. So I don’t have anything for us planned today. But I have lots of things I want you to do for the rest of the week. We’ll have lots of fun!” she said.

“Bella, I, um, appreciate that. But I already have plans! I made myself a whole itinerary for my trip! It’s on my computer in my luggage. Where is my luggage, anyway…?” Marcy said. She remembered that Bella had slipped her luggage into her back pocket earlier.

Bella must have forgotten, too, because she suddenly pushed herself up off the bed and stood up. She reached in to her back pocket and pulled out Marcy’s suitcase… which had been flattened during the bike ride home. Bella didn’t even seem to notice. She set the luggage down on her nightstand a few feet away from her. Marcy felt a frown form on her lips as she stared at the pulverized suitcase. Maybe some of her clothes were ok, she hoped. She didn’t know anything about what happens when clothing is pressed together with such great force. She hoped her outfits were salvageable, but, deep down, she knew they probably were not. She didn’t even want to check on her computer. Her MacBook was almost certainly nothing but fragments of aluminum, plastic, and glass.

“Forget about your itinerary. When humans come to stay with Bella, I make sure to show them the best that Brobdingrag offers. You could go on guided tours all you want, but that’s no way to experience the real Brobdingrag. I will give you three weeks of the most authentic, real Brobdingrag there is.”

The giant woman turned, walked over to her closet, and suddenly removed her pants. She kept her top on, but awkwardly shuffled her pants down to her ankles and kicked the jeans into the closet, on top of a pile of other clothes. Marcy averted her gaze from the suddenly exposed Brobdingragian derriere, instead glancing at the clothes in the closet. They looked like a mix of “human” fashion, imitating a mix of western clothing styles, and the Brobdingragian fashion she had seen so many other giants wearing during her trip.

Marcy’s eyes nearly popped out of her head when, instead of putting something else on, Bella walked back to the bed and laid down, resuming the same pose she had been in before. Marcy stared at her bare legs, which kicked behind her. Her mind flashed back to her conversation with Professor Johnson, who had made such a fuss about the section of Gulliver’s Travels involving nudity. Johnson was right - Brobdingragians did see modesty much differently than the rest of the world.

“What?” Bella asked. She seemed awfully confused. “Oh, of course. I forget. Humans are so uncomfortable with Brobdingragian customs. Do not worry. You will get used to our ways of life soon enough. “We just like to be comfortable when we are in the privacy of our own homes.”

“Here” Bella said, slowly reaching towards Marcy with both of her hands. She stood Marcy up, and then pinched at her sleeves. “We’ll start with your coat.” Bella alleviated Marcy of her coat quickly and efficiently. Perhaps she had done this before to other humans who had stayed with her. Bella then grabbed Marcy around her waist more gently and pinched her left pump, bending her leg forward. “Shoes, too. No shoes on inside the house.” The right pump followed.

Bella, still grasping Marcy in her hand, deposited her coat and shoes on the nightstand, next to the ruined luggage. “We’ll start here. The dress we can change later.” Marcy felt Bellas index finger rub her no exposed shoulder briefly.

“Now then, since we are comfortable, let us get to know each other. We won’t have fun these three weeks if we don’t. And once you do? Trust me. You will never want to go home. In fact, I know what we can do first.” Bella sat up, crossing her legs tailor style, before sitting Marcy on her knee. Bella’s long fingers stroked at Marcy’s bare legs idly, as Marcy tried to ignore the sensation of touch she was suddenly being subject to. “We’ll start like you are Gulliver. I’ll teach you some Flogran. But only the important parts today.”

potyzeff
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Re: The Tourist

Post by potyzeff » Wed May 17, 2023 8:10 pm

Love that start!

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Re: The Tourist

Post by goodshrnker » Thu May 18, 2023 7:21 am

Great story so far! Can't wait to see where it goes.

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Re: The Tourist

Post by DocRick » Fri May 19, 2023 2:18 pm

Great story. Sent you a PM.

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