Empire of the Ants (20 page)

The race through the depths of the city.

The hiding place full of bodies which could have been those of their 'legion'.

The lomechusa beetle.

The secret passage in the granite.

As she walked along, she went over her memories and called herself fortunate. None of her sisters had had such adventures before even leaving the city.

Madness could not be the explanation when so many individuals were involved. Could they be mercenaries spying on behalf of the termites? No, that could not be right. There were too many of them and they were too well organized.

And anyway, one thing still did not fit: why were there food reserves under the floor of the city? To feed the spies? No, there was enough there to feed millions and, though there were a lot of them, there were not millions.

And that surprising lomechusa beetle. It was a surface animal. It could not possibly have gone down to the fiftieth floor of the basement on its own and had therefore been taken there. But as soon as you got near the insect, you were captivated by its scent. Quite a large group would have been needed to wrap the monster in supple leaves and take it below discreetly.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that that suggested considerable means. In fact, when you looked closely, it was just as if part of the Tribe had a secret it was guarding fiercely from the rest.

Her head was spinning with strange ideas. She stopped and the other ants thought she was faint with emotion before the nuptial flight. It sometimes happened; females were so sensitive. She put her antennae to her mouth and repeated quickly: the wiping out of the first expedition, the secret weapon, the killing of the thirty legionaries, the lomechusa beetle, the secret passage in the granite and the food reserves.

Suddenly everything fell into place. That was it! She rushed back against the stream. If only it were not too late!

education
: The education of ants includes the following stages:

From the first to the tenth day, most young ants tend the laying queen. They look after her, lick her and caress her. She in return bathes them in her nourishing, disinfectant saliva.

From the eleventh to the twentieth day, workers are allowed to look after the cocoons.

From the twenty-first to the thirtieth day, they guard and feed their younger sisters.

From the thirty-first to the fortieth day, they devote themselves to domestic duties and highway maintenance while continuing to tend the queen mother and nymphs.

The fortieth day is an important date. The workers are considered experienced enough to leave the city.

From the fortieth to the fiftieth day, they act as greenfly keepers and milkers.

From the fiftieth to the last day of their lives, they may engage in the most exciting occupation for a city ant: hunting and exploring unknown territory.

N.B. From the eleventh day onwards, males and females are not obliged to work. More often than not, they remain idly consigned to their quarters until the day of the nuptial flight.

Edmond Wells,
Encyclopedia of Relative and Absolute Knowledge

The 327th male was also preparing himself. Within the field of his antennae, the other males were talking of nothing but females. Very few of them had ever seen one or caught more than fleeting glimpses of them in the corridors of the Forbidden City. Many were fantasizing and imagining their heady, erotic perfumes.

One of the princes claimed to have taken part in trophallaxis with a female. Her honeydew tasted of birch sap and her sexual hormones smelt like cut daffodils.

The others silently envied him.

327th, who really had tasted the honeydew of a female (and what a female!), knew that it was no different from that of workers or honey-pots. However, he did not join in the conversation.

A risque idea had occurred to him. He very much wanted to supply the 56th female with the sperms she needed to build her future city. If only he could find her. What a pity they had not sorted out a pheromone of recognition so that they could meet up in the crowd.

When the 56th female reached the males' room, there was surprise all round. It was quite against the Tribe's rules for her to go there. Males and females were not supposed to see one another until the time of the nuptial flight. They did not copulate in the corridors like dwarves.

The princes, who had so badly wanted to know what females were like, now knew. As a body, they gave out hostile scents signifying that she should not stay in the room.

She nevertheless carried on through the tumultuous preparations, jostling everyone and dispersing her pheromones for all she was worth.

327th
.
327th. Where are you, 327th?

The princes made no bones about telling her that that was no way to go about choosing her partner. She must be patient and trust to chance. She must show a little more modesty.

The 56th female found her companion in the end, though. He was dead. His head had been bitten off by mandibles.

totalitarianism
: People are interested in ants because they think they have managed to create a successful totalitarian system. Certainly, the impression we get from the outside is that everyone in the anthill works, everyone is obedient, everyone is ready to sacrifice themselves and everyone is the same. And for the time being, all human totalitarian systems have failed. That is why we thought of copying social insects (like Napoleon, whose emblem was the bee). The pheromones that flood the anthill with global information have an equivalent in the planetary television of today. There is a widespread belief that if the best is made available to all, one day we will end up with a perfect human race. That is not the way of things.

Nature, with all due respect to Mr Darwin, does not evolve in the direction of the supremacy of the best (according to which criteria, anyway?). Nature draws its strength from diversity. It needs all kinds of people, good, bad, mad, desperate, sporty, bed-ridden, hunchbacked, hare-lipped, happy, sad, intelligent, stupid, selfish, generous, small, tall, black, yellow, red and white. It needs all religions, philosophies, fanaticisms and wisdom. The only danger is that any one species may be eliminated by another. In the past, fields of maize artificially designed by men and made up of clones of the best heads (the ones that need least water, are most frost-resistant or produce the best grains) have suddenly succumbed to trivial infections while fields of wild maize made up of several different strains, each with its own peculiar strengths and weaknesses, have always managed to survive epidemics. Nature hates uniformity and loves diversity. It is in this perhaps that its essential genius lies.

