Look, there are a few things in the world that are truly terrifying. Discovering things is by far at the top of that list.
There’s something scary about learning things. Like sure, learning is great. It’s basically what I do as a researcher, but once you discover something, once that happens, there is absolutely nothing you can do to un-discover it. No turning back.
Today, I learned how to make a nuclear bomb.
Well, not just me of course. The entire team helped. But as the lead engineer, you know, I’ll be the one they’ll be naming the bomb after.
Oh, that’s right. How rude of me. I haven’t introduced myself! My name’s Lang, Lang Gam, but you can call me Lang. I’m the lead engineer of the Puerto Princesa division of the Great Philippine Colony, the GPC for short.
“How did you do this?” asked Chief Jane. Her military uniform was pressed, prim and proper.
The lab coat weighed heavily on my shoulders. “We were experimenting with some radioactive isotopes, and we thought of barraging some of them with neutrons to destab—”
“I don’t need to hear it,” commanded the chief. We’ve been talking for a while now. She came down from the nearby mangroves on a scouting mission, a mandatory military exercise to scout the nearby areas. I heard some of her soldiers got taken by a rogue party of locusts. And that the water levels rose, again, so the weariness on her face was understandable. “This, this will win us the war.”
The way she said that rattled my thorax. “Y-you don’t mean to use it, do you?”
The chief looked at me like I had some vile disease. “You create this,” She pointed to the reactor, where a floating sphere glowed ominously, pulsing with energy. Even beyond the layers of glass and steel that shielded us from it, I can feel its raw power, its magnetic luminosity. I’m sure the chief felt it too. “And you expect us to keep it a secret? With this, we can silence all the other ant colonies, even the locusts and the beetles and put them beneath our heel. This can change everything.”
“This will change everything, Jane,” I clarified. “We’ve only discovered a fraction of what it’s capable of, a small inkling of what power this technology can hold.”
“Then the better.” The chief smiled. Her antennae moved with excited finality, wanting the conversation to be over and done with. I needed to contest her, but before I could, one of the lab doors barged open. From it came my team, all five of them, dragging their legs through the floor.
They all wore lab coats. Kassy led them, with a notebook, filled with equations only she can decipher, balancing on her forehead. She was followed by Megan and Linda, who both scraped at the corners of an emptied-out bag of popcorn, nicking their mandibles at unpopped kernels. Jin walked half asleep with eyes as baggy as her jeans. Lastly, Reine stood at the far end of the room, quiet as a… well… I can’t really compare her quietness to anything. I guess she never grew out of the first impression she made.
Kassy spoke for the interns. “Can we go now?” Kids these days.
“Sure,” I said. I snatched the lab keys from my right pocket and threw it to Kassy. She fumbled it in the air, but she catches it eventually. “Be sure to lock up.”
“I’ll be sure. Come on ladies, let’s go.” She fiddled with the keys before noticing the chief. “Oh hey, military person.”
“Hey,” the chief said uncomfortably, like the word itself was foreign to her. She turned to me, whispering. “This is the group that made that?” She motioned to the reactor.
I shrugged. The kids were geniuses, all five. But it’s clear that the chief didn’t appreciate any of that. All she wanted was what they brought to the table, not who they were.
“Boss,” said Kassy. “I’ll email you the requirements we need for the completion of our internship. Thanks for the letters of recommendation by the way.” I answered with a smile and a nod.
They went out through the main hallway which led to the exit of the lab complex, probably going straight home.
“I must head my own way as well,” the chief said. “If you will excuse me.” She headed towards the elevator on the other side of the room. Neat thing about being lead engineer, I get to have my own elevator. It goes straight from my house to the lab. It can also go straight up to the surface if I wanted to have a quick breather. And it goes to one other place.
“You’re going to the queen?”
The chief used her identification card for the elevator scanner, making the doors slide open. “I must tell her this, Lang. She’ll know what to do.” A grim look washed over her face. “She always does.” The elevator doors closed.
I slammed my desk. My pens, all of different colors, scattered across the floor. I never did that before. Kind of like how I never made a nuclear bomb before. But I guess today is the day that things change.
My hand felt numb, but that was the least of my concerns. I swiped my ID on the scanner, and I waited for the elevator to arrive. The chief was my friend, my oldest friend. We’ve known each other ever since basic school, when the elders taught us how to read, how to write, and how to carry objects twenty times our own weight. The war changed her.
The war’s changed everyone.
The elevator arrived, and quickly I pressed the button that led to my home. No, wait. That’s not where I want to be. I pressed the same button again to cancel, and instead I pressed the button to the surface. A breather, a breather is what I need.
