Today's

Observer newspaper observes the human body would fit "into a cube less than 1/500th of a centimetre on each side" if all the space between the atoms was compressed out. What remained would be incredibly dense in a fashion similar to neutron stars. I too would become incredibly dense and very minute should all my space suddenly decide to vacate. Now, there's a sobering thought to mull with the morning's toast. The article fails to explore what the cubed me might think if this occurrence came to pass. Not a lot, I suspect. However, should my contracting consciousness manage a final utterance it will contain the phrase "Fuck me!"

The theme of human shrinkage is explored somewhat in The Fly from 1958 where the protagonist comes to a very sticky end by having his brains bashed in with a huge boulder. Well, it was either that or be eaten alive by a big spider. As a life outcome not much can comfort the getting tinier especially if bashed in brains or becoming spider food are the alternatives. I am drawn, therefore, to the unarguable conclusion that losing all ones space is best avoided and at all costs too.