The room turns out to be quite small, appropriately enough. Perhaps they converted a broom cupboard into this high-tech laboratory when headquarters otherwise ran out of space; enough rock below London has been dug out already to facilitate the facility's needs, so space has become a premium of late.
Which is probably why the shrinking machine was invented.
To yours eyes it appears to be nothing more than an astounding array of tubes and piping, intertwined with electrical cables arranged about a central booth with a swivel chair. Blinking lights on a monitor to your left would seem to indicate that it is active.
"Good afternoon, Professor Taylor," Miss Hensley says.
You look about for who she's talking to, as you'd noticed no one else in the chamber when youe entered. Then you follow her gaze, and see the most astounding sight of your long and varied life.
Standing atop one of the horizontal pipes - which, upon this closer inspection, you notice sports a diminutive handrail - is a labcoat wearing gentleman no more than an inch tall. As he waves up at Miss Hensley's imposing form, you can't help 'Fraggle Rock' coming to mind.
"You see," she says, "we're already using this machine to make full use of available space. At some point all employees will be reduced while in this building."
"An exciting prospect, I'm sure," you say, nervous again. "I sit there, then?"
"Of course. Once you're strapped in, Professor Taylor will begin the process."
You sit, and she fastens velcro bands around your chest and limbs, cold metal discs pressing into the skin of your hands and forehead. From the corner of your eye you see Taylor move to a bank of switches and dials that hadn't been visible from a distance.
"Being an inch-tall will be an... interesting experience, I'm sure."
"Oh, we're thinking metric these days," Hensley says as the machine blasts into life.
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