We Went to the Microzoo

The biggest attraction at the microzoo was, of course, the tardigrade. Guests would come from all over the world to be shrunken down to size, their hands now small against the metal poles that separated the micro-animals from their guests, and marvel at this strange, slow creature, its body like a wormy cloud. They would throw miniaturized peanuts into its pen, whistle at it, call for it by name—Piglet—as if it were a lion, or giraffe, or wild coyote at the local zoo. And the tardigrade would ignore them, moving as if it were submerged in water, its body coming so close to the poles you could almost touch it—but always your hand would retreat before doing so, as if repelled by something on the tardigrade’s skin.

Read more at Lammergeier.