Resilience
by
Damon Knight
And the Little Man just kept on marching!
"It was here that the Little People made their last stand," said the conductor of the rubberneck bus, looking boredly at the stone ruins. His audience yawned, craned, or just goggled, after the manner of sightseers everywhere.
"Their high-powered projectiles were at this time inflicting some damage," the conductor went on, in a monotone, "so the Army of Conquest, under General Drlnac, retired and starved them out. Their almost incredibly delicate bodies were preserved in the Tzino Museum."
He yawned.
"Bah!" said the General of the Little Men, scowling at his aides. His antennae quivered fiercely. "This is no time for sentimentality! Whether or not this world is inhabited, we shall take it over for the use of our expanding race.
"Besides," he went on, looking up at the deserted barn beside which the Little Army stood, "this structure convinces me that we have to deal with a very low order of mentality. We can expect no great resistance."
He turned. "Onward—march!"
Their metal caps flashing above the dandelion tops, the Little Men moved on.
"Oh, look!" said the girl, pointing excitedly. Metal caps gleamed across the road from their car. "Jim, what are they? Why, there are hundreds of them!"
"Huh? Where?" asked Jim, wiping lipstick off his cheek. "Oh! Well—I'll—be—damned!"
"What are they?" asked the girl, again.
"Elves, or—or gnomes, or something," he said, dazedly. "But there just aren't any of those—I mean, we must be dreaming or something."
"Little, tiny men in sky-blue coats," she said. "It's just like a fairy-tale! See, they even have 'feelers.'
"Jim, I'm afraid," she ended, unreasonably.
He laughed. "What of—them?" "But they're pointing something at us," she said.
It was true. The foremost of the Little Men were aiming tiny, bright tubes at the couple.
Then they turned abruptly around and started off down the road.
"I think they're funny," said Jim, as the last of the column passed. "They look so—so serious and determined. Let's follow them." He pressed the starter.
Then things began to happen. Instead of the powerful, contented purr usually associated with the pressing of that button, there came a series of loud clanks, ending in a louder crash, from the hood of the car.
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