The little ant couldn’t remember how he had gotten lost. He was in the middle of an expanse with no sense of direction. The ground under his feet was hard. He had nothing with him other than the grain of rice that he held in his mandibles. He had no thoughts in his head other than delivering the grain of rice to the colony. It was so peculiar, the little ant thought to himself, that he could not remember anything from before. He could not remember the queen, not specifically at least. He could not remember what she looked like, only that he did in fact have a queen. He could not remember his brothers or the tunnels inside the ant hill, only that he did in fact have a home and the colony was waiting for him and depending on him to deliver the grain of rice.

The first few seconds, which are whole days in ant time, the ant spent in despair. “How did this happen to me?” he asked himself over and over again. He felt disconnected, alone, and purposeless. The colony is the reason to live for an ant. Without his queen and worker brothers, the ant felt no energy for life. But he still had the grain of rice in his mandibles. He had a duty to the colony, he remembered. Thus concluded his period of despair and reintroduced to the little ant the resolve that is customary for his kind.

He was hungry. He thought of taking a little bite from the grain of rice. No he could not, he told himself. It was for the colony. The colony needed it more than he did.

The little ant looked around to see in what direction he might start to search for the colony. He was in a foreign place, or at least a place that he did not remember. In all directions, it was only flat and there was nothing noticeable to be seen. The little ant realized there was nothing that would tell him which direction to choose. He picked up the grain of rice with his mandibles and started off in the direction that he was already facing.

It was many minutes that the little ant marched straight in the same direction. He was careful to pay attention to the movements of his legs. Because he had no information neither from his sight nor from the smell of the colony, he had to be careful this his steps on the left and right sides were equal, to guarantee that he moved forward in the same straight line. He was also counting the number of steps that he took to know exactly how far he had traveled.

If he did not find anything in this direction, he would turn around and walk back in the exact same direction from where he came. He reasoned to himself that he could not be far from the colony. He did not want to risk marching off in the wrong direction, away from the colony. He planned to set out on equidistant paths from the center where he started. This would allow him to cover the most ground, closest to where he began.

There were occasionally long ropes scattered on the hard floor. The little ant dared not leave his track to examine them until he came across one of the ropes in his path. It was not a rope, but a strand of hair. It was much longer than ant hair. He wondered to what kind of beast such a long hair could belong. He wondered if such a beast had anything to do with his separation from the colony. The little ant felt a sudden fear for the colony. He hoped they were safe from this great beast. He stepped over the hair and shuddered as he did. He continued on the same path, keeping his left and right steps equal.

The little ant had no way of keeping track of time other than the steps he had counted. He had taken twenty-five-thousand-six-hundred-and-twenty-eight steps. He had not stopped other than to briefly examine the strand of hair from the great beast. The little ant wondered to himself how many steps he would take before he would turn around and retrace his steps backwards. He cursed his predicament for he had no sense of how large was this vast expanse that he was in. If he only knew, then he could determine how far he needed to travel in each direction. The best he could do was to guess.

The ant was now more hungry than he was before. Time would become a factor unless he found something else to eat. He would dare not take even the smallest bite from the grain of rice. The rice was for the colony. There was no purpose in him even returning to the colony if he did not bring the grain of rice.

When the little ant reached fifty-thousand steps, he turned around. He was very careful when he turned. He composed himself and stood straight as an arrow in the direction that he was facing. He took note of the position of his body. He would do it in two movements, he decided. The first would be a quarter-turn to his right. He would then make a second quarter-turn to complete a one-hundred-and-eighty degree-turn so that he would be facing, hopefully, in the exact direction from which he came. He cursed himself for not marking the spot from which he had originally departed. He could have carved a large “X” in the floor with his mandible. Now he had no way of knowing if the measurements and count for his steps were accurate. He would have to trust them. He had no choice.

The ant started his fifty-thousand-step journey. He crossed the large strand of hair at roughly the same step, which was a good sign that he was on the right track. When the ant counted his fifty-thousandth step, he started the count over. He was now tracing new steps.

