The Continuous Motivation of Laborers

On The Continuous Motivation of Laborers

There are times when on garden walks, or indulgent struggles with grass, that I ponder the rose. Was it enough to be without equal?  Or, like the beauty queen who is  unapproachable,  but wanting,  does the rose long for a lover to seek it out—with a blade.

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         'Do you see how they work?'

         'Work.  Work.  Work.',  the colorful beetle said to the rather boorish looking human standing beside him.

         'They work all day,  and they work all night;  for us.'

         The human considered the huge insect’s words.

         They were true, of course, but what the human really wanted to understand is:  why?

         The smaller,  dull colored insects that form the majority of the hive performed their small miracles non-stop;  day, and night—over, and over.  They move and rework the earth,  while larger, brightly  colored beetles oversee operations. 

           'But why do they work for you?', the human asks.

           'Hmmm—Why, you say?',  the beetle mutters while taking a lumbering turn to face him.  "Why indeed."

           The beetle studies the human,  while it guides its antennae, one at a time to its impressive pinching mandibles, and cleans away dust and grit produced from the excavation taking place below.

      "Are you considered stupid where you come from?",  he asks the human, who's face flares bright red from the question.

He shifts nervously back and forth on clumsy feet.  He considers stomping the beetle;  squash him like a—.  But the Overseer is more than half his size.  So he controls himself,  "Not at all.  In fact I’m considered—".

The beetle interrupts him, "Never mind all that, Clearly,  you can’t be as stupid as you look."

         The  Overseer sighs;  he no longer cares to speak with the human.  He no longer wishes to teach,  or instruct him.  So he looks away disinterested—and takes to studying the activity below,  in the enormous crater that is being excavated;  tailored to the need of the larger beetles by their smaller, dull, cousins.

           But the human persists.

           "Don’t you know",  he asks,  reaching out and tapping the multicolored carapace of the giant insect.

             The beetle,  with remarkable display of speed,  pivots on its six legs to face the human;  obviously agitated, and deeply offended by contact with a human.

         He lifts the protective carapace at his back and begins  flapping  cellophane-like wings.  The human steps back several paces to a safe distance, but remains unimpressed with the Overseer's display.  In fact, inwardly, he gloats at having returned an insult,  however small.

        The beetle senses his bluff is not having the desired effect on the human, so he quickly folds his wings and lowers his bright chitin carapace over them.

           "Well—?"

           The beetle began grooming one of its six legs, "No, if you—must— know,  we don’t remember why, they work for us.  If you must know."

         "None of us remember  this" , he adds with more than a little indignation. 

         "And—neither do they." 

           The Overseer turns from the human,  sighing.

          "It’s been so long—", he says in a tone that reflects confusion. 

           The human moves to the edge of the enormous crater to stand beside the large beetle.  He looks down at the bustling workers.

         Far below some workers gather outside one of the myriad tunnels entrances. There is commotion not associated with their normal work.  It is difficult to clearly see what was transpiring;  the distance is too great, but it appears to the human that one of the dull, worker insects is communicating with a group of idlers; they gather to surround him.

         A droning hum erupts from the Overseer who begins spinning in agitation, and his brightly colored carapace starts to flutter—the human stands and steps away from him.  In the space between two heartbeats the beetle looses a deafening shriek;  a decidedly insect sound.  The human covers his ears,  recoiling  in agony.  The Overseer then launches himself from the ledge the huge crater, and with a swift and beautiful (yes beautiful),  series of maneuvers,  opens its wings and  in a steep, spiral course,  glides in to the depths of the crater. The human takes a seat once again on the ground at the edge of the crater, observing as the Overseer lands on his lowly  cousin;  the agitator.

         Using its superior strength , and large lobster-claw-like pincers, the Overseer quickly flips the smaller insect to its back exposing the insect's soft underneath.  The human watches as the larger, brilliantly-colored overseer tears the insides of the worker from its shell,  dropping  them on the ground at its side.  He watches as and frenzied buzz quickly gathers around the gutted worker. 

         The distance from the edge of the vast crater to the carnage below is too great for him to clearly hear what seems like insect shouts,  and arguing.  But, he imagines the exchange taking place between the workers,  and the Overseer.  The whole thing is over in moments. The workers, with low-slung heads  and grimy carapaces slowly return to their work, while a few make the effort to carry the dead insect’s empty shell away—others quickly eat what remains.