Sunlight warmed my face. I heard Maya bustling about in the kitchen. My eyes snapped open—I can’t be late for my shift! But—ah—it was Picnic Day. I stretched out my arms and legs in a big star shape and sighed. Then I rolled onto my side and turned on the feeds.
“Good Morning, Citizens!” the announcer said. The camera flew over the gleaming People’s Arena, then panned out, showing thousands of red and green flags fluttering in the breeze, lining Freedom Avenue and bordering Equality Park.
“Looks like we’re going to have a lovely day for it, doesn’t it, Rosie?”
“Absolutely, Han! It’s a fresh morning here at Equality Park, but by lunchtime we can expect temperatures of up to twenty-five degrees and a gentle breeze. Don’t forget your sunscreen!”
I connected to the Picnic Day interface to check how our Levellers were doing. Our representatives had been assigned to us one week after the last Picnic Day. I was 8,200,149, Maya was 781,532, and Lili was 20,462,316. I watched the nest for a while, zooming in to look at our Levellers. They were hurrying about as usual, waving their delicate antennae, snapping their mandibles. They gleamed, blue-black, each one shiny and perfect. Such beautiful creatures. A pair of them paused on their rounds and touched antennae in a friendly greeting. Then they saw some fellow citizens of the nest, struggling with a large piece of fruit, and rushed over to help. The Levellers were polite and helpful, working together for the good of society. I was so lucky to work with them. They taught me important life lessons every day. I will be helpful and cooperative today, I vowed to myself. And give each person a friendly greeting.
The smell of coffee floated up to me.
“Honey?” called Maya.
“Coming!” I said.
I heaved myself up and pulled on my bathrobe. I opened Lili’s door as gently and quietly as I could. She lay on her back, her teddy under one arm, snoring softly. A little bubble of spit popped at the corner of her mouth. Well, it would be a long day for her. She deserved a lie-in too.
I hurried downstairs. “Happy Picnic Day, darling!” I said. I wrapped my arms around Maya and nuzzled her neck as she poured out the coffee. “Thanks for doing this for us. What’s in the bag?”
“Former Billionaire biscuits!” she laughed, holding up a little iced figure. It was pale in colour, with blue dots for eyes and yellow hair. It did look a bit like Mike Smith, former billionaire.
“Lili’s going to love these,” I said. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”
“I’m so proud of you,” she said. “I want you to know that.”
“Thanks, honey. Sorry we didn’t get seats in the People’s Arena this year.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll still be in Equality Park. I like it there. The whole family can be together.”
That was just like Maya. Always finding the positive.
I pulled one of the former billionaire biscuits out of its Tupperware, dunked it into my coffee, and bit its head off.
“Delicious,” I said.
Lili came running into the kitchen, so I crammed the rest of the biscuit in my mouth to keep the surprise.
“Do you want eggs for breakfast?” I asked. “OK, you help me while Mama gets ready. Careful with the juice. You can watch the feeds if you like.”
We didn’t normally have time for breakfast together or watch the feeds in the morning, but it was Picnic Day after all.
They were showing highlights from the truth and reparations committee for the special victims of Mike Smith, former billionaire.
“I worked in one of Mike Smith’s factories for six years,” a middle-aged man said. “Temperatures would reach forty degrees in the summer. Instead of installing an air conditioning system, Mike Smith, former billionaire, stationed ambulances outside to carry off workers when we got heatstroke. We did not have health insurance, so when I was hospitalised, I had to pay for the treatment myself, and the hours I spent in the hospital were docked from my pay. We were not allowed to unionise…”
“Do you remember what you said when you testified, Lili?” I asked.
Lili nodded. She stood up and proudly puffed out her little belly. “I am the future of the nation,” she recited. The short speech was well-rehearsed. “Mike Smith, former billionaire, hurt me too. Because he hurt our natural world there are no more wild rhinos, gorillas, or giraffes.” ‘Giraffes’ sounded like ‘drafts,’ but she said the rest confidently, raising her chubby fist in the air. I hugged her tightly. I was so proud of her.
“That’s the message your Leveller will give to Mike Smith today,” I said. “Each of us has our own representative, because he’s harmed each and every one of us.
“Even the babies!” Lili said.
After breakfast, Maya helped me with my uniform and straightened my tie. I took my crisply pressed jacket out of its plastic bag at the last minute, careful to avoid sticky little fingers.
“That’s you, Daddy!” Lili said.
I glanced up at the feeds. They were showing the factory. Under our protective clothing, all of us workers looked alike, shrouded in white, with gloved hands and faces masked behind our lenses. One of those people could be me, it was true. I hadn’t thought about how strange we looked, almost like giant Levellers, as we hunched over our work benches.
