“Why don’t you go home and clean your formic acid sprayer and get ready for your next battle,” jeered Arithant.

  “And take your poo out to the marsh while you’re at it.” Mathant laughed.

  The two math club ants presumed that was all. They were typical male ants who believed a female was only good for soldiering or foraging unless she was a princess seeking a mate. But they had never met a female ant quite like Antuna, and she set out to show them it wasn’t just their courage that she could match.

  Though fuming inside, on the outside, she was cool as a soaked termite, carefully deciding to challenge the pair. “Okay, math whizzes, I’ll go home and tidy my room if either of you can answer the math puzzle that I solved this morning.” I know they’ll never get it.

  “No way!” complained Arithant. “How do we know someone else didn’t give you the answer?”

  “Okay, you pose me a problem too, and if I can’t solve it, I’ll tidy your rooms as well,” Antuna dared. “But if I can solve it, you let me into the club and come and take my poo out.” No way I can lose to these bozos.

  “Okay, you’re on,” agreed Mathant.

  “Better get your chalk sharpened and your poo pail ready, girl,” said Arithant, tossing a piece of chalk in the air and catching it with his pincers.

  Excited by the challenge, Antuna stepped forward and chimed in, “Okay, I’ll go first. Answer this: ‘A girl ant leaves to visit her queen and her sister on Queen’s hexay, and she wants to give them each a cherry. But on the way, she encounters seven webs with the same spider obstructing her passage and demanding half of her cherries to spare her life. Since it was Queen’s hexay, the spider felt bad and returned one cherry every time he took some cherries from her. How many cherries did she need to start with to have two cherries at the end?’ I’ll give you ten hexutes to answer.” I’m sure they’ll hate that it’s about a girl, a queen, and a sister.

  The two math whizzes thought about it but could not solve the riddle.

  After eight hexutes, Arithant beamed, “I got it. It’s one hundred and twenty-eight. But, no, wait, it’s a trick question. Is the sister supposed to be the sister of the queen or the girl?”

  “You got the right idea, Ari,” gloated Mathant. “The queen is both the girl’s queen and her sister. So, the answer is sixty-four.”

  “No, you’re both wrong,” lectured Antuna. “The answer is two.” Was I right or what?

  “Two, no way,” they yelled together, pounding their forelimbs on the table.

  Then Antuna pulled out her chalk, scribbled two simple equations on a slate: ½ (2) and 2-1+1=2, and explained that each time the spider took one of the two cherries, he gave one back. “It’s as simple as 1+1, professors.” Now let me hear your question.

  “Ah yes, I see it now,” mused Mathant, falling back into his chair.

  “Okay, clever girl,” sneered Arithant. “But now you must answer our question.”

  Mathant read the question agreed upon by the two club ants. “Okay, here’s a problem that no one in our club has solved. If you can crack it, you’re in the club: ‘An ant family of four, a queen and a drone, and their boy and girl, had a breakfast of seeds. They ate exactly three seeds, and each ant had a seed. How did they do it?’ You have ten hexutes.”

  Antuna thought a few hexonds and crowed. “That’s easy. The drone, the girl, and the boy each ate a seed. Then the queen ate the drone.” I know drones would never think of that.

  After the two math club ants thought about the answer for a few hexonds, they grimaced and then grinned.

  “Aaah, that’s so gross, but you’re right,” admitted Mathant.

  “That’s outstanding,” praised Arithant. “I guess you’re in the club,”

  Antuna strolled out of the hall with a prideful smile. “Oh, I live in den 204A, don’t forget your poo pails.” And I hope you can survive having a girl in your club.

  While ants reveled in learning, the other insects in the colony also valued intelligence and worked hard to keep up with the ants. For example, before Beeometry became a mathematician, she was the Mistress of the ‘B50-Too’ club, whose members had IQs of fifty or above, more brilliant than most ants.

  Her slogan to young bees was: “Learn your one plus ones and two times twos, and some-hexay you can join the B50-Too’s.”

