For Cretaceous civilisation, this was of immeasurable significance because it forged a bridge between their respective worlds. Over time, the ants came to understand dinosaur speech, but dinosaur anatomy meant that dinosaurs would never be able to understand the ants’ pheromone-based language. Consequently, only simple exchanges took place between the two worlds. But the ants’ mastery of written language brought about a fundamental change in this, for the ants could now communicate with the dinosaurs through writing. To facilitate this, they invented an astounding new method. Within a square patch of ground, thousands of ants would quickly arrange themselves to form lines of text. This drill composition technique grew more polished by the day. Eventually, the transition between drill formations was so swift that the block of ants resembled the instantaneous output of a computer screen.
As communication between the two worlds improved, the ants absorbed more and more knowledge and ideas from the dinosaurs, for each new scientific and cultural achievement could now be promptly disseminated throughout antkind. And so the critical defect in ant society – the dearth of creative thinking – was remedied, leading to the simultaneous rapid advancement of ant civilisation. The result of the dinosaur–ant alliance was that the ants became the dinosaurs’ dexterous hands, while the dinosaurs became a wellspring of vision and innovation for the ants. The fusion of these two budding intelligences in the late Cretaceous had finally sparked a dramatic nuclear reaction. The sun of civilisation rose over the heart of Gondwana, dispelling the long night of evolution on Earth.
5
The Steam-Engine Age
Time flew by, and 1,000 years passed. Cretaceous civilisation entered a brand-new era as the ants and dinosaurs established their own vast empires.
The dinosaur world moved into the Steam-Engine Age. Though the dinosaurs had not yet harnessed electricity, they mined minerals on a massive scale, smelted a variety of metals and powered their complex machines with huge steam engines. They constructed cities across the continent and linked them via a web of broad-gauge railways serviced by a fleet of ginormous trains. These comprised carriages the size of our five- or six-storey buildings and were drawn by steam locomotives so behemothic that they made the ground shake beneath them and left billowing clouds lingering on the horizon. There were also high-altitude transport balloons, whose shadows enveloped entire cities as they floated by, and mighty ships plying every major ocean; these too were powered by steam engines or sometimes by magnificent sails. Fleets of these ships, as high and hefty as a seaborne mountain range, carried Gondwanan dinosaurs and ants to other continents, and so their particular model of civilisation, based on the dinosaur–ant alliance, spread right across the Late Cretaceous world.
By their own standards, the ants’ empire was also incomparably vast. No longer confined to subterranean nests, the ants now resided in cities that dotted every continent like a constellation of stars. Just as it is hard for us to grasp the immense scale of dinosaur civilisation, it is difficult to imagine the miniature nature and intricate structures of ant civilisation. Though ant cities were generally no larger than one of our football fields, the detail and complexity of these megalopolises was dizzying. Ant buildings were typically one to two metres tall, with elaborately filigreed interiors that functioned like three-dimensional labyrinths. Their trains were the size of our smallest toy cars, and their transport balloons were like soap bubbles drifting with the wind. These vehicles could only cover short distances, so if an ant wanted to travel further afield, they had to board a dinosaur train, balloon or ship.
The ant and dinosaur worlds maintained a closely cooperative, mutually dependent relationship. By then the dinosaurs had invented technology that enabled them to quickly print long tracts of text on paper, and they had also created typewriters with keys the size of our computer screens, to accommodate their fat fingers. Though the dinosaurs therefore no longer needed ants for scriptorial work, in many other sectors their fine-motor skills were more important than ever – indispensable, in fact. After all, it would have been impossible to manufacture printing presses and typewriters without the countless precision parts machined by the ants. And with the emergence of large-scale industry in the dinosaur world, there was a greater demand for fine manipulation. The manufacture of everything from steam-engine valves and meters to ocean-liner compasses required the ants’ pinpoint accuracy. The field of medicine, which was where the dinosaur–ant alliance originated, was now more ant-dominated than ever, as dinosaurs, with their clumsy claws, had never learnt to operate on their own kind.
The dinosaur and ant worlds may have been interdependent civilisations, but they were also independent entities, and this necessitated the development of a more sophisticated economic relationship. Globally, there were two currencies in circulation: paper bills the size of our extra-large yoga mats, as used by the dinosaurs, and tiny slivers of shredded paper, as used by the ants. The two currencies were exchanged on a one-for-one basis.
For the first 1,000 years of Cretaceous civilisation, relations between the ant and dinosaur worlds were harmonious and, on the whole, frictionless. This was due in large part to their interdependence, for had the alliance broken down, it would have precipitated a deadly crisis for both worlds. Another important reason was that the ants lived in a low-consumption society. Their material requirements were easily satisfied, and they took up very little space. Much of the Formican Empire’s territory overlapped but did not interfere with that of the Saurian Empire, allowing the dinosaurs and the ants to coexist without intense competition.
There was, however, a deep and unbridgeable cultural gulf between the two civilisations – a manifestation of the sharp differences in the physiologies and social structures of the two species. Because of this, the ant and dinosaur worlds never truly became one. And as civilisation advanced, intercultural conflict became unavoidable.
With the expansion of their respective intelligences, both the ants and the dinosaurs showed a growing awareness of the vastness of the cosmos, but exploratory research into the underlying laws of the universe was still in its infancy. Science seemed weak and inadequate, so religion was born, and religious fanaticism rapidly reached fever pitch in both worlds. As the differences between the two civilisations were expressed through increasingly distinctive religious beliefs, the latent crisis came to a head and dark clouds gathered over Cretaceous civilisation.
A Dinosaur–Ant Summit was held annually in Boulder City. At this meeting, the sovereigns of the Saurian and Formican Empires discussed the major issues of the day. Boulder City and the Ivory Citadel were still the imperial capitals, and although the latter, relatively tiny as it was, seemed no more conspicuous than a postage stamp pasted onto the side of the magnificent Boulder City, the two were nevertheless equal in status. When Queen Lassini of the Formican Empire entered the lofty imperial palace of the Saurian Empire, she was therefore accorded a grand reception. As happened whenever an important ant official travelled, she was accompanied by a contingent of soldier ants known as a word corps, whose function was to assume the formations necessary to facilitate negotiations with the dinosaurs. The size of a word corps was determined by the rank of the official, and the corps that came to Boulder City with the ant queen was, of course, the largest of them all.