in which hugeness figures prominently
I was in a science class on a field trip out in an actual field, with an expert in whatever we were studying. Suddenly the sun was blocked by a dark cloud. I looked up, and it was not a cloud, but an impossibly gargantuan sky whale as wide and long as a football field, massive tail flapping lazily through a cloudbank. Before I could even react, something dropped from the whale’s back and plummeted toward us, pulling up only slightly at the last second- it was a young man in a strange metallic coat that somehow *reached out* and braced his fall, leaving him unhurt. He said it was a “sharp jacket” and that we would all be trained to use one if we joined his organization.
I was an astronaut. I was cybernetically linked into the systems of the vessel, so that in effect, I *was* the ship. The ship was in a large docking bay, and I was using the external cameras to scan the ship’s surface for flaws. As the camera panned over the forward viewport, I saw the reflection of my face writ huge across it, as if I were a giant holding the ship in my hands. As my mind struggled to grasp this impossibility, there was a distinct *knock* on the outer hatch of the docking bay, as of something… or someone, about to enter.