Memoirs of Ali
Chapter 5
* * * * * * *
"My, my, my. What a sad thing this is."
The voice that stirred me out of unconsciousness sounded like a trickling stream of venom. I forced myself into alertness and found myself staring into a cluster of dark eyes bordered by brown fuzz. Eight hairy legs stood equally apart, shifting and dancing oddly before my eyes. A spider, I thought numbly.
"Look who's awake."
I groaned and the spider poked me playfully. It was a gentle touch, however, and when he spoke he sounded very sympathetic.
"Yes, I know. Losses like these always hurt. But I'm here to help you."
He stepped forward and began to push me forward, so that I was forced to walk across the windowsill, then climb down into the grass again, where I lay very still, still mute, unfeeling. The Spider descended lightly, floating down on a long, strong, silvery thread.
"I saw what happened," he said quietly. "A terrible thing indeed. I am taking you to my house, until you are recovered. I hope you will find it agreeable there. Now walk."
I walked. I don't remember how long it took to get to the spider's house, or how I ever got there, but after a while I realized that I was surrounded by a mass of silvery webs woven between the twigs of a cluster of sickly-looking bushes. I looked up and saw that there were a number of other insects there, too -- bees and grasshoppers mostly. All of them were looking at me. As I stared back into dead black eyes, I remembered the deep, water-blue gaze of the human girl. It hit me for the first time how far apart our races really were.
"This is our new friend," said the Spider to the congregation. "He was meddling with humans, but he has learned how dangerous and evil they are. He will be a valuable partner to us. Come, Ali -- you need to rest. I will take you down into the hall. No one else is allowed inside while he is there."
The Spider began to nudge me onward again, down into the depths of the tangled bushes. I remember walking into the dark entrance of some sort of hollow, and then the darkness swelled and filled my vision completely.
* * * * * * *
The next few days I have very little memory of. I remained in the hollow in the bushes, and the Spider faithfully brought me insects and meat to eat, as well as soothing and encouraging words. Adjusting to the routine, I learned to expect these words; I let them become my source of strength in the midst of my pain and grief, which still ran deep.
They certainly were the most eloquent words I had ever heard. The Spider had amazing control over his voice; he could make it become still and soft and calming when I was upset, but when I was feeling a little better he began infusing his speeches with a quiet passion, nudging me in the direction of anger and action. The humans, he said, were terrible creatures, and the young girl was a foul monster to kill such a precious creature as Kamala. I deserved vengeance. It was my right as a living creature. I could feel the Spider's fervor and kindness pulling me slowly out of my state of stupor and into a new frame of mind. Finally, when my spirit was significantly restored, he brought me out into the open again.
I saw the multitude of insects gathered around again, and felt their gazes rest on me once more, but I met them eye for eye. I was strong again.
"My friends!" cried the spider. "We have gathered this day to welcome a new comrade into our midst."
A low murmur of welcome spread through the assembly of insects. The spider turned to me.
"Mantis," he said, "these fellow creatures have joined me for a cause. A noble cause. I think you will agree with me on this. We are fighting for the rights of insects everywhere to live and think for ourselves. We are oppressed, but we will soon be free. For you see, mantis, we are going to invade the great house that stands over us and casts a shadow over all of our lives. We are going to sting the throats and suck the blood of the humans that live within. We are going to bring down that house."
I stared at him, but had I really expected anything different? All the passion, the charisma, the talk of action and vengeance . . . it all made sense now. And as I stood there, I found that I did support him.
"Um . . . sir?" I said.
"Please do not talk in that fashion, mantis. I do not believe in formal addresses, nor in names." He gave me a significant look. "They are labels, and we are free creatures. We do not want to be labled."
"Um . . . right," I said, a bit put off. "Well, I was just wondering if . . . if maybe I could help you."
"Help me with what?" said the Spider in a sweet voice.
"Help you with the revolution, of course."
"Oh, yes." The Spider was clearly pleased. "Yes. Yes, of course you may help. In fact, if you are agreeable, I have arranged for you to be made a lieutenant."
"Me? A lieutenant?" I said incredulously. "But you just met me."
"And yet I have discerned that you are very good lieutenant material," said the Spider, still in that sweet voice. "You are young, you are passionate and strong, and you are a reasonably good hunter and speaker. I can use you well, mantis. Will you take me up on this offer?"
I looked around. All of those dead. beady eyes were still resting on me, emotionless, collective. The insects seemed like a single being, and that being was holding its breath, waiting for my answer.
"Yes," I said softly. "Yes, I accept. I'll be a lieutenant."
The Spider actually laughed -- a soft, intelligent laugh unlike any I had ever heard before. "Of course you will. Now come and meet the other officers, and we shall prepare for your first mission."
* * * * * * *
The "other officers," it transpired, were an old, grizzled grasshopper, a very tough-looking female bee, a large moth with buggy eyes, and . . . Violet.
"You recognize your sister, of course," said the Spider as six of us stood in the shadows of the bush-hollow. "She has been valuable to us. Haven't you?"
Violet didn't answer. She was staring at me as if she couldn't believe her eyes.
"So this is the brother you were telling us about?" said the grasshopper disdainfully. "The one who licks humans' toes?"
"The one who used to lick humans' toes," the bee corrected him. "He's on our side now."
"He'd better be," muttered the grasshopper.
"We are here," said the Spider (his voice was still soft and conversational, but for some reason it made everyone else fall silent at once), "to discuss our next mission. Our new officer's first, of course. Our goal is to begin recruiting the ant colony."
"That's impossible," said the grasshopper. "The blacklegs are too washed-out and stupid to understand anything more important than bread crumbs. We shouldn't waste our time."
"Grasshopper, please do not use derogatory language in the meetings," said the Spider, while the bee buzzed in irritation. "I assure you that the ants are intelligent. They are, however, close-minded, and may require some . . . moderate persuasion to get them to join our side."
"You mean we attack them?" said the moth, his beady eyes popping with pleasure.
"No," said the Spider. "We will simply tell them what will become of them if they do not join us and help us. The ants love their children. If they do not join us, their children will be wiped out by the humans. We need the ants. And the ants need us."
There was a silence as everyone took this in. Then Violet gave a delighted laugh.
"Yes?" said the Spider pleasantly, as everyone turned to stare at her.
"I was just thinking," Violet said, "that you are being very clever."
"That he is," said the grasshopper. The Spider nodded affectionately at both of them before turning to me.
"And what do you think about this, mantis?" he said.
I hesitated.
"I . . . I think it's a good idea, sir," I said.
The Spider clicked in disapproval.
"I told you," he said, "not to address me in that way. I do not approve of labels."
"Sorry. But, Spider . . ."
"Yes?"
"Can I use my own name?"
The Spider seemed to consider this.
"Well, if it empowers you, then you may," he said finally. "But can I ask that you not use it in the company of the lesser-ranked comrades? They might start getting ideas."
"All right."
"And when are we going to attack, Spider?" said Violet eagerly.
The Spider fixed her with a long, piercing stare.
"Tomorrow," he said to general delight. I remained silent.
