By Liam Hogan
Chomp.
Chomp.
Swallow.
Wonder at the sharpness of her new teeth. Wonder at her new teeth.
Chomp.
Swallow.
Even if she had been counting, she would have lost track long ago of the number of bites she had taken; the number of times her teeth had dulled to uselessness, only to be magically renewed, edges keen and strong. She’d returned to this dish over and over, driven by a hunger she could not understand, could not assuage. She ate until she could eat no more, then slept, only to wake racked by an all-consuming need.
And always the same meal. The same tough, gamey flesh, the same alien diet.
She knew this was… wrong. Knew that such a mountain of food should never be hers alone. And it wasn’t just the meal that was wrong; it was her.
She could count the number of occasions on which she had despaired: twice. Twice she had decided that enough was enough, and, despite the demands of her insatiable appetite, she refused to eat. Instead, she made an empty-stomached pilgrimage to the very top of the pile of food. The first time it was too big, too epic to make sense of what lay before her. She stood at the tip of a white spar that curved into the air, desperately looking for some sign of progress, some evidence of what had already felt like many lifetimes of labor, a suggestion that she had at least made inroads on her Sisyphean task.
The second time she climbed, the body was more red than gray, the massive shape less defined, the edges blurred by the repeated actions of her teeth. So it wasn’t truly Sisyphean, was it? Just incredibly, mind-numbingly, slow. But faith will move mountains. If she climbed now, she would see white. All those bones she had picked so clean were hollowed out as well, tiny holes gnawed to get at the marrow.
She would not climb again. With her now ancient age, she had grown philosophical. Perhaps it was the years without number she had spent munching the soft tissues of the beast’s gargantuan brain. Perhaps over the eons what little intellect she possessed had been honed. Straightened, like the pheromone trails she once laid—initially chaotic, steadily becoming more direct as she passed back and forth.
She didn’t leave trails anymore. What was the point? Who would follow?
Eating efficiently and methodically, she focused on her solitary task.
Chomp.
Chomp.
Swallow.
Chomp…
Until nothing remained for her to consume.
She knew, with a certainty that brooked no argument, that her meal was done. Finished. No bone left unhollowed, no morsel of any size unpicked.
As she chewed the last half mouthful, a voice echoed in the vast, empty chamber.
“… And that is how an ant eats an elephant!”
A moment of silence, then a different voice replied, lower in both pitch and volume. “I still think you cheated.”
“Dear me, Lucifer! You’re such a bad sport! Is this the ‘angels on the head of a pin’ debacle all over again? Come, then. How did I cheat?”
Again, a delay before the answer, as if the speaker chose his words with extreme care. “Well, the teeth for starters. Ants don’t normally grow new ones when they wear down.”
“Must be a mutation. Blame Darwin if you like. And anyway, you didn’t specify which type of ant, did you?”
“Which presumably explains the ant’s miraculous longevity as well. Another mutation?”
Lucifer’s question went unanswered.
“And what about the elephant?” Lucifer asked.
“What about the elephant?” the first voice said. “You’re not going to suggest it was too small, are you? We both agreed on a full-grown African bull male. Okay, it might not be the biggest elephant that ever existed, but it’s not the smallest either.”
“I’m not complaining about the size,” Lucifer replied with a hint of exasperation. “Why didn’t it rot?”
A laugh. Deep, hearty, amused. “This is heaven! No corruption allowed here. Really Lucifer, if you were relying on it rotting away before the ant could finish its meal then you should have asked for home-field advantage.” The voice became brisk. “Enough quibbling! Pay up and, as per the usual penalty, you get to clean up the mess.”
“So be it,” snapped Lucifer.
A startlingly bright light engulfed the ant, much brighter than she had ever known, and whistling air, and falling…
And falling…
The stripped carcass of the elephant hit the sparkling waters and quickly sank into the depths. All except for a hollowed-out rib bone.
The ant sat on the bone boat, her antenna waving in the salty air. All she had ever known was elephant. Now the world was expanding around her with every shift in the wind. Here came the scents of wood smoke, cooked fish, and beast spoor. And more. Vibrations of music and dancing that grew as the tide tugged her closer on every wave. There was an island nearby. It was far larger than the elephant and full of the rhythms of life. She snapped her mandibles together, reveling in the click! of her incredibly sharp teeth.
Did others of her kind live there? A hint of pheromones told her they did. Perhaps not quite like her. Maybe lesser beings, without her unique abilities. Without the parting gift from Lucifer and his unnamed companion, the sense of just how special she was. What would she be, to them? Their leader? Their Queen? Their God? Her body quivered with anticipation. She would lead them in the search for food. Would breed with them, share the blessings of her miraculous longevity, her appetite, her teeth.
And, after she and her children and her children’s children had picked this tropical island clean, would they then use the bones strewn across the beach to float to other islands, other lands, other hunting grounds?
If she had lips, the ant would have licked them.
She was hungry again.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Excellent work ! I love the story
fascinating! bets of the gods have strange consequences…
Fascinating story! I didn’t realize ants had teeth… mostly made of zinc. Great concept!
What a refreshing, interesting story! Well done.