‘Your Majesty, the first stage of the operation entails removing the dead and infected tissue from your eyeball and administering an injection,’ Kachika explained. ‘We will then repair the wound with the latest therapeutic agent – living tissue cultivated through bioengineering. It will completely heal your eyeball, leaving your vision and the appearance of your eye unaffected.’
Two hours later, the operation was done. Kachika and the ant medical team departed.
Interior Minister Babat and Health Minister Dr Vivek entered the emperor’s chamber as soon as the ants had gone. They were followed by several dinosaurs pushing a large, complicated-looking machine. The health minister explained. ‘Your Majesty, this is a high-precision three-dimensional scanner.’
‘What do you plan to do with it?’ asked Dadaeus, his left eye swathed in bandages, his right eye narrowed in suspicion.
‘For Your Majesty’s safety, we need to perform a full scan of your head,’ the interior minister said solemnly.
‘Is this really necessary?’
‘It’s best to be cautious when dealing with those devious little insects.’
The minister invited Dadaeus to step up onto the machine’s small platform. Once he was in position, a thin beam of light began passing slowly over his head. It was a lengthy procedure. ‘You’re being ridiculously paranoid,’ Dadaeus said irritably. ‘The ants wouldn’t dare lay a feeler on me. If they were found out, the imperial army would demolish all of their cities within three days. The ants may be devious, but they are also the most rational of insects. They’re like computers: logic and precision are everything to them; there’s no room for the sort of emotion that might spur them into trying to get even.’
The scan revealed no abnormalities in Dadaeus’s skull. Meanwhile, a report came in confirming that ants were pouring back into dinosaur cities. Normalcy was quickly being restored.
‘I’m still not convinced, Your Majesty. I know what the ants are like,’ the interior minister muttered to the emperor in a low voice.
Dadaeus smiled at him benignly. ‘Your vigilance is commendable, and you should remain watchful, but take it from me, old chap, we have bested them!’
The health minister would not be diverted. ‘From now on,’ he said, ‘all high-ranking officials, leading scientists and key personnel must undergo regular scans like this. With Your Majesty’s approval, of course,’ he added hastily.
‘Very well, you have my approval. But I still think you’re being unduly anxious.’
Unbeknown to Dadaeus, however, on the previous day, twenty ants had lain hidden in the imperial infirmary. When night fell, they had infiltrated the infirmary’s six scanners and destroyed a particular microchip in each of them – microchips that were too small for the dinosaurs to see. After the damage was done, the scanners operated normally but with a 20 per cent loss of accuracy. It was this reduction in accuracy that caused the scanner to miss something in Dadaeus’s skull – a tiny object, just one-tenth of the size of a grain of rice, covertly planted by the surgical team on the emperor’s cerebral artery. The tiny object was a timed mine-grain. 1,000 years earlier, in the First Dinosaur–Ant War, ant soldiers had bitten through the same artery in the brain of Major General Ixta (he of the charming ‘pissing on your toy sandpit of a city’ quote) just before he haemorrhaged to death on the battlefield outside the Ivory Citadel.
The mine-grain had been set to detonate in 660 hours. In those days, Earth rotated faster than it does today, and there were only twenty-two hours in a day, which meant that in exactly one month, the mine-grain in the emperor’s brain would explode.
13
The Final War
‘The facts are clear: either the ants eliminate the dinosaurs or both species perish together,’ Supreme Consul Kachika declared, addressing the senate of the Ant Federation from the speaker’s podium.
‘I agree with the Supreme Consul,’ said Senator Birubi, waving her antennae from her seat. ‘If current trends continue, one of two fates awaits Earth’s biosphere. It will either be fatally poisoned by pollution from the dinosaurs’ industries or it will be obliterated in a nuclear war between the great dinosaur powers of Gondwana and Laurasia.’
The other ant senators responded with feverish agreement.
‘Yes, it’s time to make a decision!’
‘Exterminate the dinosaurs and save civilisation!’
‘We must act now! Without delay!’
‘Will everyone please calm down!’ Professor Joya, chief scientist of the Ant Federation, waggled her antennae to quell the uproar. When some semblance of order had returned to the room, she continued. ‘Remember that the symbiotic relationship between ants and dinosaurs has lasted for more than two millennia. Our alliance is the cornerstone of civilisation on Earth. If this alliance disintegrates and the dinosaurs are destroyed, can ant civilisation really continue unsupported?’ She tried to engage the attention of the senators sitting closest to her, but not one of them would look directly at her. ‘The benefits dinosaurs derive from us ants are well documented and understood. But we must not underestimate what we receive in return. Yes, that includes basic material necessities. But there is more, much more, though it is intangible and hard to quantify. Dinosaur ideas and scientific knowledge are crucial to ant civilisation, and we would be foolhardy to ignore that.’
‘Professor, I have given this problem a great deal of consideration,’ said Kachika. ‘In the early days of the dinosaur–ant alliance, the dinosaurs’ ideas and knowledge were indeed essential to ant society. They were the building blocks of our civilisation. But we have since spent two millennia absorbing dinosaur learning and accumulating knowhow. Ant thought is no longer as simplistic and mechanical as it once was. We, too, are capable of scientific thought, of technological design and innovation. In fact, in many fields, such as micro-machining and bio-computing, we are ahead of the dinosaurs. Without them, our technology will continue to progress regardless. We no longer need to tap them for ideas.’
‘No, no…’ Professor Joya flicked her antennae forcefully. ‘Supreme Consul Kachika, you have confused technology with science. It’s true that ants make outstanding engineers, but we will never be scientists. The physiology of our brains is such that we will never possess those two essential dinosaur traits: curiosity and imagination.’
Senator Birubi shook her head in disagreement. ‘Curiosity and imagination? What nonsense, Professor. You surely can’t believe those are enviable traits? That’s precisely what makes the dinosaurs such neurotic, moody, unpredictable creatures. They fritter away their time lost in fantasies and daydreams.’
‘But, Senator, that unpredictability and those fantasies are what lie behind their creativity. It’s what enables them to conjure and pursue theories exploring the most profound laws of the universe, and that is the basis of all scientific progress. If abstract theorising were to cease, technological innovation would be like a pool of water without a source – it would dry up.’
‘All right, all right.’ Kachika was getting increasingly impatient. ‘Now is not the time for dull academic discussion, Professor. What the ant world is facing here is an existential dilemma: will we destroy the dinosaurs or perish alongside them?’
Joya made no answer.
‘You academics are all talk and no action,’ Birubi sneered. ‘Always prattling on about theory but totally hopeless when asked to solve an actual practical problem.’ She turned to Kachika. ‘Madam Supreme Consul, does that mean federal high command already has a detailed plan in place?’