“The nest underneath the People’s Arena is the beating heart of the Republic,” the presenter said.
A close-up of a Leveller appeared on screen. It was resting in its cradle, its antennae waving as it chewed on a leaf while the worker quickly and carefully injected the microchip into the ant’s mesosoma. The chips were as tiny as specks of dust, but each one contained the testimony of a randomly numbered citizen. The Leveller was clearly relaxed and unbothered by the process. Every Leveller is a precious creature, just as we humans are all precious creatures. We all deserve to find happiness.
Dr. Harmigan held up a petri dish. “Leveller ants have been genetically bred from various species of army ants. At three millimetres in length, they’re slightly bigger than most army ants, and they have a longer life span. They have to, so we can breed and chip enough of them to do their work. Army ants are omnivorous, but unlike most species, our Levellers actually prefer the meat of larger mammals.”
*
During the parade, I tried to conduct myself like a Leveller. Smiling, waving, cheerfully greeting the waving crowds, working together as one body, to achieve our great purpose. Camera drones circled above. Children on their parents’ shoulders held Leveller balloons. The air smelled of caramel.
After the parade, I slapped my colleagues on the back and made my way to find Maya, Lili, my mother, and my brother’s family, under the trees in Equality Park. Strangers came up to me and shook my hand.
Finally, I flopped down onto our picnic blanket.
“Daddy!” squealed Lili. “Look, there are ants here too!”
They were scurrying around our picnic blanket. Precious creatures. It was a good omen.
I laughed. “Ants are the busiest workers…” I started, and my brother finished the slogan, “but they still make time for picnics!”
A countdown clock appeared on the screens. We quieted down. The whole park was crammed with people. We craned our heads towards the screens. Maya squeezed my hand and I squeezed back. I was nervous.
The national anthem blasted and we scrambled to our feet. The screens showed Mike Smith, former billionaire, being led from his cell to the place of anointing. He stumbled as he walked, but he looked calm and alert. His hands were tied in front of him.
On the first Picnic Day, the former billionaire had screamed, fought, and tried to escape. He hadn’t seemed remorseful at all, not ready to pay the price for his crimes. It had been strangely unsatisfying, watching him thrash and scream obscenities as the Levellers went to work on him. On the second Picnic Day, the former billionaire had obviously been drugged and was so sleepy that it was also unsatisfying. Things were better now, more professional. The re-educators had more advanced methods to teach the former billionaires the errors of their ways.
Mike Smith, former billionaire, stood under the shower head. He flinched when the pheromone syrup sprayed down on him. He scrunched up his eyes and turned his head from side to side, trying to shake the juices out of his eyes and ears.
The image cut to the inside of the nest, where the Levellers were getting agitated. They could smell the pheromones, and they started to swarm, ready to rush through the tubes and into the People’s Arena. We were clapping and cheering now.
The guards led billionaire Mike Smith, former billionaire, into the arena. He stood behind the microphone to read his final confession. Of course, it was a short version. There were more than twenty and a half million of us precious creatures, after all. That was a lot of crimes.
“I deeply apologise for what I have done,” he said. He was trembling, making lip-smacking noises as he tried to speak with the sticky juices in his mouth. “For many years, I exploited the labour of others. I lived in luxury while ninety percent of people lived in poverty. I bribed politicians and civil servants. I paid almost none of my vast wealth in taxes for the public good. I deliberately undermined public education, healthcare, and democracy. I poisoned the media with lies and cheapened public discourse with tawdry…” he stopped and bent forwards, coughing and spluttering. One of the guards prodded him with a baton and tapped at the script on the stand next to him. “Self… self…” the guard prodded him again, “…aggrandisement.”
It was exactly the same confession as last year. I suppose that’s because former billionaires are all the same. Lili was getting restless. I handed her another biscuit to keep her quiet.
Former billionaire Mike Smith closed his eyes and drew some deep breaths. He drew himself up tall and looked directly into the camera. “You ungrateful bastards!” He said in a loud, clear voice. He kicked the stand to the ground. “You’re so backwards! Without me, you’d still be living in the twentieth century! What about all my scholarships? What about the CO2-eating fungi? The Osmosis power stations?”
The feed cut out.
“What’s happening?” Lili asked.
Maya and I exchanged looks. I shrugged. Perhaps this one had been resistant to the re-education.
After a few seconds, Mike Smith appeared on the screen again. He swayed from side to side, and his head lolled at a strange angle.
“It was all fake,” he mumbled. “I admit it was all fake. I gave with one hand, and I took…” The guard whispered in his ear, “I took with both hands.”
Mike Smith breathed deeply again. He trembled and bent double. His shoulders shook. The camera zoomed out.
“He’s crying because he knows he’s bad!” said Lili.
