Return — The Ant's Senses

I heard you live nearby. Kind of. I work in this area. My place isn't far.

I thought you bought a place here. That's still a ways off. It's pricey here. You don't mind, right?

Once in a while is fine. Let's just be direct. What's your monthly salary? Just over 10k after tax.

Just over 10k. People with your education, are they out of touch? Not really.

I rent and take the subway. During rush hour, quite grounded. I heard you have a PhD in biology.

I just started. Your pay is so low. That surprises me. Help!

Okay. Captain, trouble! At the mall next door, a freak— —creature attacking people.

We need the special forces. Now. Move! No wait.

It's not tracking by sight. It's an ant. Ants use antennae for chemical cues, and legs to sense vibrations.

Enlarged in size, that sensing system didn't scale up. Tile vibrations, running crowd, bass reverberation, glass echoes,

the metal escalator shaking— all of it is flooding its sensory system right now. It's not invincible.

It just hasn't been fully scrambled yet. You go to the fire exit. Don't take the elevator. Go now. Where are you going?

Control room. Are you insane? Open up. Who are you? No entry.

Don't. Power's off. Can't shut down. What?

It doesn't hunt by sight. Cut the audio now. That makes it lock onto crowds. Ah.