“Why have you come here?” the Queen asked.
“I thought you knew,” he said. “I thought you planned all this.”
“I want to hear it in your own words.”
“I came for my friend. That’s all.”
“Did a voice tell you to do this?”
“No.”
“The prophecy, perhaps?” she asked. “A holy book?”
“ ‘The Warrior and the Mother,’ you mean?” he asked. “No. I don’t have EMSAH. I’m not a believer.”
“Then what brings you here?”
“I told you. She’s my friend.”
The Queen tilted her head as she contemplated this. She doesn’t understand, he thought. She doesn’t know what a friend is. Or, even worse: she does know, and she realizes that she can’t have one herself.
“Your quest is irrational,” she said. “You want what you cannot have, and you believe you are entitled to it. This is virtually the same as EMSAH. EMSAH is the opposite of the gift we gave to you. EMSAH is a perversion of it. We wanted to see if your people could survive without succumbing to these human impulses.”
“I don’t care,” Mort(e) said. “Is she here or not?”
The Queen tilted her head in the other direction, making the ancient antennae flop around like two stiff dreadlocks.
“I’ve come a long way,” he said. “I’m not a philosopher. I’m a house slave who woke up one morning acting like a human.”
To the Queen’s left, an aperture opened. The bed of ants spread out, leaving a path from Mort(e) to the resulting doorway. He took the trail to the opening. The room inside was arranged like a human house. A green carpet extended from wall to wall, absorbing the overhead fluorescent light. A bag of laundry rested in the corner, the blue sleeve of a hoodie sticking out the top. There was a desk with a computer beside a homemade wooden shelf full of VHS tapes. An exact replica of the Martinis’ basement.
He stopped and stared at the Queen. She had nothing to say.
He entered the room. A curtain hung from an exposed pipe on the ceiling. The ants had gotten every detail right, even down to the musty smell of the carpet. Mort(e) saw his hand pull the curtain to the side.
Like a dream, Sheba lay in the warm spot beside the furnace. Her tail lifted from the floor when Sebastian entered. Everything melted away. There was no fight with Daniel, no puppies, no war, no EMSAH. He was Sebastian. There was only this spot, and this friend, and this house with its square of sunlight. The outside world had never crept inside to ruin everything. He was safe.
Sheba was unchanged. Her paws still had hair. She stood up on all fours. Not a day had gone by for her, it seemed.
Mort(e) walked to her and knelt down. She let him wrap his arms around her neck. She licked his face.
I know you, she seemed to say. Where have you been?
Mort(e) closed his eyes and wept.
Some time passed. A rumbling began all around him. Mort(e) opened his eyes to find the shape of the room changing. The doorway widened until there was no wall between the replica of the basement and the Queen’s court. The furniture and other props remained, but as the ground stretched out, these objects were pressed into a corner at the far end of the chamber. The ants swarmed about them, so that the only space in the room not covered by insects was a small circle where Mort(e) embraced Sheba.
The ants once again formed a path, this time leading to the foot of the Queen. Mort(e) took it, with Sheba hopping alongside him like a pet.
“Why hasn’t she changed?” he asked. “Why isn’t she like everyone else?”
“The woman found her on the road on the way out of town,” the Queen said. “And when we captured the family, the child — Michael — tried to defend the dog with his life. This intrigued us, so we observed. When we tested the translator on him, we learned that you had allowed this family to live. And that you were trying to find her. I decided to keep the dog from changing. She seemed happier that way.”
“And you let Michael escape?”
“Yes,” she said. “The other prisoners interpreted the effects of the translator as a sign that their god had chosen him as his vessel. They formed a cult around him. So I let them flee to see how his story would affect both the remaining humans and the other animals. It did what I expected it to do. Some took advantage of it. Some embellished it. Many believed, and acted on their belief.
“All the while,” she said, “we were watching you. As the humans spread their stories, we put you in a position to make a monumental decision for all life on this planet.”
Mort(e) scratched Sheba’s head. She pressed her skull into his stubby fingers, happy for the contact.
“Are you listening?” the Queen said.
“Yes,” he said, not looking up.
“There is no excuse,” the Queen said. “You have two choices. You can stay here and live in comfort with your friend. I will call off the quarantine. I will even give you a dose of the hormone that you can administer to the dog as you wish.”
With that, a clump of smaller ants scurried over her left shoulder, carrying a shiny blue pellet. A pill. The Queen took it from them. Mort(e) noticed that her claws had evolved somehow, making them more like hands. The pill resembled a large jewel in the bony clasp of an old woman.
“Or,” the Queen continued, “you can leave here and fulfill the false prophecy.”
“You’ll let me leave?”
“Yes,” the Queen replied. “But once you reach the surface, you will be quarantined like all the rest. The apocalypse that your human allies have been praying for will finally be at hand. I rescued you from your gods, but there will be no second chance for your species. I have learned to accomplish extraordinary things, but I cannot remove evil from a person’s heart. I cannot make a person see the truth.”
“Does it matter to you that I made her a promise?” Mort(e) said. “Even if she couldn’t understand it?”
“I made a promise as well,” the Queen said, her tone changing from stern to soothing, the way Janet would speak when trying to calm one of the children. “I would like for you to stay. I know that you have an inquisitive mind. You would enjoy the wonders that the Colony would share with you. No one else has to die. All you have to do is make the right choice. For her and for you. For us.”
“Let me talk it over with my friend here,” Mort(e) said, patting Sheba on her side. He imagined that the Queen would have grimaced at this, if she had had a proper face.
He knelt on the ground, opened his pack, and removed the metal water canteen. Unscrewing the top, he held it out for Sheba to drink. He poured it while she lapped up the column of water.
Another egg dropped from the Queen’s abdomen.
“You think I’m in danger of believing in some invisible human in the sky,” Mort(e) said. “But it’s not like that at all.”
“I believe in this,” he said, pointing to Sheba as she drank. “I remember my time with my friend. I realize that these things don’t last. But I will fight for them.”
“Maybe we have much to learn from each other,” the Queen said.
The water was finished. Mort(e) shook the canteen over his free hand until a small vial dropped out. He placed the canteen on the ground. Sheba tried to probe it with her snout. He rose, the vial in his hand. The Queen’s antennae extended from her head until they formed a perfect V.