An Ant's Plight

An ant’s plight

It took me several hours of intense bullying to force myself to sit down and write this article. The political scene in Egypt is depressing; warring factions have turned the country into a barely functional warzone where life is put on hold every evening at 7 PM due to the enforced curfew, and tensions are running high everywhere. One can’t run into a single person who doesn’t alienate the other faction and calls them traitors, and I’ve just about had enough of it. To drive my point home, I’ve decided to construct this analogy, in the hope that it might wake someone up from the confused coma our corrupt leaders have put us in.

<PS: for all the nerds out there, this is a work of fiction and I’ve taken some liberties with the ant colony. I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, but for the sake of the analogy, some intentional oversights have been made. Please focus on the story as a whole rather than the details.>

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An ant lives a short, hard life. From the moment it’s born, the ant slaves for its Queen, collecting food for its larvae and defending the anthill from invaders. Never has the ant questioned its existence; it lives in service of its masters, and only does what it is told. When the time comes, it is expected to gladly lay down its life for them, as well. In return, the Queen… nothing. The Queen does not bother repaying the worker ant in any way, and the poor ants are forced to live off the leftovers even though they collect all the food themselves.

Our hero is one such ant, born into slavery and raised for the sole purpose of serving the Queen. What’s a good ant name? Let’s go for Andy. Actually, worker ants are all female, so let’s call her Angy. It’s all academic, of course, since worker ants aren’t allowed to have names in this universe… they are referred to by serial numbers. However, seeing as its easier to refer to the ant as “Angy” rather than “Ant number 13246”, please humor me. Anyway, Angy wakes up every day in the early hours of the morning, heads outside the colony where she spends all day braving dangers and fending off predators much bigger than her, all to locate a food source that it can point out to the other worker ants so they can bring it back to feed the Queen and its spawn.

Working conditions were phenomenally bad. Ant colonies symbolize the epitome of Autocracy -or the “None for all, all for one” ideology, as I like to call it- and this colony was no exception. The ants worked in horrible conditions, faced cave-ins that killed tens on a daily basis, worked around the clock with barely the minimum amount of sleep required to keep them functioning and they only fed on the colony’s left-overs. However, the ants were peaceful and patient, and they did the job that was expected of them nonetheless.

On one fateful day, Angy got rudely awakened up by a soldier ant. In a dialect that consisted mostly of rough grunts, the soldier ant demanded that Angy “get back to work”. It was an interesting way to phrase it, “back” to work. Like work was the default state for Angy to be in. Angy got up, stretched, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and made her long ungainly way through the tunnel leading to the surface.

Angy had long since gotten used to the gruesome sights she saw on her way to work. Accidents everywhere; fatal ones that cost many lives. In fact, “Pile-ups” were a frequent enough occurrence that they were no longer surprising; a cave-in would happen in one of the smaller tunnels, some poor worker ants would be thrown in there to drag out the survivors and rebuild the tunnels, only to have some new section of the tunnel come crashing down, killing them instantly. Rinse and repeat. But it was OK, of course, since Angy and her ilk were all expendable… For the good of the colony.

After a tiresome journey, she was finally out in the open air. More importantly, she could see the sun… the sight always filled her with an unfamiliar emotion. Was it warmth? Hope? She didn’t know, for she had never known either. It was reassuring to see the sun, cheerful and bright and majestic, way up there in the sky. She had heard tell that the male ants, who had wings and could fly, couldn’t even reach the sun. No matter how high they soared, they never seemed to get close enough to snuff it out. It was good to know that no matter how hopeless and gaunt things might look down in the dark, bleak tunnels below, there was no way the clenched fist of corruption and oppression could reach the sun. As long as the sun reigned supreme in the sky, defiantly ablaze, there would be hope for them yet.

Angy roamed the lands all day, scouring them for food. It was almost noon now, and Angy felt the familiar twinge of fear she usually felt at that time of day. Each ant was expected to bring home a certain quota of food every day… If one ant failed to collect the amount it was ordered to get, it faced progressively harsher punishments, starting with food deprivation and ending with expulsion from the colony… Or worse, being eaten to make up for its failings.

So blinded had she been by the sun’s light that she walked into a deadly trap; a spider’s net. Angy knew that the more she struggled, the more she’d get entangled in the net. But she also knew that the spider couldn’t be far… She had to get out of the net, or her life was forfeit. Worker ants weren’t important enough to send rescue parties after.

It wasn’t long before she heard the tell-tale hiss of the spider. She started writhing in her trap, panicking now. The spider was inching closer, and she could see no way out of this. If she’d had some more time, she might have bit her way through her silken shackles… But it was too late now. She closed her eyes and awaited death’s loving embrace; a release from all her worldly worries...

