Of Ants and Dinosaurs

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.

And so it was that as the dinosaur guard of honour sounded their fanfare of bugles, a phalanx of 100,000 soldier ants escorted their queen into the hall. Tightly packed into a dense black quadrilateral of precisely two square metres, the ants advanced slowly across a floor as smooth and shiny as a mirror and halted before the dinosaur emperor, who had come to receive the queen.

Emperor Urus greeted his opposite number. ‘Hello there, Queen Lassini! Are you out in front of that black square?’ He stooped and peered intently at the ground in front of the word corps, then shook his enormous head. ‘How long has it been since we last saw each other – a year? The last time we met, I could still see you, but that’s quite impossible now. Ah, but I am old, and my eyes are not what they were.’

The black square broke apart and rapidly re-formed as a line of dinosaur-sized text: ‘Perhaps the colour of the floor is to blame. You should really use white marble here, so that you can see me. Her Imperial Majesty Lassini, Sovereign of the Formican Empire, presents her compliments to His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Urus.’

Urus smiled and nodded. ‘Well now, my compliments also to Her Imperial Majesty. I presume the imperial emissary has already notified you regarding the agenda of this summit?’

Craning her neck in the direction of the dinosaur emperor towering before her, Queen Lassini inclined her antennae and gave her answer in the form of a pheromone. When the commanders in the front row received the chemical signal, they swiftly relayed the instructions to the phalanx behind them. The disciplined soldiers of the word corps changed formation like a well-oiled machine, arranging themselves into the queen’s words in the blink of an eye: ‘The aim of this summit is to settle the religious dispute between our two worlds. This problem has plagued us since the reign of the late emperor, and now it has become the most serious crisis yet faced by the dinosaur–ant alliance. I expect Your Majesty is aware that Earth stands on the brink of disaster as a result.’

Urus nodded again. ‘I am indeed aware of that. No doubt Your Majesty is similarly cognisant that the resolution of this crisis presents us with a considerable challenge. Where do you propose we begin?’

The queen thought for a moment before she replied, and the word corps rearranged themselves across the marble floor at lightning speed: ‘Let us begin with the point we are agreed upon.’

‘Very good. Dinosaurs and ants are agreed that this world can have only one God.’

‘Yes, that’s correct.’

Both rulers fell briefly silent, then Urus said, ‘We should discuss what God looks like, even though we have been over this a thousand times before.’

‘Yes,’ Lassini said, ‘that is the crux of the conflict and the crisis.’

‘God undoubtedly resembles a dinosaur,’ said the dinosaur emperor. ‘We have seen God through our faith, and God’s image embodies all dinosaurs.’

‘God undoubtedly looks like an ant,’ said the ant queen. ‘We have also seen God through our faith, and all ants are reflected in God’s image.’

Urus smiled broadly and waggled his mammoth head. ‘Queen Lassini, if you were the least bit logical or had a smidgen of common sense, this problem would be sorted in a jiffy. Do you truly believe that God could possibly be a dust-mote speck of an insect like you? That such a God could create a world as vast as this?’

‘Size does not equal strength,’ Lassini replied. ‘Compared with mountain ranges or oceans, dinosaurs too are mere “dust-mote specks”.’

‘But the fact is, Your Majesty, that we dinosaurs are the fount of original thought, the purveyors of creativity. And when all is said and done, you ants are nothing but tiny cogs in a highly efficient machine.’

‘The world cannot have been created by thought alone. If it were not for our expertise, most dinosaur inventions and innovations could not have been realised. The creation of the world was clearly a precise and meticulously executed undertaking. Only an ant God could have accomplished it.’

Urus burst out laughing. ‘What I find most intolerable about you ants is your pitiful imaginations! Those bite-sized brains of yours are obviously only fit for simple arithmetical thinking. You truly are no more than desperately dogged cogs!’ As he spoke, he bent his face low to the ground and whispered to the ant queen, ‘Let me tell you, when God created the world, no action was required. God simply gave form to thoughts and – whoosh! – those thoughts became the world! Ha ha ha!’ He straightened up and guffawed again.

‘Sir, I did not come here to discuss metaphysics with you. This drawn-out dispute between our two worlds must be resolved at this meeting.’

Urus threw up his claws and boomed, ‘Ah-ha! Result! Here is the second point upon which we are agreed! Yes, we must come to an accord this time round. Your Majesty, you may propose your solution first.’

Lassini gave her answer without hesitation. In order to convey the solemnity of her pronouncement, the word corps added a border around her words: ‘The Saurian Empire must immediately demolish all churches consecrated to a dinosaur God.’

Urus and the other ministers in the room eyeballed each other then erupted into a great cacophony of chortles. ‘Ha ha, big words from a bitsy bug!’

Lassini continued undeterred. ‘The ants will suspend all work in the Saurian Empire and withdraw completely from every dinosaur city. We will not return or resume work until your churches have been demolished in accordance with our demands.’

‘I will also deliver an ultimatum from the Saurian Empire,’ bellowed Urus. ‘The Formican Empire must demolish all churches consecrated to an ant God by week’s end. When the week is up, the imperial army will stomp flat any ant city in which a church to an ant God still stands.’

‘Is this a declaration of war?’ Lassini asked calmly.

‘I hope it will not come to that. What a disgrace it would be for dinosaur troops to have to confront you itsy insects.’

The ant queen did not dignify that with an answer. She simply made a sharp about-turn and pattered away. The word corps parted to let her pass, closed ranks behind her and followed her to the palace door.

There was a general stirring now among the dinosaurs. Ants began emerging from the miniature nests that were hung about the dinosaurs’ bodies or placed on the tables before them; they spilt out in their inky-black hundreds and thousands. For although the dinosaur printing industry had been mechanised, individual dinosaurs still carried small nests with them, just as we carry pens. They relied on ants to write their personal notes and missives. The nests varied in size, and some were veritable works of art. Among dinosaurs, they had become a must-have personal ornament and a symbol of wealth and status. But the ants inside the nests were not the dinosaurs’ personal property. They had to be hired from the Formican Empire, and ultimately they answered only to their queen. Swarming down from the tables and off the dinosaurs’ bodies, these ants were now streaming across the floor to join the departing phalanx.

‘Good grief,’ rasped a dinosaur minister, ‘if all of you leave, how am I to draft and review documents?’

Urus gave a theatrical flick of his claws. ‘They’ll be back to work before long,’ he said contemptuously. ‘The ant world cannot survive without us. Fret not, we will show those upstart insects who truly has God on their side.’

At the door, Lassini turned around and spoke, and the word corps swiftly formed a line of text: ‘That is exactly what the Formican Empire intends to show you.’