Fate

A new idea entered Heryshaf's mind.

He thought back to the old story that he had been told as a young lamb -- that every sheep's fate had been pre-ordained in the Book of Life.

Had God really written a big fat book with everything that was and is and ever will be in it?

If so, nothing that he ever did would make any difference to the pre-ordained outcome of things anyway.

If that were indeed the case, just what would have been the point of doing anything?

This Book of Life idea made him uncomfortable, for it meant that he was going through all of his confusion for no other reason than somebody else had written it so.

He didn't mind suffering -- as long as it was his choice.

Doing so because it was written that way just didn't seem right.

In fact it felt unfair, almost illegal.

It reminded him of feeling imprisoned back at the start of his quest.

'Since I cannot know for certain whether God even exists or has ever written such a book, then his existence or non-existence should not be allowed to affect anything I do,' Heryshaf thought.

'And since there is no proof of this Book of Life, what's the point in worrying about it?'

He walked on.

But the question refused to walk away.

There was something about his reasoning that bothered him.

If he could not know for certain that the Book of Life existed, neither could he know for certain that it didn't.

Heryshaf frowned.

That was irritating.

He had become rather fond of the idea that he was lord of his own destiny.

But how did he know?

He thought back to the start of his quest, retracing his steps.

Some time ago he had examined his own reflection in the river. He had been unsure of himself back then. He had been unsure of who he was.

Since then he had travelled far. He had met creatures and heard what they had to say. He had stood up for what he believed in; he had almost given up and had pulled himself back on track.

He certainly knew more than he had known beside the river.

But knowing more was not the same as being free.

His mind returned to the strange court he had seen and all those forces fighting one another -- Love and Hate, Fear and Faith, Jealousy and Hope -- each pulling events in a different direction.

And then another thought occurred to him.

If he was free to choose, where did a choice come from?

Heryshaf stopped walking.

He had always assumed that when he chose something, he had chosen it.

But what if a choice had begun before he noticed himself making it?

What if something in him wanted first, and only afterwards did Heryshaf explain why?

He didn't know.

Perhaps everything was written.

Perhaps nothing was written.

Perhaps there was something between the two.

For once, Heryshaf found himself strangely pleased not to have an answer.

Suddenly he jumped.

He was horrified to discover thousands of ants crawling all over him.

'Baaaahhhhh!'

Terrified, he screamed and shook himself.

'Concerned with your cleanliness?' questioned one of the ants sarcastically.

'Foolish creatures!' stated another. 'They worry too much about the little things.'

'Baaaahhhhh!' screamed the sheep, shaking and running round in circles.

'Get away from me! Get away!'

The ants surrounded him and laughed.

This was quite a sight.

It took some time for Heryshaf to calm down. All the while the ants laughed.

Eventually he regained his composure. He was surrounded by ants that were still laughing at him.

Embarrassed, he stuttered, 'Ermmm... Heeello.'

'Welcome,' boomed the ants in unison. 'We have been expecting you!'

'Really...?' questioned Heryshaf.

'Really,' answered the ants together. 'What brings you here?'

'I am searching for the meaning of life...'

'The meaning of life!' laughed all of the ants.

'I am searching for the meaning of life. What is it to you?' said Heryshaf angrily.

The ants looked at each other uncomfortably. It seemed to Heryshaf they had been thrown by his anger, as if they didn't know how to deal with it.

At that point one of the ants stepped forward.

'I am Krotex. System Three Five Eight, red back. I speak for all of Ant Kind when I say that we congratulate you on the passion you display for your quest. You see, we ants already have an answer for you and our Queen would be pleased to help you.'

'Really? That's fantastic,' said Heryshaf. 'Where is she?'

'Before we take you to her, it is very important that you understand something,' interrupted the ant.

'What is that?' asked Heryshaf.

'Allow me to lead you,' said the ant.

'Very well,' retorted Heryshaf, feeling apprehensive.

'Answer this!' boomed Krotex. 'What is the distance between anything less than infinity and infinity itself?'

'Ermm, well...'

'The answer is obviously infinity. Correct?'

'I suppose,' said Heryshaf suspiciously.

'Is it not obvious that everything you see, I mean everything -- from the number one to your sister or brother, from chocolate to all your accomplishments -- all of these and everything else is less than infinity?'

'Yes, I suppose it is.'

'Well?'

'Well what?'

'Don't you see? If everything, everything, is less than infinity that means everything, no matter what it is, is exactly the same distance away from infinity.'