When the elevator doors opened again, the outside greeted me for the first time in weeks. I stepped out of the elevator.
The sun glowed gloriously as it shed light on the forest of grass that lay before me. Green grass blades grew from the rugged soil, all of them loomed higher than houses. The sand beneath my feet felt warm and comforting. I breathed the air and smelled the salt of the sea. The sea that threatened everything.
The war changed Jane. Ever since Queen Helia took over and launched the Great Expanse, or should I say (to be more marketable), Project Claiming Destiny. Queen Helia had a simple goal with the initiative—to unite all the ant colonies in the world. She figured it’s been far too long since ants have worked together as a collective—as a species. That much was true.
Project Claiming Destiny started here, in the island of Palawan. Now, the GPC has its borders stretching from India to New Zealand to Korea. The Japanese ants still persist to this day, but it’s only a matter of time before they fall. On the front lines, hundreds of thousands of soldiers die on the daily, all for the sake of glory and “destiny”.
Some time ago, Chief Jane led a ten-ant contingent that snuck into enemy lines within the heart of the Indonesian forests, successfully sabotaging their supply lines. The islands fell shortly after. Upon recovery, Jane was commanded to go home on account for her mental health. She saw things in the forests, things she wouldn’t disclose, not even to me.
The soldiers said the forests were evil. I didn’t know if I could believe them. The forests were not the ones who were evil, I thought. It was war. It has always been war.
Despite our success, everyone knew Project Claiming Destiny was just lip service. A hollow promise of better days. There was no way we could ever compete with the global superpowers, like the United Colonies of the Americas or the Union of European Colonies. It was all posturing. Unity was an unreachable goal.
Somewhere beyond the trees, I heard rubber rolling violently on dirt, and the sound of large metal objects clanking against each other. Human cars, a lot of them. A caravan, maybe. Ugly things driving uglier things. The thought of humans made my shell crawl. And of course, it’s so very human of them to disrupt the peace, my peace, as humans do.
I swiped my card on the scanner and went for home.
When I opened my door, my red linen couch greeted me like it had outstretched arms ready to embrace my exhaustion. But no, it was only just a couch. And it was only just me.
“You have to do something,” a voice from the far end of the room said.
I sighed. “You’d have me do what?” I closed the door.
“Something,” she repeated. She stepped forward. My daughter, Reine, fresh back from her internship. “This’ll be a disaster.”
“I know.” I hoped I knew the answer to what her ‘something’ might be, but I didn’t. Not as her mother, not as her boss.
But she did. “I have an idea,” she said.
I rushed straight to the royal complex, not minding all the guards in place. They knew who I was, and knew I posed no threat to the queen. So when they tried to stop me and I ignored them, they ignored me too.
I barged straight into the throne room. Columns of glass pillars gleamed on either side, creating a central walkway rugged by velvet, leading straight to the throne. On the golden chair sat a particularly fat ant, as all queens were. A crown loosely dangled on her head.
“My queen,” I bowed. There, ahead of me and before the queen, Chief Jane knelt. She eyed me carefully.
“That is quite a spectacular entrance you made there for yourself, hmm?” said Queen Helia. Her antennae waved like wands. “What is it you want, doctor? The chief was just getting to the good part.”
I nodded, choosing not to say anything, yet. I had to get close. First impressions mean something. That was a lesson I taught Reine ever since she was little. But it didn’t apply only to ants. The first impression of ideas was even more valuable, more significant, more changing. That was a lesson she taught me just a few minutes ago.
Above, the ceiling was crusted with crystallized honey, reflectively golden. I could see myself. I looked so small, and my lab coat was as messy as it has ever been.
I faced the queen. Slightly in front of me, I saw Jane’s eyes flicker.
Then I spoke, “Do you want to claim destiny?”
ONE YEAR LATER
“You have this.” Jane held my hand. I needed that. Sweat was beginning to pour through every pore I had on my body, but at least she was here with me.
“And now,” a microphoned voice from past the curtains announced. “I would like to introduce to everyone the Chief Executive Engineer of the Great Philippine Colony, Lang Gam!”
“Go on, doctor.” Jane urged me onwards.
I stepped out of the curtains to the bright white spotlights of the Manila Central Stadium. The stage spread vast and wide, empty apart from the podium and me. I walked timidly to the podium, where the microphone was.
The heat of the lights made me sweat even more beneath my lab coat. Circled around me, on rows upon rows upon rows upon rows infinitely spanning, thousands of queens of all colonies around the world, great and small. They barely paid me any mind, talking among each other while servants attended them. Never have I ever seen a collection of so many crowns. And also, so many pounds.