  At Antuna’s urging, Beegan and Beebie signed up for the club. However, both were anxious when told they had to have an IQ test before joining.

  On the hexay of the quiz, Beebie got upset and refused to go, fretting, “Beegan, I can’t do it. You’re so smart. I’m sure you’ll get in. But I’m too dumb to pass that stupid test.” I know it’s hopeless.

  “Beebie, you’re as clever as me,” reassured Beegan. “You only get flustered sometimes. Come with me and remember the time you helped save Antuna and Dinomite. No dumb bee could have done the things you did.”

  Beegan knew Beebie was more intelligent than she thought she was. Although she was sometimes impulsive and lacked Beegan’s rational, methodical demeanor, she was incredibly observant and forgot nothing she experienced. Although often nervous, her stellar memory equaled her unrestrained enthusiasm.

  “I guess you’re right, Beegan. And I’m the best waggle dancer on our team.” Beebie jumped up and started wiggling. I’ll try my best.

  “Yes, you are.” Beegan pointed at the exit. “Now you go, girl.”

  Beebie was confident in her answers when they took the exam, but became frazzled when waiting for the result. “Beegan, I’m sure you passed. And I did okay, but not good enough,” she groaned. I won’t make the grade.

  The tester tallied up the scores and returned to where the sisters were waiting to ask, “Do you want to get your results separately, or will you hear them together?”

  “Oh, we’re twins, and we do everything together,” answered Beegan automatically, before she considered what the question might mean.

  The examiner flapped her wings once and announced, “Beegan, your IQ meets the qualifications. You’re in the club. But Beebie, I am sorry, you didn’t make the cut-off.”

  Dejected, Beebie lowered her head and spewed a sour scent. Then, before she flew out, she suddenly turned and grabbed the tablet out of the tester’s claws. Let me see that!

  She scanned it and blurted out, “Forty-nine, just my luck!” But then, as she scrutinized the text, she noticed something. “Wait, look at question five. I’m sure my answer is right, but it’s marked wrong.” I know I’m right!

  The official asked to see it again, then looked over at Beebie and said, “You’re right. I can’t believe I made a mistake. Please accept my apology, and welcome to the club.”

  “Woo-hoo!” shouted the twin bees as they began a mock waggle dance together.

  Flies had a similar club, called the Fly-High Society, although they did not condone IQs since they believed the tests were culturally biased towards ants and bees. Yet, this was an elite club, which only accepted the brightest flies, not meaning fireflies. Flyhi was the Topper of the Fly-High Society, and when not acting as a messenger, he worked hard to build the club. Many believed Flyhi had an IQ over fifty-five, although he refused to take the inaccurate, ant-devised test.

  Calling himself a flyosopher, Flyhi lounged on what resembled a beanbag chair and sucked on a honey stick. “It’s not about your IQ or minding your p’s and q’s. Flying high is about understanding life and its oh so subtle cues.” He immersed himself in an airy aroma.

  Roaches and beetles were a close-knit group and played and studied together. One of their favorite activities was maze building and running. First, they split themselves into their separate insect family groups, with each species creating an elaborate maze. They then challenged the other group to see who ran faster through the other’s maze. Sometimes they even challenged ants, who were happy to play along until it became clear after hexs of training that the roaches and beetles always beat the pants off the ants.

  Roachester was a star maze runner in his younger hexays and an even better maze builder as he aged. He strongly supported the event’s continuation long after retiring from the sport. Beetlebob had also stopped running mazes but, in the last several hexs, had become one of the best maze designers of all time. Every hex, the roach team with the top maze-winning record, took on the top beetle team for the interspecies maze championship. Roachester came out of retirement one hex to help the team challenging the top beetle team. Beetlebob, who had coached the winning team for the last few hexs, led the beetle team.

  Roachester taunted the beetle team when interviewed for the upcoming contest. “Beetlebob and his band of four young beetles have produced many records. But facing us, they’ll be coming to a sting fight with venomless hordes.”

  Beetlebob stood before one of his team’s constructions, diffusing a brilliant bouquet. “My team may be young, but we’re not fazed. Check out our structures—you’ll be a-mazed.”

