‘Quite so, Your Majesty.’ The interior minister smiled ingratiatingly. Pointing to the wires on the floor, he said to Niniken, ‘Professor, as you are surely well aware, for a dinosaur to successfully join those wires, they would need to be ten to fifteen centimetres in diameter. And if they were that large, we’d be looking at mobile phones with wires as thick as saplings, and computers too, for that matter. And if we wanted our machines to be operated and maintained by dinosaurs, half of them would need to be at least a hundred times bigger than they are now, if not several hundred times bigger. Our consumption of resources and energy would increase a hundredfold, at least. There is no way our economy could withstand such a shift.’

The science minister nodded his acknowledgement. ‘You’re right. And of course some things just can’t be scaled up. In optical and electromagnetic communications equipment, for example, the wavelength of electromagnetic waves, including lightwaves, dictates the size of the components used to modulate and process them; they simply cannot be any larger. Computers and networks would be quite literally unimaginable if there were no small components. And the same applies in the fields of molecular biology and genetic engineering.’

The health minister now had his say too. ‘Because our internal organs are relatively big, it is feasible for dinosaur surgeons to operate in certain cases. But the ants’ surgical techniques are non-invasive and therefore safer and more effective. Records show that in the past dinosaur surgeons did on occasion perform invasive surgery, but the technique has been lost. To recover it, we would need to master a range of other techniques such as general anaesthesia and wound suturing. There’s also the matter of expectations and habits. Having enjoyed several millennia of ant medical care, most dinosaurs would find the prospect of being cut open during surgery absolutely unacceptable. So, at least for the foreseeable future, modern medicine cannot function without the ants.’

‘The dinosaur–ant alliance is an evolutionary choice with profound implications. Without this alliance, civilisation could not exist on Earth. We absolutely cannot allow the ants to destroy this alliance,’ the science minister concluded.

‘But what recourse do we have?’ the emperor grumbled, drumming his claws in irritation.

Defence Minister Lologa finally broke his silence. ‘Your Majesty, the Ant Federation admittedly has many advantages on its side, but we have power on ours. The empire should make use of this power.’

Dadaeus cocked his head, letting the implications percolate through his imperial brain. A decision was made. ‘Very well, Field Marshal,’ he said, ‘order the chief of staff to formulate a plan of action.’

‘Field Marshal…’ The interior minister grabbed hold of Lologa before he could leave. ‘It’s crucial that you coordinate with Laurasia on this.’

‘He’s right,’ the emperor interjected. ‘We must act in unison with them, lest Dodomi play the good dino and win the ants over to Laurasia’s side.’

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