[ WP ] In order to deal with overpopulation new shrinking technology is used to make humanity small .

Am I allowed to respond to my own? I've never posted here! 
 
 Here goes nothing: 
 
 The oral traditions speak of a time of great fear: terror, starvation, catastrophe. We called it “ The Moment ” that time when the choice was between letting go of our comforts and jumping into the great unknown. 
 
 We chose the unknown. 
 I am Ishmael son of Ganar. I am called Slayer by my tribe. This story is about the time I earned that name. 
 
 Our lands were held by four walls about 48 lengths high and many days journey long. The walls were formed from stones made by our ancestors before The Moment; each huge stone laid upon each other in huge stacks of three or four. I could not imagine the power needed to form these, though the Shaman would speak of the magic used often. Each wall separated our lands from the great skies beyond, other lands stretching far into the distant horizon, monuments of our ancestors. In between each monument lay the Abyss: the misty darkness deep below our homes. Only the bravest could peer over those walls into the abyss, but even I could only look so long. Instead I kept my eyes upon my surroundings. The walls were wide, about the width of 20 men standing finger to finger and all over them grew the massive vines and bushes of the jungle. 
 
 I remember the moment well; the spear I held was forged from an ancient relic and extended twice my body length but felt light and strong in my hands. Its blade was not new to breaking chitin and I was confident that day in its power. 
 
 I heard the clicking that we feared above all other sounds. “ Snick, snick, snick ” and spun with my spear before me. Immediately the leaves parted to show the eight glassy mirrors of the Black Widow. We avoided her lair, but she was known to venture forth in search of prey once in a while. Time slowed down and a surge filled my ears. Her speed was incredible; the blur of movement filled my vision. The crash of her eight legs upon the leaf and stone crashed upon my ears. I moved by instinct placing the butt of the spear into a crack beneath my feet and bracing my body against it. I aimed for the break between the armor of her face and the beginning of her eyes. Her weight slammed against the steel and bowed it, but it didn ’ t break, black warm ichor spewed onto me as she plunged deep onto her own death. 
 
 I struggled free from her black mass. Somehow I had survived her assault; her husk twitched and curled, towering above me. I used my spear to push into her body over and over forcing my tired muscles to make sure she stayed dead. In the exaltation of survival I used my remaining strength to severe her bristled head from her carapace. 
 
 I had done what none in living memory had done alone: killed the Black Widow. 