  It was a near-even challenge, with the two teams forcing the seventh trial in a best-of-seven event. They even had to build an extra eighth maze each, as the two teams finished tied to the hex-hexond in the seventh run. Yet, Beetlebob’s group prevailed in the last race, and throngs of screaming fanatical young female fans swarmed the beetles.

  Most Poo-ponic worms were very shy and interacted little with the other insects, although they were loyal to other worms and insect friends. If you got into trouble, you could always count on a worm friend to dig you out. For hexs, after the roaches and beetles started their annual maze trials, worms came out to cheer them on. Indeed, there was no roach or beetle maze-building event that the worms were not all over or under. Wormwurst was an enormous fan, both in stature and enthusiasm, and she always made an impression with her presence. There was often a period after these events when the worms disappeared. Most insect families thought they cheered so much at the maze events that it took a toll on them, and the worms needed time to rest afterward. One time, though, a small group of wood-boring beetles, including Beetlebob, followed some worms as they slipped underground after a maze trial.

  When he surfaced, Beetlebob exclaimed, “So complex you couldn’t believe they were made by a worm, but there are oodles of mazes underground where they squirm.”

  The worms were playing elaborate maze games underground, with none of the other insects knowing about it. Wormwurst did not race, but she was an assistant coach and helped build the underground mazes. From that point forward, maze competitions became three team events, with beetles, roaches, and worms running each other’s mazes. But, of course, the beetles and roaches gave the worms a speed handicap as they moved much slower without legs.

  Despite losing the earlier banishment battle, the spiders on Poo-ponic were arrogant and supposed their intellect exceeded that of other creatures. The spiders ignored any signs of increased insect intelligence, assuming the bugs could never surpass their arachnid superiors.

  Spifry’s mom, Spima, and other spiders would say: “We got more legs, we got more brains, and we got the web.”

  Spiders attacked insects on their own rather than in groups. Learning from their earlier battles with ants, they waited until the last ant in a line crossed their path before spitting at the straggler. The ants in front did not notice until their next stop that a spider had taken the trailing ant. Spima was a good spitter and caught most of her prey when she was off the web. She was proud that, although small, Spifry was also an excellent spitter. She claimed he got it from her, as Spifry’s dad was more of a web sitter. Spiders often caught flying insects in webs, while ants were most often ground spitting targets. Whatever way they did it, spiders were accumulating a disturbing number of kills, enough that ants worried whenever leaving the colony.

  Termites detested any mental activity aside from their instincts and laughed at the nerdy ants and other bugs they watched from the jungles outside the colony. However, termites, including Dinomite, never forgave the ants for the battle that banished them from the colony and often ambushed small groups of ants out foraging for food. Although not as clever as ants, they surprised them with more significant numbers and won most small clashes.

  Mostmite, promoted to General after Bitemite’s demise, explained his strategy, “We do not want an all-out war with ants. So, we’ll take out a few at a time till we hear their plaintive rants.”

  Mostmite invited Dinomite, who worked very hard, to a meeting in his office. “Private Dinomite, I am told by your superiors that you are an excellent soldier.”

  Dinomite stood at attention and provided a prompt reply. “Yes, sir, I try my best.” And if it means killing ants, no one can beat me.

  “I hear your best is far better than anyone else’s. You have twice the number of ant-kills as the others in your unit,” praised Mostmite.

  Dinomite assumed an at-ease stance. “I work hard.” His following words slipped out instinctively, “And I hate ants.” My mental training has worked.

  Mostmite let his gaze travel with a brief look of suspicion. “But don’t you have an ant friend?”

  His memory dared to betray him and drifted back to the better times when he did not believe his last words, but he whiffed it off. Springing back to attention, Dinomite retorted, “She’s not my friend anymore. I recently learned what I always suspected. She lied to me to trick me off the coup mission.” Antuna is dead to me!

  “Ah yes, you can never trust an ant,” replied Mostmite, with an affirmed sense of pride.