Edmond Wells,
Encyclopedia of Relative and Absolute Knowledge

Slowly and despondently, she made her way back to the dome. In a corridor near the females' quarters, her infrared simple eyes made out two silhouettes. It was the rock-scented assassins, the big one and the little one with the limp!

As they came straight for her, 56th whirred her wings and leapt at the neck of the lame one. They soon immobilized her but instead of executing her, they subjected her to antenna contact.

The female was furious. She asked them why they had killed the 327th male since he would have died anyway during the flight. Why had they assassinated him?

The two killers tried to reason with her. According to them, some things could not wait, whatever the cost. It was sometimes necessary to do things that were frowned upon if you wanted the Tribe to go on working normally. She must not be naive. The unity of Bel-o-kan had to be earned and, if necessary, taken care of.

So they weren't spies, then?

No, they weren't spies. They even claimed to be the chief guardians of the Tribe's safety and welfare.

The princess screamed pheromones of rage. They had killed 327th because he was a threat to the Tribe's safety. Yes, replied the two killers. She was too young now but one day she would understand.

Understand? Understand what? That there were highly organized assassins in the very heart of the city and that they were claiming to save her by eliminating males who had 'seen things that were crucial for the Tribe's survival'.

The ant with the limp condescended to explain. From what she said, it transpired that the rock-scented warriors were 'anti-bad stress soldiers'. There was good stress which caused the Tribe to progress and fight. And there was bad stress which caused the Tribe to self-destruct.

There were some things it was better not to know. They caused 'metaphysical' anguish, for which there was as yet no remedy. When it was worried, the Tribe was inhibited and unable to act.

It was very bad for everyone. The Tribe started to produce toxins which poisoned it. Its 'long-term' survival was more important than 'short-term' knowledge of the truth. If an eye had seen something that the brain knew was dangerous for the rest of the organism, it was better for the brain to put out that eye.

The big ant joined the lame one in summing up these wise words as follows:

We have put out the eye,

We have cut off the nerve stimulus,

We have ended the anguish.

The antennae insisted that all organisms possess precisely such a safety mechanism. Those which do not die of fright or commit suicide in order to avoid facing reality.

56th was quite surprised but did not falter. Fine pheromones, indeed! If they were hoping to conceal the existence of the secret weapon, they were too late anyway. In the first place, everyone knew La-chola-kan had been a victim of it, even if it was still a complete mystery from the technological point of view.

The two soldiers remained impassive and did not relax their grip. Everyone had forgotten about La-chola-kan. Victory had stilled their curiosity. Anyway, you only had to sniff the corridors: there was not the slightest whiff of toxin. The whole Tribe was quietly awaiting the next day's Festival of Rebirth.

What did they want from her, then? Why were they holding her head so tightly?

While racing through the lower floors during the chase, the lame ant had detected a third ant. A soldier. What was her identification number?

So that was why they had not killed her outright. In reply, the female poked the ends of both her antennae deep into the big ant's eyes. The fact that she had been blind from birth did not make it any the less painful. The lame ant was astounded and slackened her grip.

The female ran and flew in order to get away more quickly. Her wings raised a cloud of dust which put her pursuers off her track. She had to get back to the dome quickly.

She had just had a brush with death. Now she was going to begin another life.

The following is an extract from Edmond Wells's address to the Parliamentary commission of enquiry in support of his petition against toy anthills:

'In the shops yesterday, I saw the new toys that are being given to children as Christmas presents. They're transparent plastic boxes filled with earth containing six hundred ants and a queen whose fertility is guaranteed.

You can see them working, digging and running about.

It's fascinating for a child. It's as if he were being given a city. Except that the inhabitants are minute. Like hundreds of small, autonomous dolls moving about.

To tell the truth, I have anthills like them myself, simply because my work as a biologist involves studying them. I've set them up in vivariums covered with perforated cardboard.

However, I get a strange feeling each time I stand in front of my anthill, as if I were omnipotent in their world, as if I were their God.

If I feel like depriving them of food, my ants will all die. If I take it into my head to make it rain, I merely have to pour a little water over their city from a watering can. If I decide to increase the temperature in the anthill, I just have to put them on the radiator. If I want to kidnap one to examine it under a microscope, I only have to plunge my tweezers into the vivarium and if I feel like killing some, I won't meet with any resistance. They won't even understand what's happening to them.

I tell you, gentlemen, we have inordinate power over these tiny creatures simply by virtue of their size.

I don't abuse that power myself but just imagine what a child might do to them.

Sometimes I have crazy ideas. When I see a sand city, I say to myself: what if it were ours? What if we, too, have been set up in a prison vivarium and another giant species is watching us?

What if Adam and Eve were guinea pigs in an experiment to see what would happen if they were placed in an artificial setting?

What if their banishment from Paradise were just a change of prison vivarium?

What if the Flood were, after all, just a glass of water tipped over us by a careless or curious God?

Impossible, do I hear you say? Who knows. Maybe the only difference is that my ants are shut in by glass walls and we are held in by a physical force: the Earth's attraction.

My ants always manage to slash through the cardboard, however, and several have already escaped. And we manage to launch rockets which escape the Earth's gravity.