When the ant was a third of the way into his journey in the second direction, there was all of a sudden a great shadow cast over the whole of the expanse for as far as the little ant could see in any direction. Instinctually, the little ant dropped the grain of rice from his mandibles and did his best to crawl atop it and cover it with his body (the grain of rice was several times the size of the little ant). Just as quickly as it had come, the shadow passed and the light from an unknown source returned to the whole landscape. The little ant shuddered. What was that? He wondered to himself. Did it have anything to do with the giant strands of hair that were scattered all around? Did the shadow belong to the great beast?

The little ant stood immobilized for some time. What would he do if confronted with such a large beast? He did not know, he told himself. There was only one thing he could do. He picked up the grain of rice in his mandibles. Before he began again, he realized that he might have lost his direction slightly after having thrown his body on top of the grain of rice and losing his footing as a result. There was nothing he could do about it now. He reset his track as best he could and took a step to continue on.

Nothing occupied the little ant’s mind other than the count of his steps and the soft embrace with which he gripped the grain of rice in between his jaws. He started to feel a kinship with the rice. At first he scolded himself for giving into delirium. He longed for the companionship of his brother ants and his queen. It was not for an ant to be alone. Still, even as he admonished himself, he could not help but feel connected to the grain of rice. At times, he swore that he could feel a soft rhythm like a heartbeat against his mandibles. It was only the vibrations from his steps, he told himself. Grains of rice did not have heartbeats.

He had now gone more than forty-thousand steps in this second direction. He was twice as hungry as before. He started to feel a weakness in his legs and mandibles but dared not pay attention to this. He was still likely very far from the colony. He did not even know anything about where he was. The most frightening thought crept into his mind, the colony might be no more.

After all, he did not remember anything. How could he be so sure that he even had a colony? The little ant shook his head, trying to shake out these thoughts. He admonished himself two-fold: for having thoughts in the first place, and for not keeping his head straight and rigid in the interest of staying on the path.

There was no productive outcome of thoughts like these, he reminded himself. The only productive thoughts led to action in the service of the colony. Any thoughts that led to either inaction or action not in service of the colony were thoughts not to be had. The little ant marched on, recommitted to his steps and maintaining the posture of his mandibles, even though the joints of his jaw had started to ache severely—the ant didn’t think of this.

At precisely forty-four-thousand-five-hundred-and-eighty-six steps, there was another shadow. This shadow was different, however. It was static and non-moving, not like the beast’s. The little ant set down the grain of rice carefully to get a better look. In the distance there was a vague color not like the hazy blur of nothingness. It was a wall! He could not see the ceiling but he knew it was a wall. The little ant did not know how he knew this, or from where he had learned the concept of a “room.” But he knew it, as sure as he believed that he had come from a colony.

The wood inside of a wall would provide an ideal home for a colony. The little ant contained his excitement and reminded himself to focus on only two things: counting his steps and holding the grain of rice in his mandibles.

The little ant passed fifty-thousand steps in this second direction. According to the plan, he should have turned around. However, finding the wall justified an update to the plan—the little ant reasoned with himself.

At sixty-three-thousand-one-hundred-and-twenty-nine steps, the little ant stopped with the grain of rice against the wooden, painted-white floorboard of the wall. The little ant didn’t move. He surveyed to the left and the right, along the floorboard. To the right, the floorboard appeared to go on out of sight, undisturbed. To the left, there was a part where the head of a nail protruded from the floorboard and it looked as if the board was pulled slightly away from the wall. Maybe there was an opening where he could get in, the little ant said to himself.

The risk of exploring the possible opening was that the little ant would have to abandon the rigid structure of his exploration. He could not, however, pass up this opportunity to explore the opening. He resolved to measure, as best he could, the angle at which he now faced the floorboard. The little ant determined it was about sixty-degrees with respect to the floorboard to his right, and therefore one-hundred-and-twenty degrees with respect to the floorboard to his left.

It was becoming difficult for the little ant to remember all these numbers. He made it easier for himself by dispensing with all the other superfluous pieces of information in his mind which were not essential to bringing the grain of rice to the colony. He systematically disposed of any emotions and any ideas about where he had come from.