  The tension in Dinomite’s back lessened. “That’s why I am so motivated to kill them now. You know what they say, ‘she may fool me once as I take the ant’s bait, but if she tries to fool me twice, she’ll be on my plate.’”

  “You’ve learned well, Private.” Mostmite approached Dinomite to add a stripe on his shoulder. “You’ll be happy to know that I am promoting you to corporal.”

  “I appreciate that, sir.” Dinomite stood erect. “Does this change my assignments?” Tell me I get to kill more ants.

  “Yes, I want you leading an ambush team.”

  Dinomite saluted his General. “Thank you, sir. I’ll make you proud.” A radiant reek oozed from his scent glands. Ambushes are my favorite.

  Dinomite continued to be a ruthless ant-killer, and every termite wanted to be on his team. Inspired by his new, mind-warped impression of Antuna, he mastered the art of deceit. He often feigned injury or weakness before turning on any gullible ant that thought he was no threat. Hexths after hexths, small groups of ants left the colony and did not return—victims of Mostmite’s band of termite outlaws, often with Dinomite as the leader. The termites attacked any colony insect they could, but found ants the easiest targets. Dinomite always insisted his team target ants. Although it was a continual irritant, ants knew some casualties could occur when foraging and, for a time, tolerated the losses as part of nature.

  As the population grew, satellite settlements popped up further and further from the central marsh. The original colony expanded with many burrows constructed, and it became Poo-ponic’s capital. Beefirst was still the queen bee, and an aging Genant neared retirement. As colony insects traveled between the capital and the outer settlements or foraged for food, more and more clashes occurred between the colony insects and the termites and spiders in outlying regions. Ants were getting caught and killed at an alarming rate. As a result, both spiders and termites became the objects of ever-advancing strategic plans in insect warfare as the other insects tried to avoid these two predators. From an early age, Beefirst and Genant taught the younger generations of colony insects the triple-A defense against their enemies—be Alert, try to Avoid, and Alight when encountered. As they got brighter, the colony insects no longer tolerated the intimidation by spiders and termites. Ants had loftier goals—to rise and protect the planet’s colonies by annihilating their spider and termite enemies. They knew this goal would take brains, and they strove to strengthen their intellectual acumen. Their feeling was: we can defeat these morons if we only add more neurons, and there’ll be no relapses if we increase our synapses.

  Antuna had not seen Spifry for quite some time, and she worried about him because of a growing anti-spider sentiment in the colony. So, she met him at their hollowed-out meeting log.

  Antuna crept into the dug-out log and spotted him. “Spifry, I am so glad you could make it. Did you have any trouble getting here?” I hope you were careful.

  Spifry slipped out of the shadows and approached Antuna. “Well, we’re in the no-spider zone here. But I’ve learned to move stealthily.”

  Antuna wrapped both of her antennae around Spifry’s waist, then judged his size in a quick up and down. “Yes, I see you are skinny. What are you eating these hexays?” I’m worried you’re not getting enough.

  Spifry spun around to show off his lean physique. “I’m on a vefab diet.”

  “Vefab, I’ve never heard of that.” I can’t believe you’re on a diet.

  “I was on a vegan diet. It stands for veggies, grains, and nuts. But I couldn’t handle all the grains and nuts.”

  “So, what’s vefab?” I hope it includes meat.

  “I made it up myself. The V-e still stands for veggies since I eat seeds, pollen, and fungi. And fab stands for flies and beetles. I eat them when they get caught on my web. I need some meat.” Spifry laughed. “I let ants, bees, and termites go out of respect for you, the bee twins, and Dino.”

  Antuna worried about Spifry’s slimness and pressed him. “But I thought the spider army fed you.” And I don’t think they’re doing very well.

  “I quit the army long ago. It’s a volunteer army, so I could leave when I wanted.”

  “But why would you leave?” Antuna asked. Why didn’t you tell me? “Didn’t they treat you well?”

  “Yeah, my mates were great.” Spifry then cringed a little. “But I didn’t like the exercises.”