It was amazing how Queen Helia was able to do such a thing and call a Global Council, something that’s never happened in 10,000 years.
I neared the microphone and cleared my throat. I’ve practiced my speech for weeks. Crafted it, honed it. But nothing can compare to the actual thing, and the actual thing was horrifying.
I started. “Are you tired of being so small?” But my voice cracked at the last word, and I shrunk. I don’t want to be here anymore.
Some of the queens looked in my direction, like I was an amusement. I suddenly grew conscious of my posture. I straightened my back, and kept one hand on the microphone, the other inside my pocket. Both of my hands shook uncontrollably. Calm yourself, Lang!
“Do we look smAll to you?” a queen asked, mimicking my voice. No, no you don’t. You look fat. But I kept that thought to myself. Queens don’t like that sort of language, even if they egg it on sometimes. Other queens from her section laughed. And I, well, I was screwing it up.
I wanted to retreat. I looked behind me, and there from the other side of the curtains, Jane locked on my eyes. She nodded to me. She’s right. I have to do this.
On the floor of the front row, Reine sat idly, looking at me too. When she saw me look her way, she smiled. Yeah, okay.
From my pocket, I drew out a dull lead cylinder. It had handles on its top and bottom sides. I twisted both and click, the cylinder opened, revealing a miniature sphere of nuclear fusion. A handheld sun.
It was easy from there.
The plan was simple— to stockpile enough nuclear warheads (the Lang Gam bombs), aim and launch the warheads to the most critical human cities, and have them thinking that nuclear war has begun. Knowing them, they’ll do the rest and turn on themselves like the beasts that they were.
The nuclear explosions would wipe out most of the humans. The nuclear winter would handle the rest. Without them and their machinery, and with radioactive clouds blocking the sun, global temperatures would drop. The sea would be kept at bay. No more ant hills overcome by water. No more colonies washed away by the waves.
It was a chaotic idea. It was unpredictable, insolent, and irreversible. It was Reine’s.
And so I told the queens the plan. I told them about nuclear power, and how what I had on my hand was less than a glimpse of what it was capable of. They pondered then nodded then cheered, in that order. Some of them, though. Some of them were hesitant.
“WOULDN’T THE NUCLEAR RADIATION AFFECT US TOO?” a loud queen asked.
“Luckily,” I answered. “We’re resistant to radiation. If anything, the aftereffects of the nuclear winter will only make us stronger.”
“But how about the ants in the big human cities?” asked a queen from the front. She had tattoos that covered her entire body, which I thought was kind of cool. “Wouldn’t they get killed?”
It was a legitimate question. But it was a question Queen Helia, Jane, and I have covered all the same. “We must accept that there will be causalities. We can’t escape this, but we can do our best to extremely minimize loss of ant life. We must send out advisories to everyone, all colonies and sub-colonies, to evacuate human cities at once. The best place to go would be those with sparce human life, or no human life at all, like forests and jungles and deserts. They wouldn’t launch their bombs there.”
Some queens nodded in agreement, but the tattooed one was unsatisfied. “So you’re asking us to risk our lives, to move our homes, to change everything, so we can have those pesky humans off our backs?”
“Off everyone’s backs.” Jane projected her voice so well that, even without a microphone, she was heard throughout the stadium. She walked from behind the curtain to the podium, standing next to me. She gave me a reassuring smile, placing her hand behind my back. “The humans have ransacked this planet for too long. They’ve stretched greedily, and have trampled on not only us, but every single animal, plant, and insect on Earth for too long. Try not to misunderstand the doctor, Queen Julie,” she said to the tattooed queen. “But your personal comfort means nothing to me. Sacrifice is necessary for change.”
Queen Julie chuckled and shook her head. She slacked back to her seat, looking like she hadn’t asked a question at all. Then she drew out a cigarette stick and lit it, puffing smoke to the ants beside her. No one seemed to mind.
“Okay.” I breathed to the mic. “Shall we decide on a vote?”
The vote went overwhelmingly positive. There were a few holdouts, like the loud queen, who told everyone that nuclear radiation would turn them to zombies. There, I understood why the vocal minority is indeed a minority.
All colonies around the world were given one month to relocate.
ONE MONTH LATER
“Stop shaking!” Queen Helia exclaimed. I had a hand on the button, the button. “You’ll accidentally set it off!”
“I’m sorry, I’m just nervous,” I answered.
Her face contorted. “You should be! I’d be scared if you weren’t. But please, for the love of ants, stop SHAKING!”
