Every morning, the same line
Tony didn't mind the work.
Until, one night, he did.
Crunch. March. Stack. Repeat.
Every morning he woke up on time. Every morning he marched the same line. Every morning he hauled crumbs nearly bigger than his head.
At first, Tony didn't mind. Ants were supposed to work. That's what everyone said.
That night
While the colony slept, Tony crawled through a crack in the dirt and looked up.
Something clicked inside him. A single word, scratched into the dark: why?
Old. Rusty. Perfect.
He found towers of metal, mountains of junk — and a rocket ship. It was old, it was rusty, it was perfect.
Tony knew right then: this rocket would take him to the stars.
Not chance. Not luck.
Wonder. Just wonder — followed all the way to the edge of everything.
"You did it," Quaver said. "You followed your wonder."