'Yes, but what do you conclude from that?'

'Is it not obvious?' continued Krotex. 'It has often amazed us ants that such a simple and beautiful truth goes unnoticed by grander creatures than ourselves.'

'Where are you going with this?' asked Heryshaf.

'If everything is less than infinity, then everything, no matter what it is, is exactly the same distance away from Infinity.'

'You've already said that yet I still don't know what you mean.'

'It means that everything in the universe has something in common.'

Heryshaf waited.

'We are all -- everything is -- an infinite distance away from infinity. To express it another way: we are all, everything is, exactly the same distance away from something mind-bogglingly, indescribably, unknowably, amazingly, immeasurably BIG. God, if you want to call it that.'

'And because we are all always exactly the same distance away from it at all times, it follows that we are all, in some invisible way, connected to it. We are all part of that same thing.'

'Wow,' exclaimed Heryshaf. 'That's so simple. Why doesn't everyone see that?'

'There is the problem,' said Krotex. 'In fact, the Second Biggest Problem in the entire universe.'

'The second biggest?' questioned Heryshaf.

'Yes. The second biggest!'

'Oh?' said Heryshaf, still confused.

'You see,' continued Krotex, 'as I have said, everything in the entire universe is exactly the same distance away from infinity -- an infinite distance at all times. That means that no matter where an individual stands and no matter which direction they look in, they are always standing an infinite distance away from infinity.'

'That makes sense, but I don't see the Problem, let alone the Second Biggest Problem in the universe,' said Heryshaf.

'Slow down a second,' said Krotex, all the while contemplating what a strange expression that was.

'Although sharing something definite in common -- the fact that they are all the same distance away from infinity -- everyone sees themselves at the exact centre of their own universe because, through their eyes, they are always standing at the exact centre of infinity.

'This, of course, is also true.'

Heryshaf frowned.

'And there you have it,' said Krotex. 'The ultimate paradox. Everyone stands at the centre of the universe, yet everyone is part of the same enormous thing.'

'So which is true?' asked Heryshaf.

'Both.'

Heryshaf thought about this.

Krotex continued.

'The problem begins when a creature mistakes being at the centre of his universe for being at the centre of the universe. We call this EGO.'

'Amazing,' exclaimed Heryshaf.

'Yes indeed,' said Krotex. 'We are ants. We therefore work together to achieve. We try to abolish individuality because it is not necessary and tends to divide us from the truth. Everyone is looked after, but everyone must perform their role.'

Heryshaf looked at the thousands of ants moving around him.

'Out of interest... what happens if they don't?'

'Unthinkable! It does not happen.'

'What if it did?' pushed Heryshaf.

'Well...' stammered Krotex.

He seemed genuinely puzzled by the possibility.

'We would kill him!'

Heryshaf stared at him.

'What?'

'Kill him.'

'How do you condone that? What about freedom of thought? Of speech?'

'All a waste of time,' stated Krotex.

'A waste of time? Why?'

'As we are all working towards the same goal, anything that stands in the way of the goal is bad. Individuality does little to benefit the power of the group, so it is deemed a nuisance and disposed of.'

'And,' said Heryshaf, 'I suppose there is a leader to this group? Someone must be in charge?'

'Yes. There has to be,' said Krotex. 'It is She. Our Natural Mother. The Queen.'

'Is she the only leader?'

'Yes.'

'And no other ant can become the leader?'

'No. They are not our mother. We know in our hearts that our mother wants the best for us. The same cannot be said of another.'

'And there are no power struggles?'

'No.'

'Sounds great in theory. Does it work in practice?'

'No. Not in any other group than in ants.'

'Why is that?'

'We know what we are doing,' said Krotex.

Heryshaf wasn't entirely convinced that they did.

'Let me take you to the Queen.'

Krotex led Heryshaf around the anthill to the roots of an old tree. There, hidden beneath the grass, was the entrance to an old burrow.

'You didn't think we dug all of this ourselves, did you?' said Krotex.

Heryshaf peered inside. The hole was just large enough for him to squeeze through.

He followed Krotex down into the cool darkness.

The burrow twisted between the roots of the tree, and everywhere along its walls were tiny openings. Ants streamed in and out of them in endless lines.

The deeper Heryshaf went, the more ants there were.

Soon he could hear them -- a low, continuous hum made by thousands of tiny bodies moving together.

At last the burrow opened into a chamber beneath the roots.

