A line of ants moved swiftly across the plain, each with his eyes fixed on the reassuring mass in front of him. Each soldier knew his place and never desired another further up or lower down in the line. Unknown to them, a child ventured into the garden and spied the line of black ants, moving with a discipline he knew not. Such harmony is wasted on a child and sure enough, he brought together his thumb and middle finger and carefully poised it for attack. One swift flick and a link in the ant chain had disappeared. All was chaos.

The ants scattered, torn by the tragedy. They struggled to understand where their comrade had gone. What divine hand had strayed their way in anger, despite all their offerings? Why was the great one incensed by them?

Indeed, why was the very question the child's older, more sensible sister asked as she stumbled upon the child chuckling benevolently at the ants' confusion. Unable to get an answer out of the child, but for a calm smile in her direction, she picked him up and carried him indoors, leaving the ants to their fervent prayers.