Except death didn’t seem to be keen on said embrace. A bird swooped in and snatched the spider, saving Angy at the last moment. Hardly believing her luck, she struggled against her bonds and broke free, taking a few minutes to compose herself. It was hard to believe that the entire struggle only lasted for a few seconds. Shaken and scared, she got back to work. Try as she might, there was no way she could collect the food now. Out of the fire, and into the frying pan. She briefly considered defecting to another colony, but she decided to go home and face the consequences anyway.

It was no surprise that she was scolded for her lack of work. She tried to explain what had happened, but they told her all the other ants had to work under the same conditions and that there were no exceptions. She was sentenced to die. How ironic, it seemed, that fate would save her from being eaten alive, only to serve her up to her own colony on a silver platter. There must have been a reason why she had been spared earlier... "This can't be the end" She thought.

Her holding cell was a grim thing, a place for the disgraced and the damned; the place they’d been warned of since birth. To stay here for even one night was akin to being killed; no one would accept her again… she was doomed, without any chance of redemption. The soldier ants threw her into the cell and left, their footsteps receding into the darkness until she was left in the throes of her own miserable thoughts.

A voice greeted her: “Lighten up, pumpkin, it isn’t the end of the world!”

 She turned around, and gasped.

A male ant?! Could it be? Male ants’ sole purpose was to live until they were old enough to mate with the Queen, after which they mysteriously disappeared. That a creature so majestic and powerful was thrown in the holding cell was an insult to the universe… Such wings were not built for restraints.

“Are.. Are you real?” She stammered.

“As real as the Queen, may her majesty burn in hell.” He growled. He seemed friendly enough, so she deemed it safe to reply.

“That’s blasphemy! How could you say such a thing?” She asked, disbelieving what she was hearing. The Queen was a diety; whoever antagonized her was a heretic and deserved to die.

“Get your head out of your arse, pumpkin, she isn’t going to shed any tears over you, and I’d pay her the same courtesy if I were you.” He yawned, seemingly unconcerned with their impending death. “What are you in for?” He asked, scratching his back.

“I’ve failed her majesty”, She wailed. “I haven’t collected the amount of food demanded of me!”.

“Oh no! God forbid the Queen should have less food to stuff her giant abdomen” He drivelled. He had a high-born, sardonic attitude about him. All male ants were royalty, since they were needed to fertilize the Queen… Which made it all the more puzzling to see him in there. She risked a question of her own.

“Since you seem to think so little of my crime, what are you in for?”
He laughed outloud. “Is it not obvious? I’ve failed my Queen. Get it?”

Puzzled as ever, she replied: “Not really.”

“You’re going to have me spell it out, aren’t you?” He groaned, exasperated. “I ‘ve failed in my manly duties. So would you, did you see how she looks? She hasn’t exactly been paying attention to her weight lately, and for God’s sake don’t google her or you’ll hate me forever.”

She blushed. “Seriously? That’s why they’re killing you?”

“Well, it didn’t go exactly like that…” He sighed patiently. “I didn’t exactly fail her, I just told her to go… inseminate herself. I’ve always thought there was more to my life than mating with that ugly ghoul, and I stood by that belief. Should I not shape my own destiny? I told her there were plenty of other willing males, and if she could just let me leave that would be great. She was not amused. Her Fat Majesty told her guards to seize me, and here I am.”

And for the first time in her life, Angy thought. She reflected on the injustice of it all.

Why was she expected to work non-stop every day for the sake of royalty who didn’t appreciate her sacrifice?

Who was the Queen to order even the other royalty around?
Why should that defiant male pay his life for not wanting to touch that hideous creature?
Why were there no other ants revolting or questioning the system?

It was because they were raised that way, from the minute they were born. Every ant had a predetermined role in the ant society, and no one was allowed to question theirs. It was blasphemy, heresy… But is it really heresy to want to determine one’s own fate? Why did it always have to be for the greater good? WHY?

Suddenly, she was no longer scared.

Next day, she walked into that room, ready to die. But she would be damned if she didn’t have anything to say about it first.

The Queen gave the order. The soldier ant inched closer.

In a deceptively calming, sweet voice, the Queen asked: “Ant number 13246, you are hereby sentenced to die. Have you any last words?”

“Yes, my Queen, I would be heard”.

There was a collective intake of air in the room. Even the Queen looked surprised; it was just a show, being given last words… no ants were ever expected to use them. Condemned ants were usually too occupied with their own shame to want to talk.

However, since the Queen had asked the question, she had to hear Angy out for the sake of saving face.

“Speak then, and be brief, my child.” The Queen said, a cold, calculating look in her eyes. She really was ugly, Angy thought, barely suppressing a laugh.
Angy turned, facing the crowds that had gathered to watch the execution. Many jeered and booed, but she didn’t care. She would not die a minion... She would not be another worker ant, dead and forgotten. She would give them a show.

“My people! Hear me, and hear me true! For I am a worker ant, the lowest of the low, less than dirt and twice as cheap! Who am I to fail my Queen? Had she not assigned me a job?

