The old man and the ants
"If man wants to become God, he arrogates to himself the power of life or death over others" - Albert Camu
John was sixty-two now and spent his days wondering the fields around his country house. He lived in an isolated area surrounded by a small community he never really bothered to integrate with. He preferred solitude, choosing to romanticise the stillness of his life and the peace he had achieved in his day to day routine. His whole life he had been what was typically perceived by others as a loner however he bore no quarrel with this definition rather seeing it fit to his personality.
One day while on one of his walks he came across a trail of ants marching in single file. Upon closer inspection the black beaded trail seemed to have no true destination in sight. They were wondering the field aimlessly. Intrigued, John followed their aimless walk and after a while thought it would be just to help them. He carved a large slice from the apple he had been carrying and placed it on the ground near the troop ushering the leader towards it. Soon it spawned a swarm of chaos. The crowd of ants now appeared to bear an electric buzz about them relishing the sweetness of their fruit gift. After finding some amusement in watching the spectacle he went home and thought little of the interaction after.
A few days passed and finally his curiosity overtook him, so he decided to check on the ants to see what had become of their fate.
He found them right where he left them. The apple was all but gone. And in its place a few small mounds of dirt had sprouted with holes burrowing deep into their surface. Excited by the development John placed another slice down and watched once again as the ants rushed out of their new lair laying siege to the slice in a frenzy. He paused to enjoy the familiar scene and after a while left. Only now, he couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of empowerment. He felt that he was responsible for the ant’s new purpose. He had given, maybe not intentionally, them a home.
John went again to see the ants. They had conquered a small patch of land and had covered it in a constructed array of slightly larger mounds littered with entrances and exits. All except the area where John had been placing the apple slices. He marvelled in this fact. Filled with a sense of importance John knew that while the ants could never possibly perceive him for what he really was, they had some understanding of his existence and role in their lives. He laughed. To him they were merely an entertaining distraction, however they treated him and this routine as a crucial component of their being.
He started to spend more time with the ants. He felt that he couldn’t abandon them as he was too important to them. The cruel ideas lurking in the back of his mind came to the forefront and to see whether their bond was true he tested their loyalty. He would pour water on parts of their city forcing them to evacuate certain tunnels, drowning any ants unable to escape the surge. He would flick over their mounds crushing scurrying ants in piles of dirt. He watched as these inconsequential beings, with lives so fragile and meaningless took his brutal punishments head on repairing the damage and all the while leaving still the area where he placed the apple slices untouched. This pleased him immensely, so he rewarded them another piece of salvation, and once again they swarmed the apple slice like they had done every time.
An unhealthy obsession overtook his mind and he started to spend his days watching the ants toil on. His tests of loyalty became harsher. He dealt more damage to their civilisation than ever before but watched again and again as they merely built their mounds higher. What started as rubble was now an elaborate interconnected system of spiralling towers, intricate structures, and a catacomb of tunnels. He took pride in his creation. Justifying his treatment of them as a means to this thriving community. All the while they left the area for the slice open.
One day when he went to observe his kingdom, he found it abandoned. The tunnels cold. The towers empty. He started to worry and bestowed his usual gift onto them in the hope that they would emerge thankful as they always did. It remained untouched.
He searched the field all day in a desperate attempt to locate his ants. Finally, he found them. Huddled together around a piece of orange someone had dropped on the trail.
He went home. It was cold. He felt his loneliness now as a void rather than a luxury. The emptiness of his reality started to set in and for the first time John experienced despair over his way of life. His days grew dreary, and he obsessed with jealousy over how his ants could so easily have left him. After all he did for them. They just left him alone and afraid.
One morning he couldn’t bear the thoughts any longer. So, he set off back into the field in search of a new mindless trail. Only now he was carrying a pear.