"Madeline, no." Penelope lightly slapped her daughter's hand as she plucked the block of chocolate from the shelf. Madeline's blonde ringlets bounced as her head snapped around to deliver a withering glare to her mother, but she had already taken another few emphatic steps down the aisle.
"Very well, Mother, but what's the point of being seen among the subjects if we aren't at least going to pretend to do as they do?" The young lady couldn't keep the pout from her voice as she slid back into step beside Penelope, elegant hand silently slipping the chocolate into the shopping basket without a sound.
"Because, Madeline, they do not subsist purely on candy and confectionery; particularly not in times like this. Besides, you consume enough sweets at home to rot a lifetime of human teeth; you're nearly twenty-one cycles old after all. It is high time you learned to pay attention to the world around you and learn how the subjects truly live, so that you may play your part better in the future."
"Ah yes, 'my part'; how am I supposed to do anything for any of the subjects if you keep me in an endless cycle of observation without any true interaction?"
"Do not try to disguise your selfish greed as concern, Madeline; Mother knows what you really want."
As the pair rounded the end of the aisle, the sound of rattling wheels and squeaking tiles was all the warning they got before a fully stocked trolley slammed into the end of the shelves. The employee pushing the trolley had narrowly avoided bowling Penelope over by diverting the overladen thing squarely into the shelves at the last second, though not in time to stop one of the tightly packed jam-jars from tumbling down to the ground. His expression was horrified as the glass struck the floor inches from Madeline's shoe.
Mercifully, the jar remained in-tact, save for the lid popping clean off. Unfortunately, the spray of red liquid from within was more than enough to spatter across the young woman's polished, bone-coloured pump.
"Oh God! I'm so sorry, are you alright? Hell's bells, whoever stacked this put way too much on, I lost control." The clerk stepped around the end of the trolley to check on the pair, his expression one of pure concern behind the white face-mask as he looked them up and down.
"You ought to pay more attention to your surroundings; fortunately for you, we are unharmed." Penelope replied with an unfazed tone, her smile not so much as flickering as relief washed over the clerk's face. He sank to one knee, plucking a cleaning rag from his belt as he moved to wipe up the jam. He paused as he noticed the spatter on Madeline's foot and he winced, glancing up at her apologetically.
"My apologies, would you like me to clean this off for you?"
"Certainly, good sir." Madeline responded, eyes twinkling with undisguised delight. Her voice carried none of the petulant irritation she had used with her mother. She slid her foot forwards as the clerk bent further down, squirting the tip of the young lady's shoe with disinfectant spray before wiping the mess off, giving one last squirt for good measure once the rag was gone. He appeared to be quite handsome from what she could see beneath the protective gear; Madeline couldn't keep the broad smile off her face. Penelope watched on in quiet disapproval until the clerk was back on his feet.
Even as he rose, a voice split the air like a hand grenade.
"Baxter! What in the blazes do you think you're doing; get away from those two, you know the rules!" A stocky fellow with forearms like slabs of raw beef stormed up the aisle, their leathery skin beet-red beneath the white cotton of their face-mask.
"Sorry Mr. Roach, there was-"
"Damn it boy; do you want to get us fined? One point five meters at all times! And look at the shelf; this is unacceptable, Baxter."
"Sorry, Sir."
Penelope didn't stick around for the conversation, choosing instead to steer Madeline down the next aisle without a word. Madeline on the other hand was very interested in the conversation, watching through narrowed eyes as the squat little powder-keg jabbed a meaty finger aggressively at the taller man. Baxter tried his best to remain composed, but Madeline could see the distress etched across his brow. Her gaze fell upon Mr. Roach, the red of her pupils like pools of wet blood as she scowled.
"Madeline, no." Penelope chided, as if in response to her daughter's unspoken thoughts.
"But Mother, he is so sweet! He's just trying to do his job, and that boorish oaf is treating him like garbage! Please let me-"
"Again, no. He was sweet to you because that is, as you say, his job. The subjects perform all sorts of roles; his role is to make customers happy and encourage them to spend their resources here. His master has every right to tell him off if he is doing an unsatisfactory job.
"But if his role is to make customers happy, he is doing a good job, surely? He made me happy." The pair were out of sight now, though Madeline tried to catch a glimpse through the shelves.
"I do not have the time nor inclination to explain the minutiae of customer service to you right now, Madeline. Come, cast him from your mind."
Minutes passed as the pair continued to collect their very normal, thoroughly unassuming collection of groceries. Penelope did her best to try and keep Madeline's attention focused on their task, but her daughter's wandering attention turned with inevitable consistency back to Baxter and Mr. Roach. The young lady could see them periodically as they wandered the largely deserted shop floor, and each time she beheld the poor bedraggled Baxter trying to perform his duties under the scrutinous critique of Roach, her resolve hardened to act.
"Mother, please allow me to shrink him." She said, looking up beseechingly at her parent. Penelope turned her head sharply towards her daughter, her expression severe.