Then, returning his mind to the numbers, the little ant realized, if the room was rectangular (he seemed to recall that most rooms were), the line along which the little ant had explored thus far, which ran exactly one-hundred-and-thirteen-thousand-one-hundred-and-twenty-nine steps, was diagonal with respect to the walls of the room. This being the case, the little ant imagined he might amend his plan and, instead of returning back to the center where he would continue in a third direction, he would search along this floorboard until he found a corner of the room. The chances were greater, he reasoned, that he would find a corner if he followed the board to the left. If he found a corner, he could make estimates for the size and the shape of the room, given the measurements he already had. This was assuming, of course, that he would not find the colony behind the opening between the floorboard and the wall.

All this, the little ant thought of, while still standing motionless facing the floorboard with the grain of rice pinched gently in between his mandibles, careful not to adjust even slightly his exact position until he was sure that he had all the measurements he needed. He was sure now. He turned to his left and started to move carefully along the floorboard towards the protruding nail which the little ant assumed would mark an opening to the interior of the wall.

At only two-hundred-and-forty-seven steps from where he had first faced the floorboard, the little ant came to the protruding nail. There was indeed a small opening between the board and the wall where the paint was chipped away. It was roughly the width of three little ants. Peering into the opening, it was like a long dark cave. The little ant was afraid. He dispensed with this emotion as superfluous. The colony might be at the end of this cave, the little ant told himself. He adjusted the grain of rice in between his mandibles, made his way into the cave, and started leftward.

It was dark. There was a thin ray of light that seeped in between the top of the floorboard and the wall. This ray illumined only a small part of the little ant’s path inside the cave. He relied mostly on the sense of the board to his left and the wall to his right, as he occasionally bumped into either side with the grain of rice. The little ant was very sorry to the grain of rice each time that this happened. He tried with all his strength and concentration to avoid these bumps but he had become very hungry and weak as a result. He occasionally faltered to either side as his legs had begun to fail.

After seventy-four steps from the opening of the floorboard, faintly at first, then louder; the little ant could hear a bustle up ahead. At first he was excited. It’s the colony! He told himself. The end of his journey is near! The little ant marched forward with a newfound exuberance and strength. He craned his neck and hoisted the grain of rice high. He thought of seeing the queen and his brothers.

Then the little ant’s exuberant march slowed. He listened closer to the bustle and his stomach turned. He listened to the heavy steps and their rhythm. They were not like ant steps. They were heavy and spaced out. This was something bigger than an ant.

The little ant stopped and stared as deep into the cave as he could. Whatever it was was coming closer, straight towards the little ant, and fast. The little ant took a step backwards, and then another. By the time the hairy fangs became visible in the thin ray of light, the little ant was moving backwards as fast as his legs would carry him. He could have moved faster if he dropped the grain of rice, but he dared not. The spider was very fast and closing the distance between them.

In his mind the little ant displaced his fear and counted his steps backward. Twenty-five … fifteen … five … Just as the ant whipped his backside to the left where he knew he would find the opening, the spider lunged forward and snapped his fangs after the little ant.

Outside the cave, bathed in light, the little ant laid on his back inviting in air through his spiracles. For a brief moment the ant allowed horror at the spider to take the place of his concern for the grain of rice. When he realized the grain was no longer clenched between his mandibles, the ant jumped to his feet only to find that there was something very wrong with one of his front legs. As he tried to support himself, he fell forward onto his right mandible. The spider had severed his right front leg at the joint. A clear liquid seeped out from where the little ant’s leg was detached.

This injury, however, was secondary to his concern for the grain of rice. He looked around, ignoring the pain in his leg. Luckily, the grain was beyond the opening in the floorboard. The little ant limped over and picked up the grain with his mandibles.

The little ant felt his pain only insofar as he needed it to assess his ability to carry on. Combined with his hunger, the loss of blood was now weakening the little ant significantly. He would carry on. There was nothing else to do. With the grain of rice securely in his jaws, the little ant limped along the floorboard in the leftward direction (relative to where he had first faced the board). The little ant shuddered to think that the spider was just on the other side of the board. He could not get out, the little ant told himself. The opening was too small. Besides, he could not think of that. He had to continue on in this direction no matter what.

The little ant carried on. He continued to count his steps. It helped him to ignore the pain in his leg. This would be the last segment of his journey, the little ant knew. He would not be able to return to the center and continue his systematic exploration.