I went out this morning, blasphemy pouring out of my every pore, resigned to defy my Queen, seeking to let her down! Who among us would turn down a chance to die painfully at the hand of their own people? Would you not have done the same?”

The crowd was shuffling. The jeering ants stopped. She would be heard, it seemed.

“Forgive my sarcasm, for I was proving a point. I went out this morning to work, and work I did. And why not? Is it not my duty to die in agony in service of my Queen? Do we not go out every day, seeking our deaths and braving the impossible for the Queen's glory?

Except today, I ran into a spider's net. I was THIS close to death, and I embraced it, for the sake of the Queen! I thought there could be no greater honor! But alas, cruel fate chose to rescue me in the form of a bird, snatching away the spider and saving my life. But is there an end to my blasphemy? No! I dare to NOT bring Her Majesty the food she demanded, after almost losing my life! Who am I to defy the Queen?

The lowest of the low, and twice as cheap."

The Queen was furious. She knew she would be tortured to pay for her insolence, but she was past caring. The crowded ants were nervously looking at each other, wondering how they could quietly slip out of the room.

"Yes, I have the courage to say it. Is it not true? Our lives count for naught! We are but pawns, to be sacrificed for the greater good of the colony! We all die that they might live! Is it not our duty?

BUT WHO MADE IT OUR DUTY?

They did! They bred and raised us like pets, a means to an end! We are not worth her pity!"

The Queen had had enough.

"Enough of this blasphemous talk! Guards, take her away!"

The guards started towards Angy, But the crowd booed at the Queen... As well as some of the soldier ants. Unprecedented. Visibly shaken, and desperately trying to control matters, the Queen told the guards to stand down, and spared a look of pure loathing to Angy, silently promising a very long and painful death.

"You see! You see the oppression and hatred flowing from her eyes! Her Majesty expects us to do as we're told, sparing her no effort, yet she refuses to pay us for our work! We brave dangers and die by the hundreds every day, yet do we get appreciated? Do we ever get forgiven for missing a day's work? When was the last time you had a sick day? Is it not our right? ARE WE NOT FREE?

OF COURSE WE'RE NOT FREE! SHE ENSLAVES AND CONTROLS US! RISE UP, MY BRETHREN, RISE AND FIGHT FOR OUR FREEDOM, THAT WE MIGHT SEE BETTER DAYS!"

Faster than she believed possible, a guard was on top of her, his mandibles a millimeter from her face. Then he was gone, replaced by the dashing figure of the male ant she'd met in the holding cell... But the soldier ant was coming back.

"GO!" Roared the male ant, buzzing towards the soldier ant. 

The room was chaos. The soldier ants were overwhelmed, the crowds viciously attacking their masters, riled up by Angy, determined to stand as one against the oppressor. They fought them out of the room, recruiting other ants as they backed the soldier ants towards the entrance of the anthill. They took many casualties, but they pressed on until the soldier ants disengaged. The Queen sneered, and said: "You haven't seen the last of me", before the soldiers carried her out of the entrance and out of sight.

Now it was time to build. It was time to make a new name for themselves.

But Angy did not want to be in power, and there were no larvae ready to assume the role of a Queen.

It goes downhill from here.

Ants from a rival colony decided to install their Queen instead, waltzing into the colony one day despite all opposition. Even so, the worker ants -glad for an end to the confusion- let her assume the role and hoped she would be an improvement.The new Queen turned out to be as bad as the old one, in the sense that she gave promises and never lived up to them; at least the old queen gave no such promises. It made deals with the rival ants, and it was only concerned about consolidating its own power by expelling the ants that rebelled, who faced certain death once exiled and alone.

The ants hated this new queen so much that they eventually decided to overthrow it as well, and bring back the old queen. But the new Queen had had a taste of power, and it wouldn't budge. It called in the colony of rival ants, leading to a violent clash where hundreds of ants were killed.

In the corner, we can see Angy and the unnamed male ant crying over the failed uprising. Through petty deals and treacherous intentions, the old queen and the new queen stubbornly destroyed both colonies by refusing to back down, and insisting on using the uprising for their own benefit. Now the colony was shattered; its once united inhabitants now divided and destroying each other. Perhaps that was the Angy's fault; one cannot go against their destiny, for an ant is an ant, destined to forever have a tyrant queen. Had they had gone against their purpose? Did they deserve to be doomed for daring to decide their own fate?

Somewhere along the road, the other ants had forgotten that it was never about the game of thrones; it was about freedom and equality. It was never about removing the Queen; it was about fixing the tyrannical system. It was never about revenge; it was about justice.

And now the ant colony was too busy murdering itself to notice the giant anteater looming outside... It had always been chased off, but now the colony was in no position to defend itself. Salivating at the chance it had always been waiting for, the anteater went for a snack.