I smiled nervously, but I couldn’t stop myself. I could feel sweat coming out of my eyes.
“Are you ready?” asked Jane. She sat on a metal table, not looking at me. Her eyes were on the wide computer screen in front of us that showed a timer ticking down to 0. It was now on 15. Red lights flickered every time the doomsday clock moved. Sirens blared, signaling everyone to take cover and brace themselves.
14.
In the span of a year, they were able to make seven warheads.
13.
They figured seven was enough to start a nuclear war among the humans.
12.
It should be.
11.
One for every major country.
10.
One is enough to provoke them. Enough to taint their pride.
9.
One for Washington.
8.
One for Moscow.
7.
One for London.
6.
One for Paris.
5.
One for Beijing.
4.
One for Jerusalem.
3.
And one for Pyongyang.
2.
Reine held my hand, she held it tight. Her eyes were closed. She wore a lab coat that was creased and dirty and unkept.
1.
The bunker we were in felt cold for some reason. I hugged Reine. She was crying.
0.
I pressed the button, and the world shook.
SOME TIME LATER
I swiped my ID card to the elevator scanner and headed for the surface. Ever since the bombing, the elevator made this creaking sound that no one ever got to fix. At least, that’s what I heard from Reine. I never used it since.
Jane died a few weeks ago. Old age, they said. I knew the truth of it though. The burden was what killed her. The burden of that bunker dragged her down to the grave. A burden we shared.
I stepped outside for the first time since the world changed, and I breathed. The tall grass blades greeted me like an old friend, but they were solemn. The dark clouds above covered the world in gray hues and made everything seem sad.
The humans died more violently than I could have ever expected. After the seven cities fell, Russia, the United States, and China emptied their nuclear caches into the sky. The three of them were enough. Without its heads, the tails of the hydra swung violently.
From our screens down there in the bunker, we saw nations fall. France waved a gigantic white flag as a sign of surrender, but that didn’t do any good. Russia incinerated them regardless. The United Kingdom’s prime minister held a globally televised rallying call to end the bombings, but it was too late. The bombs were already on their way.
North Korea tried to do something, according to the colonies that were stationed there. But as soon as they launched their rockets, their systems malfunctioned, and the bombs landed on their own ground.
The Philippines was mostly untouched, thankfully. Nukes flew above the islands, not to it. But a few days later, the clouds rolled around, radioactive clouds. The world cooled, toxic rain fell, and resources dried. The Philippine president placed the country under martial law in an attempt to establish control.
That failed. People died in swathes, either from hunger or disease. The same went everywhere else. The nuclear winter eluded no one.
They didn’t expect a thing, of course. How could they? To expect their destruction from something so small as an ant.
The world was quieter now, more muffled and private. There were no longer ant colonies, only regions of the one massive super colony that stretched the globe. Without humans to disrupt everything, everyone else had the chance for peace.
I guess that was worth it. The colony thrived. Animals died, of course. Those who were caught up in the blasts, and those who were not resistant to the post-nuclear landscape. Sacrifice is necessary for change, I heard Jane’s words so vividly I thought it was real.
Wait, no. It was real, but the voice wasn’t Jane’s.
Ahead of me, an ant walked up the face of the anthill. She wore a long black coat that swayed with the cold air. She neared me, taking one last drag of her cigarette, before throwing it down to the sand.
Peeking from her sleeve, a tattoo of a snake wrapped around her wrist. She whistled a sad tune.
“Queen Julie,” I said. “What brings you here?”
She smiled. “Is it a sin to visit a sister?”
“I haven’t seen you since… since my speech.”
She chuckled. “I would have wanted you to answer me, not that soldier.” She spat that last word in disdain. “You were right. They killed themselves.” She looked to the distance, to the sea. The water hasn’t risen since the world cooled. “The Lang Gam bomb, you must be proud, sister.”
I smiled, or I tried to. I strained. “Why are you here?”
“Everyone’s happy. They cheer your name on the streets and on the tops of hills and trees they proclaim you— ‘Lang Gam the Great Liberator’.”
“Why are you here?”
“Everyone’s happy.” She looked at me with empty eyes. “But are you?”
“We got what we wanted. Unity, peace. The exorcism from an oppressor. We stopped the seas from flooding our homes.”
She did not relent, “But are you happy?”
I remembered the day when the bombs dropped. The humans died in their homes, burning, shouting, and crying. Their noises wailed to a fever pitch until all that was left was silence. They rather killed themselves than died.
Deep down, I knew that fate came for us too. “How can I be?”
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