The little ant thought of nothing. He did not even process the information that came in through his eyes. He did not smell. He did not think of anything other than the count of his steps, and increasing the number by moving forward. All the while, clear liquid seeped from his leg.

He carried on like this, until step thirty-thousand-seven-hundred-and thirty-eight since the opening in the floorboard, the little ant ran headlong into another wall. He had reached the corner! Though the little ant could not spare any energy for excitement.

He craned his neck upward and started to climb. Normally, the little ant could have climbed the wall vertically. Impaired as he was without the full function of his right front leg, he was forced to crawl up the corner with his right shoulder relying on one of the walls for support. With his neck craned back as far as possible, he could just barely keep the grain of rice in his mandibles from scraping against the wall. Like this, the little ant climbed.

At several points, he stopped to rest, focusing all his strength on the grip of his claws that held him to the wall. He feared if he did not do this occasionally, he would fall backwards. How high the little ant climbed did not matter, he had no room left in his mind for the fear of his own death. He could not even remember the numbers anymore, not the angles nor the steps he had taken. That was all beside the point now.

The stops for rest grew more frequent until with every step the little ant feared he might let go. Then the wall that made up the left half of the corner, gave way to a countertop. The little ant scrambled onto this flat surface, thankful for the ground to rest his tired legs and the space to adjust his craned neck. The ant rested, with the grain of rice clenched in his mandibles. He would die with the grain of rice in his jaws, he told himself. He felt that death was near.

The little ant got up to his feet. The clear liquid had stopped seeping from his front leg. The little ant wondered if he had any blood left. He wondered if he had already died and he was now just hallucinating. The little ant looked around at what lay on the countertop. He did not recognize anything. The shampoo bottles and electric razors made no sense to him. They were all merely objects that were not his colony, and therefore meaningless.

It was towards the end for the ant. He knew this. His eyes were starting to dim. For the first time in his long journey, the little ant started to lose hope. He knew he only had the energy for a short distance. He crawled towards the row of hair product cans. He stumbled and fell every two or three steps. He made his way behind the cans and laid down on his back. How long he spent like this he did not know. There was almost no light left in the world.

The little ant had been unconscious for some time when he woke with a start. There was another ant leaning over him. The little ant thought that he was seeing himself. It was his spirit, the little ant told himself. His spirit spoke to him. It said, “Well done, brother.” The spirit ant touched his mandibles to the little ant’s. The little ant felt the mandibles. This was not a spirit ant, the little ant realized.

He heard other voices. He turned his head slowly with what little strength he had left. There were a dozen or so ants. The little ant breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned his head back. They were talking about a great beast. Many ants were lost. These were among the few survivors.

With what little strength he had, the little ant opened his eyes. There was another ant leaning over him, assessing him, clicking his mandibles in thought. He watched this ant look away at the others and shake his head. This ant too touched his mandibles to the little ant’s.

The brother ant came back; he seemed to be the leader of the survivors. “I brought the grain of rice,” the little ant said to him, “for the colony.” He took a shallow breath with great effort

The brother ant looked at the little ant, confused. “What do you mean?” asked the brother ant.

“The grain of rice,” whispered the little ant. “I brought it … food … for the colony.”

The brother ant laughed. “That is not a grain of rice, brother! That is an egg. And not just any egg, brother. It is a queen egg.”

The little ant was overcome with warm rapture. He asked himself, how had he not known? But then again, how could he have? He had never before seen a queen egg.

While the little ant was thinking to himself and remembering the encounter with the spider and the climb up the cliff face and how he could have lost the queen egg. He silently thanked the almighty for granting him the strength to deliver the queen egg back to the colony.

The brother ant continued, “We lost our queen in the battle with the great beast. Without her, we were all prepared to die soon. Without a reason to live, we had thought of throwing ourselves from the cliff here. You have delivered life and purpose to us, brother. We will rebuild a new colony for the new queen.”

The rest of the ants gathered around the little ant. An ant much larger and stronger than the little ant now carried the queen egg in his mandibles. The rest of the ants clicked their mandibles in  honor of the little ant. “Sleep now, brother. You have done your duty to the colony.” The little ant relaxed his mandibles and leaned his head back and went to sleep.