"Absolutely not, Madeline; we do not get involved with the subjects over such trivial things."
Madeline's eyes widened as she gently clutched Penelope's elbow, adopting her best sorrowful expression.
"But Mother, look at them; that blunderous buffoon is doing nothing but be cruel and nasty to that sweet young man! Is it not our responsibility to ensure the subjects are happy and prosperous?"
"On a global scale, Madeline; we are above such meaningless disputes, and we certainly do not start shrinking random subjects just because of base impulses."
"Very well, Mother." The young lady replied, watching out of the corner of her eye as Baxter and Roach disappeared down the cleaning aisle. She allowed a few seconds to go by before she cleared her throat and checked the shopping list. "If I recall correctly, we needed to get more soap did we not? I shall fetch some for you."
"Good girl, Madeline; I shall leave it up to you to decide on the specifics."
The blonde beamed as she nodded, practically skipping off down the shopping floor until she had reached the aisle in question. Glancing back over her shoulder to ensure Mother was not paying attention, Madeline's lips pulled back into a toothy grin. Strolling casually down the row of brightly colored products, she feigned interest in the random assortment of objects the subjects used to scrub their homes with as she focused on her true goal out of the corner of her eye.
Roach and his subordinate stood just a short distance away; the squat man's words clipped and direct as he bullied Baxter about. Madeline's lips curled imperceptibly in disdain; she couldn't act while they were together. She had to wait until Roach wandered off before she could make her move. Inhaling softly, Madeline stretched out into the neighboring aisle with her conscious perceptions and flexed a tiny fraction of her will. The sharp, cracking impact of shattering glass made the ruddy-faced man turn on his heel and let out a groan of exasperation.
"Ugh, it never ends." He grumbled, storming down the aisle, giving a polite nod to Madeline as he passed by. "Pardon me ma'am, just need to take care of a little problem."
As do I, Madeline thought as she watched him go, a sense of excited anticipation flooding her as she trotted briskly over to Baxter. The kneeling man turned and looked up at her as she approached, his eyebrows raised.
"Hello again!" He said brightly, "Did you need something else?"
"Shh!" Madeline whispered, hushing him as she squatted down beside the man. "Let me just..."
Focusing her will once more, the young lady wrapped Baxter up in a ball of concentrated power and rapidly contracted it, watching him scale down and down and down before her. His eyes widened in surprise and alarm, though it happened too fast for him to make more than a gasp of startled shock on the way.
"W- bu- what's happening? What are you-" Baxter squeaked, but Madeline pressed a finger to her beaming lips once more and shooshed him.
"Hush hush! It's okay; I'm rescuing you," the blonde announced in an audible whisper, her palm stretching out to snatch Baxter from the floor once she'd shrunken him to the size of a grape, "don't panic!"
Baxter stumbled backwards and fell neatly into Madeline's waiting grip, swooped from the floor as the young lady rose back to her feet with a deep sense of gleeful satisfaction. Without pausing a beat, Madeline set off down the aisle, glancing back to make sure she wasn't being observed. She hadn't really thought this far ahead, a fact made all the more obvious by the sensation of one of Baxter squirming frantically in his captor's gentle fist. She couldn't just saunter about the rest of the shopping trip with her new friend in her hand; oblivious though they were, the subjects had sense enough to probably suspect she was up to something.
Her ensemble had been designed for form, not function, and was sorely lacking in convenient pockets.
In a moment of pure brilliance however, inspiration came to Madeline. She paused in mid-step, tapping her shoe on the floor as though a pebble had become uncomfortably stuck within. Lifting her foot behind her and slipping the polished bone-pump off the end, she gave it a brisk flick before discreetly dropping her passenger within. Madeline's gaze passed briefly over to ensure he was safely inside before she flexed her toes beneath their white stocking, donning the shoe once again. She gave another few experimental taps, and released a soft squeal of joy as she felt Baxter's lively squirms beneath the arch of her foot.
“Fear not, little one! Everything is under control; it is a mere two-hour walk back to my home with Mother, and once we’re there I have the perfect place to hide you until I can convince her to let me keep you!”
Her fists balled beneath her chin as she flushed with delight.
“Ooh! We’re going to be such good friends, I can already tell! And you never need to deal with that awful Mr. Roach ever again.”
She lurched in place, almost forgetting to actually grab the soap as she departed the aisle to return to her Mother.
Penelope had already reached the checkout line as Madeline rejoined her, tossing her load into the basket, even as the cashier drew forth the block of chocolate and scanned it. The taller woman quirked an eyebrow and looked at Madeline, who merrily feigned ignorance.
With a sigh, Penelope placed a hand on her daughter’s head and gave it an affectionate scratch, causing Madeline to pout.
“Mother, please.” Though her usual rebellion wasn’t quite in it. Her mind was on the little subject in her shoe, sure to save her from the dreary tedium of routine.