“That’s right,” I said. But it was worse than that. He was laughing. How could he laugh when he had committed such terrible crimes?
I thought the feed would cut again, but he stood up and staggered back to the microphone.
“You want to hear all the bad things I’ve ever done, huh?” he said. “Well, I think you know them all by now. Why don’t I tell you some other ones? Some secrets.”
The guards exchanged looks and took a step towards him.
“In my first year at school, I put a spider down my teacher’s dress. I let my sister’s rabbit out of the hutch just to see what happened. We never saw it again. One time… one time, I told my friend Paul that it was cool to shave your head except for a long fringe at the front. He believed me.” Mike Smith looked up, as though he could see Paul and his stupid haircut, floating above him. “He walked around for a whole day like that!” He started laughing again. “I’m sorry Paul! I was such a bully.”
Maya was shaking her head. “His crimes started in childhood,” she said.
The phrase “Boys will be boys” drifted into my mind. They had said things like that when I was a child. I had also wasted my youth in pointless pranks and hurting the feelings of my supposed friends. I had been a bad person too. Maybe the only difference between me and former billionaire Mike Smith was money? But then I reminded myself that Mike Smith had chosen competition over co-operation. I gave Lili’s hand a squeeze. Her childhood would be so much better than mine. It was a better world. We were doing the right thing.
The feed cut to the President’s face.
“Alone we are helpless creatures, fragile as ants, crushed by the boots of corporations; but together, we can level a former billionaire in minutes,” he said.
Maya nudged me. “It took the Levellers nearly an hour to work through the last former billionaire,” she whispered.
“Yes, but he was quite fat,” I said. “This one’s much smaller.”
Everybody was scrambling to their feet now, getting ready for the big moment. I felt a tingle of excitement.
In a moment, our Levellers would act as one. It didn’t matter if Mike Smith, former billionaire, had harmed us personally or just by proxy. Suffering is not a competition. Pain knows no hierarchy. Each Leveller would work equally. Thanks to the Levellers, we could all share in the process of restorative justice.
The guards led Mike Smith, former billionaire, into the centre of the arena, and tied him down to the ground, spread-eagled between four posts. The screaming of hundreds of thousands of people was almost too much to bear. We were moving as one now, “Long live the Republic!” we yelled. I lifted Lili onto my shoulders for a better look.
“What should we do with this man?” The president asked.
“Level him! Level him! Level him!” We chanted.
Mike Smith, former billionaire, writhed on the ground.
The president pressed the button. The gates opened. We screamed. The Levellers poured out, a blue-black shiny horde, flooding the arena floor, so beautiful! My lovely Levellers, my babies! Tears welled up in my eyes. The Levellers smothered the former billionaire’s soft, pink body in less than a second. The heap jerked and writhed as the Levellers moved as one glittering, pulsing creature.
Once they’d had their fill, the Levellers moved away, and new ones came to take their place. Even at a moment like this, at the height of their feeding frenzy, our Levellers were so organised and co-operative. Not one of them hurt another or took more than their fair share. I let my tears flow without trying to hide them. How wonderful the Republic will be when we are all as harmonious and fair as the Levellers!
The mass grew and shrank, grew and shrank, flickering almost faster than I could see. I screamed and cried until my lungs hurt.
The commentators droned on. The infrared cameras showed what was happening inside the heap as it got smaller. The screen displayed statistics: the ID numbers of the first Levellers who had reached him, along with the body parts they had consumed. We sat back on the grass again, and my mother passed around a flask of hot tea. A murmur rose up through the crowd again. I flipped open my screen and checked the Picnic Day interface, showing our Levellers to Lili. Our representatives had rushed through the gates and eaten parts of the thigh, the arm, the foot, and the belly before they returned to the nest. The heap of writhing ants got smaller and smaller. Finally, they slowed to a trickle, hoovering up the last globs of Mike Smith.
Later that evening, after the fanfare, the singing, and the fireworks, I carried Lili up the stairs to bed, pulled off her shoes, and tucked her in.
“That was the best day, Daddy,” she mumbled to me as I kissed her silky head.
“The best so far,” I whispered. “There are twenty-four billionaires left to go.”
Kate M Tyte was born in Bath, England. She worked as an archivist for over ten years, before moving to Lisbon where she works as an English teacher. Her essays and reviews have appeared in Slightly Foxed, STORGY and The Short Story. Her fiction and poetry in STORGY, Riggwelter, Idle Ink, The Fiction Pool, Press Pause Press, Reflex Press, MONO and the anthologies Ghastly Gastronomy; Strange Spring: Stories We Wrote in Self-Isolation; Living, Loving, Longing: Lisbon; and on the podcasts The Other Stories and Creepy Pod.
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