Here Heryshaf could go no farther. He crouched at the entrance while Krotex continued ahead.

The floor seemed to move.

Thousands of ants covered it, flowing around one another in perfect order.

At the centre of them, surrounded by a ring of red backs, sat the Queen.

She was enormous for an ant, though still tiny beside Heryshaf. Her pale body was almost transparent, and she hardly moved.

Yet somehow the whole colony seemed to move around her.

'So,' said the Queen.

Her voice was quiet and deep.

'You are the one who is searching.'

'I am,' said Heryshaf.

'Tell me what you have learned.'

Heryshaf told her about the river and the reflection that had looked back at him. He told her his father's four secrets. He told her about the eagle and the mountain. He told her of his meeting with Reggie the crab, of the water in the strange rock pool, and of the intense vision that had been shown to him.

The Queen listened.

When he had finished, she was silent for a while.

'You have travelled a long way,' she said. 'But there is something you have not yet understood.'

'What?'

'You think meaning is some magical thing you will find.'

'Isn't it?'

'Perhaps. But the thing most likely to stop you finding it is the one doing the searching.'

Heryshaf looked bemused.

'You,' said the Queen.

Heryshaf said nothing.

'As long as everything begins with you -- what you want, what you fear, what you think, what things mean to you -- you stand at the centre of everything you see.'

Heryshaf remembered what Krotex had shown him.

The centre he could never leave.

'You can travel to the end of the world,' said the Queen, 'and still find only yourself waiting there.'

The Queen stared at him through big, almond-shaped black eyes.

Heryshaf's mind became quiet.

He looked at the ants. They moved around the Queen without hesitation. None stopped. None argued. None seemed to wonder whether it wanted to be somewhere else.

Suddenly they reminded him of the flock he had left behind.

Every morning the sheep had risen together. They had eaten together, moved together and slept together. When one began to walk, the others followed.

No one asked where they were going.

No one wondered whether there might be somewhere else to go.

Once, that had felt like home.

Now, watching the ants, Heryshaf saw it differently.

'But they...' he began.

The Queen followed his gaze.

'My ants have no self. They don't search for meaning. They don't wonder who they are. They simply do what they were made to do.'

'Yes.'

'My flock was like that.'

'Perhaps that is why you had to leave them.'

Heryshaf looked at her.

He had always thought he had left because he wanted to find something. He had never considered that leaving itself might have been necessary.

'Then haven't they already found what I'm looking for?' he asked.

'No.'

'They have unity,' said the Queen. 'But they do not know it.'

'I don't understand.'

'My children were born this way. They never became separate from the whole, so they can never choose to return to it.'

Heryshaf watched a line of workers pass beneath him, each carrying a tiny piece of leaf.

He thought again of the sheep moving across the hillside behind one another.

'So they have no choice?'

'No.'

'Then what they have isn't meaning.'

The Queen was quiet.

'No,' she said. 'It is not.'

Heryshaf looked around the chamber again.

For the first time, its perfect order seemed different to him.

Not wrong.

But familiar.

He had come from a place like this.

'Then why would I ever want to become like them?'

'You should not.'

Heryshaf looked at her in surprise.

'You must first become yourself,' said the Queen. 'Only then can you choose to let yourself go.'

'Why?'

'Because you cannot give away something you never had.'

Heryshaf thought about this.

The Queen looked out across her thousands of children.

'There are two kinds of peace,' she said. 'There is the peace of those who never woke up, and there is the peace of those who woke up, knew themselves, and finally learned to set themselves down.'

Heryshaf looked at the ants.

'Which one do they have?'

'The first.'

'And my flock?'

The Queen looked at him for a moment.

'You already know.'

Heryshaf did.

'And which one will I have?'

'That,' said the Queen, 'is why you must keep walking.'

Heryshaf bowed his head.

Then he backed carefully out of the chamber and followed Krotex through the old burrow.

When he finally squeezed out from beneath the tree roots, the evening light seemed strangely bright.

He stood beside the anthill and watched the ants moving in their endless lines.

For a moment he could almost see his old flock instead, spreading across the hillside, each sheep following the one before it.

He felt a sudden ache for them.

There had been warmth in belonging.

Safety too.

He had never needed to ask who he was or where he was going.

But perhaps that was precisely why he had needed to leave.

The ants belonged completely.

So had he, once.

But they had never been lost.

Heryshaf had chosen to become lost.

And now he began to wonder whether getting lost was not a mistake on the way to finding meaning, but the beginning of it.