Jerome the Giant goes outdoors

by David Benjamin

Jerome was a giant.

Nobody told him he was a giant, but he figured it out.

Jerome lived indoors and never went out. There were no windows in his house.
If there were windows, the tinies might be able to squeeze inside. They might get hurt.

Jerome had learned a lot from his parents. All the rest he learned from his Magic Mirror.

Jerome’s Magic Mirror fit into his hand. It sprang to life when he touched its face. He learned all about the tinies on his Magic Mirror.

In the whole world, there were hardly any giants. Jerome thought that maybe his was the only giant family. But there were millions and millions of tiny people. He watched them on his Magic Mirror.

The tinies were amazing. They came in all colors and sizes, boys and girls, men and women, in a million different costumes. They played all sorts of sports. They held parades and had fireworks. They had amusement parks with rollercoasters and circuses that made Jerome envious. They built great cities and lovely little towns. Some lived in cozy houses. Others lived in tall buildings which, of course, were probably not even as tall as Jerome.

The world of the tiny people unfolded before Jerome’s wondering eyes on his Magic Mirror. It had rivers and forests, mountains and oceans. The tinies traveled on broad highways on trains, on airplanes and even on space ships that flew toward the stars. And there were animals! Tiny dogs and cats, tiny horses and camels, lions and tigers, bears and elephants. There whales and sharks and tiny giant squids in the vast tiny oceans. It was a wonderful world.

But it also had its troubles. Jerome learned from his Magic Mirror about all the wars that the tinies had waged against one another for thousands of years. He couldn’t understand how the tinies, in a world so beautiful and big, would want to fight over it and kill other tinies.

Yes, but … some of the games Jerome played with tinies on his Magic Mirror were war games. The games were full of shooting and explosions. They were fun. Jerome decided it was okay to kill characters in a game because it was make-believe.

But when he asked tinies, on his Magic Mirror, about why they fought wars, they could not explain. They said they wanted peace, but there was still war. Real war. Not make-believe. Not fun.

Jerome saw it right there on his Magic Mirror.

The tinies didn’t know Jerome was a giant.

He didn’t tell them because they might be afraid.

Jerome knew he could not go outside because he might step on the tinies. That would be murder.

He knew about murder from his Magic Mirror.

He learned almost everything, the good stuff and bad things, on his Magic Mirror.

Of course, his Mom was his teacher. There were books in his house, but most of his lessons were on his Magic Mirror. Most of his fun was there, too.

Jerome couldn’t imagine life without his Magic Mirror.

Once, he asked his Mom if he could go outdoors. His Mom went outdoors. His Dad went outdoors. They went to Work.

“Sometime,” said Jerome’s Mom.

Sometime, thought Jerome, he would learn how to walk—very carefully—in the world without crushing a lot of tiny people under his shoes.

But not yet.

Sometime.

And then, it happened.

Jerome’s Mom was in the kitchen. He heard a boom and Mom cried out. Smoke poured out of the kitchen. The smoke detector went crazy.

Jerome’s Mom grabbed him and pushed him toward the door. She was shouting into her own Magic Mirror.

Jerome thought, oh no! This is a giant house. The tiny firemen can’t put out a giant fire. Jerome’s house would burn down.

Suddenly, his Mom pushed him out the door.

The first thing Jerome saw, his first time outdoors, was a fireman.

But he wasn’t tiny!

He was a giant fireman.

Another giant fireman took hold of Jerome and led him through the smoke, onto a lawn.

(Jerome didn’t know he had a lawn. He looked at the grass. It was beautiful.)

Suddenly, all around the lawn, he saw them. More giants.

Many of them were holding up their own Magic Mirrors, pointing them at Jerome.

They were taking his picture.

Some of the giants came to him. They smiled, they asked “Are you okay?” They gave him water. Someone gave him a giant-size sandwich.

Jerome was terribly worried. What about the tinies? Were are these giants stepping on them? He looked at the ground, he went to his hands and knees.

Where were the tinies?

For a moment, Jerome thought there must be a tiny world—somewhere else. But this was a world of giants. Were there two worlds?

The next moment, he understood.

There’s one world. But he had never lived in it.

He had stayed inside, glued to a Magic Mirror where everything was tiny. He had been living and believing in a tiny world on a tiny screen that flashed and flickered, beeped and dinged, danced and dazzled—coldly—when he touched it.

Jerome stood up. He saw that the firemen had put out a little kitchen fire. They were talking to his Mom. She was smiling.

All around, people were smiling at him, talking to him, telling him everything would be okay.

The best part for Jerome was touching these people—not tinies, not giants, just people—and feeling their touch in return.

They didn’t flash or flicker. They didn’t beep or ding or make noises. They just talked. And when he touched them, they felt warm.