Three ants crawling the surface of the moon
Are met with three humans. The ants roll their eyes at the predictable questions of the
humans: Are they making a pilgrimage? Are they three individual ants or part of a
larger group? Have they arrived of their own accord or have they been placed there by
external forces? Is that light reflecting off of their backs a consequence of our
observational process, or something else, perhaps a symbol of their luminous potential
to rescue us from the in-progress apocalypse? Are they on a mission, do they have a
purpose, are they trying to do anything specific at all? Are they on the edge of a cliff or
are they on stable footing? Are there any other creatures with them, or are they all
alone? What about bacteria, what about spores, what about the microorganisms
loitering on their bellies? What about gravity, what of it? What of gravity and its effects
upon three ants crawling and wailing on the surface of the moon?
Who said anything about wailing. Who said anything about humans. Who said
anything about ant spirituality, ant pilgrimages, on earth or on the moon or anywhere
at all in the universe. Who said the ants would be a group, a group of three, who is to
say there are exactly three ants, what about the invisible ants, what about the yet-to-
arrive ants, what about all the ants that died yesterday. Who said they have arrived at
all, who could say with such confidence that this was their final destination in the first
place, who feels certain of the existence of the light reflecting off of their backs, who can
be so sure that it’s not a glint sparkling out of the eye of an altogether different creature,
who is to keep counting or not counting, as if the numbers of creatures on the moon
was a countable question, who said anything about a mission, as if the ants had
missions in the style of humans, wouldn’t that be something, or as if humans were ants
after all, who said there were edges and cliffs and footing on the moon as if it was
something akin to the earth, who said gravity, who said weight, who said wailing, and
crawling, and surfaces, damn you and all your surfaces.
The ants and the humans and the surfaces form a dissonant chorus. They cry, they wail,
they sing and proceed. They hit, they pummel. They hurt each other. They cry, they
wail, they hurt each other.
***
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