You wake up, rising stiffly from the cold uneven ground that served as your bed.
You have woken up to a world that is not yours. Never have you been in a place so familiar, yet so alien.
Next to you lies the sparking, charred tail end of the Machine. In life, the Machine served as a bridge, transporting you from your world to this one. In death, the Machine is a prison, for unless you can fix it you are stuck here. Forever.
But where is here? Is here a distant planet, filled with terrifying monsters? No. There are terrifying monsters indeed, but this is no distant planet. Is it an alternate dimension then, one where physics works differently and the impossible becomes only the improbable? No. The laws of physics you are tied to feel very different, but this is no alternate dimension. This is Earth. More specifically, your backyard. The Machine that smokes and fizzles beside you was a shrinking device.
Next to you a blade of grass shudders in the wind and the gust threatens to knock you off your feet. This world will be harsh and unforgiving. Luckily you are prepared; yesterday, before the sun set, you managed to climb a protruding rock and got a good look at your surroundings, enabling you to create a crude map. You were also able to craft a makeshift blade from some unnecessary scrap from the wreckage of the Machine.
The odds are stacked against you, but you are determined to succeed. To repair the Machine you will need to retrieve the cockpit, which landed ten or so meters away. At less than two centimeters in height this will be no small task.
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