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At this stage in the game, nobody need look at the dark mountain valley for confirmation: for many, the vibrations were enough, and those who opened their curtains and blinds to check afterwards wished they hadn’t.

From between the ragged fringe of the mountains, in the evening light, two silhouettes appeared like something mythical, and already panic was setting in deep in the city below. The great wall shook with the vibrations, and sent foolish little men with ropes and ladders tumbling from its surface as a rhino might shake flies from its back; others threw themselves from buildings, for it was known (well known) what a giant attack would bring. The giants were ruthless, cunning and brutal: a great many of the tiny-folk had died not two weeks ago, and now, like farmers, the giants returned to reap their crop. “Surely, if we didn’t reproduce so much,” The philosophers among them questioned, “they would be forced to leave us alone”, as they threw off their clothes and dove into beds with their wives or husbands and made love like it was (for it really was) their last day on Earth.

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