“We have to do something,” Macie exclaimed.
“Something is not the issue,” Chevron said. “The issue is what something can any of us do if all the ants are all of us? We can trust nothing. I think therefore I’m not.” He said, misquoting a famous line by a less famous philosopher.
“It’s ‘I think therefore I am,’” Macie corrected.
“But are you?” Chevron said, questioning the bedrock of all Western Thought. Chevron was on a clear course for self-destruction, he was doing mental workouts with a brain that was not fit.
“We have to find the Ambassador, no matter what,” Macie said. “Whether he’s an actor made of ants or not. It is our duty.”
“Not mine,” Chevron said.
“It is your duty! You’re the taste tester.”
“Well, I don’t like the taste of this,” Chevron said. "Besides, chasing after ants is different than trying a bowl of tasty soup." He plopped down on the ground and did what any confused person would do: he pouted.
“I like his thinking,” I said, falling down beside him. “Let’s just sit here and everything will sort itself out. That’s how the world works. No point in arguing with the universe.” I turned to Chevron, “More ants than molecules, eh? The universe is a crazy place. I hope to move there some day.”
Macie wasn’t having any of it, she reached with both her hands and grabbed each of our ears—I was in her right hand, Chevron in her left— and she tugged us up from the earth. Safe to say that getting your ear tugged is more painful than being lifted up by Titanium Levitation.
“I will not be held back from our mission by buffoons like you.”
And she dragged us into the woods.
“Now I know how the ambassador felt when he was carried away,” Chevron said.
“Quiet, you,” Macie said. “We are being followed.”