—-“Where is MothWorld. Gypsy?” Tony asked.
“It’s not a place Tony, it’s a way of life,” she replied, “It is an attitude of understanding then compassion, tolerance and communication. It is living in harmony, in simple consideration of others. It is freedom from all tyranny to live as we choose,” she tailed off. “You’ll see, Tony. One day I know you will see!”—-
—-“Well done! Captain,” answered Tony, “I’ll speak to them now.” The three of them walked over to the patrol of soldier-ants. They were all big, fit-looking ants with purposeful expressions on their faces; hand-picked members of the Special Ant Service. He’d seen soldier-ants before, usually they were on leave and making the most of their time-off in one of the colonies’ bars. Of course, there were some who’d had too much and they’d shout and boast to anyone who would listen. What with their reflective shades and hi-tech gadgets they looked like Christmas trees, swaying in the breeze.
The bar-ant was less poetic, “Special Ant Service!” He had snorted, “More like, “Special Asshole Service!”’—-
—-“What’s your name son?” asked Tony.
“McAnt. Sir. Angus McAnt. Sir!” replied the young ant. “Oh, you must be Scottish?” said Tony.
“No! Sir!” said Angus.
“Then perhaps your parents?” Tony nodded.
“No! Sir! Not them either.:
“Good! Well, well done son. Keep it up!” said Tony. He wished he’d never asked.
“Pete!” he hissed, Pete’s head popped up. “Let’s go!” mouthed Tony. Pete made a circle in the air and pointed, the troops rose and advanced after him. On and on they yomped!
The sun began to sink and the sarge-ant was thinking about camp for the night. He caught up with Tony and said: “Time to bivvie! Sir!” he said, “before the sun goes down.”
“This is no place to be thinking about a drink sarge-ant!” Tony replied.
“No! Sir! I mean: ‘bivvie!’ Sir! Make a bivouac for the night. Sir!”
“Of course,: said Tony, “carry on!” he said. He thought the sarge-ant had said: ‘bevy!’—-
—-He walked to stand in front of them, the chart behind him. “Friends!” He called, and the hubbub fell silent. “Fellow…” and he looked about him at the array of different creatures waiting on his word. “Fellow Life-Forms!” He shouted, and they all cheered.
More were still arriving; by air and by foot. Until they began to spill over the beach, up around the trunk, on each other’s shoulders, in the foliage. Everyone wanted to be a part.
“Welcome!” And they cheered again. “We are gathered here today,” he began, “to form a plan,”
“…to confront the giants!”
“…who threaten us all!”
“Whilst we have been quietly living,”
“…some have been busily destroying the ground on which we live,”
“…the food which we eat,”
“…the air that we breathe,”
“…and even the genetics of our futures yet unborn!”
“Fellow Life-Forms,” he continued. “Now is the time! The time to say: ‘NO!’ The time to stand up,”
“…and say…We will not take it anymore!”
“This!” And he threw his arms open wide. “Not for ourselves,”
“…nor our children,”
“…not even the children of our children’s children,”
“…but for those…” his voice cracked with emotion, “for those…” he tried again, staring at his spellbound audience.
It was Tina who started it: “Tony! Tony!” She chanted, and stamped the sand with her foot. “Tony! Tony! Tony!” The rest of the tree-frogs took up the beat.
“SKRARK! Tony!” Joined in the eagles.
“Tony! Tony!” The deep bass of Joey and his fifty or so pals boomed in.
“Tony! Tony!” The sound grew and spread like a ripple through the crowd, stamping and clapping. “Tony! Tony! Tony! Tony!” He held up his arms, but they would not be stopped. “Tony! Tony! Tony!” The noise spread further though the jungle.
Tony waved his arms. “Friends!” He cried, “Friends!” The chanting fell back into silence. “I have a plan!” He said.
“Tony! Tony! Tony!” They started again, but Tony waved them down. “We shall send a delegation to these giants.”
“We shall talk with them,”
“…and find a common path!”
“Who shall go?” He shouted.
“Tony! Tony! Tony!” They replied.
“I will go!” He announced, and they went wild. Someone threw a hat into the air.—
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