From up there, all the people look like...

Standing in the last ray of the sun he watches as the clouds draw
closed like an iron curtain, leaving

darkness where once there was light. He knows them to be incapable of
malice or remorse, but still

dwells in his unjustified resentment. He understands that some things
aren't personal, but gains little

contentment from it, instead he is frustrated by the nature of the
world. The injustice of it all eats away

at him, he cannot explain, much less understand it. Though he doesn't
like it, he knows he cannot

change it, he is stuck , and so is the world. Perhaps for the first
time in his na?ve existence he realises

that some things really will never change, with age, perhaps even
wisdom, comes cynicism.

Seasons pass and an older man looks up to a different sky that hasn't
changed in an eternity. He

watches the clouds he has known since his youth, still as healthy and
free and remorseless as ever. Too

tired to wonder why he sees the same that he has always seen. He no
longer feels the impassioned

outrage he once did, he no longer even bothers to ask the questions he
once spent days pondering, he

finds it hard to even raise a strong opinion. For too many years he has
observed and carried out, never

wondering why, he tried once, and he failed, so he remained
disillusioned, but indifferently so. So he

laughs at the irony as the clouds band together to block light and hurt
others. Sure, they'll say they

aren't all bad, point to the good things they do, but he knows nothing
could save their consciences, if

they had them.

He turns away, he doesn't need to see this, if he doesn't then maybe,
just maybe, it won't exist. As he

wanders the catacombs to his home, he is met by a soldier of higher
rank. He receives his orders and

knows to follow them dutifully. He is directed to the queen's quarters,
upon arriving he kneels on four

knees, and salutes, standing only when allowed to. The queen towers
above him, menacing through

sheer size alone. She speaks with a voice given authority by the
compliance and fear of her subjects.

He isn't stupid, he knows why he is there, he knew it would happen one
day, he doesn't even fight. He

has learnt to accept all things in life, even his death.

The young are soon to be adults, a new generation of slaves, the future
of ants. He knows their

superiority, it was he who helped shape them, build them and in doing
so, destroy them. He taught

them how to learn what the queen wanted them to learn, behave the way
she wanted, and how to not

ask questions. The same lessons instilled in his life he passed on to
theirs, he dies with what he learnt

himself. He mourns the loss of their young minds, as well as his own,
as the queen towers above him

leaving darkness where once there was light.