SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

You could determine a nest’s structure by pouring in cement or hot metal, and then digging it out after it hardened. Some nests had one vertical shaft, with side tunnels of decreasing size—like an upside-down Christmas tree. Some had four or five main shafts. Others were as big as a football field, with chambers large enough to hold a watermelon.

The different structures helped the heat and air flow. Or prevented flooding. Which was exactly what Todd was trying to cause.

How did these meat ants construct their nests? Where were the queens’ chambers? In the morning, could Todd improve the placement of the lances?

“C’mon, Todd,” Shorty said, handing him a tinny of Coopers. “The barbie’s just about ready.”

Southern Australia was being overrun by ants and she was worried about a barbecue? Where were her priorities?

“I’m not hungry,” Todd said, lying. “You go on without me.”

“You know, the barbie’s in your honor,” Shorty said. “And my advisor’s returned from the back o’ Burke.”

That got Todd excited. He had read Vauna D’harwala’s books on the ecology of the outback. His knowledge was deep, but narrow. Focused on ants. Hers was very broad. She was sure to have insights he’d missed. “Thanks!”

“No worries,” Shorty said.

No worries, Todd thought. No worries. What an odd statement. From what he saw, the country ran well. Petrol was pumped, Maccas were cleaned, stubbies and sangers delivered. Everything worked, but with a more relaxed attitude than America. Even in the midst of an ecological disaster. Ants are taking over? She’ll be right, mate. They’re stealing food, driving people from their homes? No worries, mate, no worries.

Maybe, despite Shorty’s cheerful attitude, she was terrified on the inside. He was.

And so he sat at a picnic table, an uneaten burger in front of him. Grad students tossed a Frisbee in the starlight.

He toyed with his French fries, imaging them as lances piercing the ant hill of the burger.

“Dr. Todd McDaniels, I’d like you meet Dr. Vauna D’harwala.”

Todd looked up, stunned.

He had read all of Vauna’s books, but none of them gave any personal information or showed a picture.

As he stared at her face, he became keenly aware that he—like everyone else at the barbie—was white; in his case, almost literally. Pale, colorless, nearly albino. He drowned himself in sunscreen to keep from burning.

He moved in international circles and was far too socially adept to ever comment about someone’s skin color or accent.

And yet he was trained as a biologist to differentiate organisms by the finest subtleties of color and shape.

And so for perhaps two or three seconds too long, he found himself acting the biologist, staring at Vauna’s skin—her beautiful skin!—which was the darkest black he had ever seen, as if her face had been delicately carved from onyx, and polished to satiny smoothness.

He had never met an Aborigine before.

And after those two or three seconds, he felt the deepest shame and embarrassment.

Awkwardly, he stuck out his hand in greeting.

Perhaps sensing his discomfort, Vauna shook it and said, “What have you got there?”

“A b-burger,” Todd stammered.

“First one you’ve had in Oz, then?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, let me do it up proper for you.” Vauna snatched away the plate.

It was a politic move, and Todd was thankful for the reprieve.

When she returned a few moments later, they could begin again.

“Give this a go,” she said with a smile. His burger was now twice the thickness.

He carefully dissected it. Aside from the regular hamburger stuff, it now included: a second patty, a slice of beet, pineapple, and an entire fried egg.

It was too tall for him to get his mouth around.

“Now that’s a real Aussie burger,” Vauna said with a laugh. “And there…” She pointed at two small, dark medallions. “Is some kangaroo meat for you. I like to call it ‘marsupan.’”

And now Todd laughed, too, the earlier awkwardness almost forgotten.

He held up a finger and said, “Just a sec.” He put his palms together and closed his eyes to silently say grace.

He thanked the Lord for his food. But more for the chance to come to this foreign land and share in God’s love. What better way was there to express God’s love than to help his new friends with their problems?

Like the ants he saw when he opened his eyes, crawling toward his burger.

“Ewwww,” said one of the undergrads, backing away. Todd and Vauna both leaned in closer.

“ Iridomyrmex… ” he said.

“… purpureus ,” she said.

And they laughed together again.

Todd slid his plate to the side, away from the stream of ants that now ran up one leg of the picnic table, across the top, and down the other leg.

“Do you notice something odd about these ants?” Vauna asked.

“Quiz time!” Todd exclaimed. “I love quiz time!”

He studied the stream of ants. Each scout tapped her antennae on the abdomen of the ant in front, sending rhythmic signals and chemical messages. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual happening.

Todd looked up, and Vauna’s smile glowed with a scientist’s greatest joy: the thrill of discovering something that no one else on the planet knew.

“I give up,” Todd said, intrigued. “Tell me!”

“Look at the direction they’re going,” Vauna said. “I was here this morning when you and Shorty were at the Rhodes farm and—-”

“Disgusting!”

A woman appeared and started spraying Windex on the plastic table cover.

“Wait!” Todd shouted. “Don’t do that! We’re doing an experiment—-”

Too late.

Cleaner was sprayed and ants were wiped away. The woman walked off, muttering, “Scientists!”

New ant scouts appeared to replace the disappeared ones. They followed the trail pheromones left by their nestmates until they reached the Great Windex Ocean.

An ant traffic jam formed at the edge of Windex, until some brave ones started palpating, tracking the shoreline. Then they met ants coming the other way.

The ants exchanged non-aggression signals, proving they were from the same nest.

Todd laughed about the ants trading chemicals. What if, when you were at work, you had to spit in your coworkers’ faces every time you passed them in the hall?

And as he laughed, traffic was restored and the ant stream simply flowed around the Windex Ocean.

“I still don’t understand,” Todd said, “what’s so unusual.”

“Here’s a hint,” Vauna said. “In the morning, they were coming from other there.” She pointed a finger at a low wall by the new astronomy building.

“Oh, wow,” Todd said. “That is weird!”

“I don’t get it!” Shorty said. “What’s so weird about that?”

“Well, tell me what time it is,” Todd said.

“Half past ten.”

“And where were they coming from earlier?”

“Oh!’ Shorty said. “I see!”

Ants have a daily cycle. In the morning, they move away from the nest to forage, and then return at night. Now, late this night, they were still moving in the same direction. They were going the wrong way.

“Maybe they’re migrating?” Shorty asked.

Todd and Vauna screwed up their faces.

“This kind isn’t migratory,” they said, almost in unison.

“Most aren’t,” Todd said. “They call it faithfulness to locality. Oh my! Now look at what that scout is doing!”

This kind of ant made a stream that followed the trail scent, Todd explained, but the stream was simply that. A structureless bunch of ants meandering more-or-less in the same direction. Contrast that with the army ants. Their streams of workers were organized, edged with ferocious soldiers, standing shoulder to shoulder, jaws in the air, ready to snap at enemies.