text: In thirty seven long years of his life, Griffin Mersh never devoted a single thought to ants. But then again, why would anyone want to waste a single microsecond of their lives thinking about ants? Although he had an inconsequential affinity towards other creatures, which he did not acknowledge mindfully throughout his life, a puny ant still hadn’t figured into his mild indifference. In school he was taught about fish, frogs, mice, and even dinosaurs that were wiped out irreversibly millions of years ago, but ants were too insignificant and infinitesimal for anyone to take a meaningful notice. His utter disregard for the hard working critter had not stem from lack of confrontations, for he had seen their colonies emerge sporadically in his front yard. They even crawled all over his face when he took a tumble and passed out in a practice game in his senior year. He brushed them off, strategizing about getting one over the boy who pushed him. He had unwittingly crushed them under his foot as he carried boxes of his packed stuff into the trunk of his car bound for college. Unbeknown to him, their lines marched over the library floor, where he spent most of his college years and had his Shakespearean moment with the love of his life. Then on, his life moved too briskly for the ants to catch up. The day Griffin Mersh married Lily Aikins in a charming little ceremony, he received the letter that sent him over the moon. He was to fly on the next mission to the space station. The newlyweds were overjoyed, pieces of life seemed to be steadily falling in their rightful places. They moved to a suburban community in a great schooling district. The job took most of his time, while Lily sprouted a ton of new hobbies- from gardening to oil painting. She also dabbled in amateurish romantic poetry to the stupendous delight of her husband. Needless to say, his life was just on the brink of being perfect. That threshold was accomplished when he fathered two children- little Philip and Catherine, who soothed his soul with their mere presence. The children inherited the intellect of the father and creative spirit of their mother. They were the source of extreme pride for their father, for in them he found the true purpose of his life.Thus progressed the life of Mr. Griffin Mersh. It went from being louder, more eventful early on to monotonous and unexceptional over time. It did not irk the astronaut as he had always wanted to lead a normal, and ordinary life. ‘Most extraordinary thing in life is to be ordinary,’ he had read the phrase somewhere and it was etched in his heart. Even as the altered nature of his lifestyle allowed him more time and freedom to pursue the things that peaked his interest, ants still did not induce a tangible thought in his mind. There were always bigger issues in life to tackle, more interesting leisures to experience and an endless space to traverse. His flights had become routine and as dull and predictable as daily commute by a train. His work was technical, which most people would describe as boring and unstimulating, but for him, it was one of the greatest joys of his life. He had perfected his daily routine on the station which began every morning with him religiously gawking at the pure blue marvel suspended in the dark void of space from the window of his station. He never got tired of taking in the extraterrestrial view of his home, where he had left a better part of himself. For the rest of the day, he would diligently perform his duties as flight engineer, monitoring the mechanical components of the station and ensuring that repairs were timely and sufficient to sustain their course. On the fateful day just after he woke up, Griffin looked out the window out of habit and found his home in all its grandeur. As he sat there with the view shaking him out of the stupor, something unmissable caught his eye. A gargantuan shadow from the depth of the void crawled towards him. It had appeared suddenly as if it were thrust into existence by some absurd force of nature. Its size too large for him to comprehend had a catastrophic impact on the natural order of earth and moon. Before the eight crew members of his expedition had a moment to think about the phenomenon, it had revealed the true extent of its unbelievable magnitude- a million times the size of the earth. They had just two minutes to don their EVA suits, for it had shattered the communications in its entirety and even as they struggled to put the situation in words, they knew in their hearts what it meant for them and their home. Hopelessness and disbelief was palpable as they abandoned their station wordlessly, in awe of the structure, waiting for the inevitable. He hurtled away unbridled from the exploding station with his crew in utter despair, its wreckage had punctured the outer layer of his suit, which displayed in big red letters before him the time until the oxygen ran out. “Two Minutes!” It beeped. With each revolution around the axis of his own body, Griffin glimpsed the true horror as the shadow maintained its uninterruptible course- its mouth extending towards his home, towards his wife in midst of painting a landscape with red and blue oils, his eldest digging up the grass in their yard and inspecting the worms that wriggled, his daughter watching her mother with one eye and another fixed at the clear, pale blue sky. He longed for nothing more than to be with them at the moment. “One Minute!” The beeping had accelerated its tempo. In the moment of his extreme desperation, he remembered the distress signal that he had activated the moment they deserted the station. A smidgen of hope had begun to germinate in one corner of his heart. ‘Maybe *they* have received my signal. *They* will have to honor the code, and help us all out. *They* cannot just brush us off, and crush us en route. It is unthinkable, and absolutely iniquitous,’ thought he. “Thirty Seconds!” The sound was one continuous and uninterrupted, shrill tone. The other floating astronauts had disappeared from his view. The kindled hope had effectively been doused by the indifferent bearing of the shadow with no sign of humane disposition. He checked his own course in the wobbly display of his helmet- towards the core of the sun. His maneuvering apparatus was one of the first to break down under rain of exploding debris. His thumping heart had inexplicably been subdued. “Ten Seconds!” The display itself was fading away and a confused static was gradually replacing the clear tone. In those ten seconds, after thirty seven years, four months and thirteen days, he at last thought consciously of ants. By the time the clock ceased its countdown, Griffin Mersh, the outstanding astronaut, who lived a good and meaningful life, had himself become an ant.