Victor sat in the dim light of his room, his only company the glass box resting on his desk: a small ant farm he had set up weeks ago. The closed curtains blocked the daylight, leaving only the desk lamp to faintly illuminate the tiny world of the ants. Every day, upon waking, Victor would go directly to them, as though observing them was a secret ritual that only he understood.

  The ceaseless movement of the tiny creatures mesmerized him. He watched them work in perfect harmony, digging tunnels, transporting minuscule grains of sand, and sharing their food with mathematical precision. He admired how the ants functioned as a single entity, without deviations, without doubts. He wondered if, in their tiny existence, they felt as trapped as he did in that room, repeating the same cycle day after day.

  As the days passed, Victor began noticing patterns. In the colony, there was a robust queen, surrounded by the worker ants who cared for her with devotion. They were expanding the nest, creating new passages and chambers in the darkness of the substrate. Victor noticed how one ant, in particular, stood out from the rest: a larger worker, perhaps stronger, who seemed to lead certain operations. She was persistent, guiding the others through the labyrinths they wove beneath the earth. Victor mentally named her "the commander."

  Day by day, Victor’s routine revolved around that tiny world. He didn't leave his room, didn't answer calls. His thoughts were completely immersed in the lives of the ants. And then, one morning, something unusual happened. The commander had deviated from her usual path. She wasn't working or helping the others; she simply stood in front of the glass, as if watching him.

  Victor leaned forward, perplexed. That ant seemed to be staring at him, her tiny antennae moving rhythmically, as if studying him. A strange sensation crawled up his spine, so unsettling that he turned away abruptly, but there was nothing. Still, the feeling lingered, and he forced himself not to think about it.

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  In the following days, things began to fall apart inside the colony. The workers stopped building and transporting food. The queen, usually still, seemed to move restlessly, searching for something. But the commander stayed there, near the glass, watching. Victor felt her gaze intensify, more penetrating. He told himself it was all in his head, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from that small figure, now seemingly in control of the environment.

  One night, insomnia consumed him. He couldn’t tear himself away from the ant farm; that strange, suffocating feeling wouldn’t let him breathe. Suddenly, something changed. A crack, tiny, almost imperceptible, appeared in the glass of the farm. Victor rushed forward. "What’s happening?" he whispered, watching as the crack slowly expanded.

  At that moment, the ants began to emerge.

  It started with just a few, but more and more poured out, spreading across the surface of his desk. Victor stepped back, bewildered, watching as the order of the tiny world unraveled before his eyes. Chaos reigned as the ants formed a kind of circle on the desk. And in the center of that circle, the commander.

  An ordinary ant should not behave like this.

  Without warning, a muffled crash echoed through the room. The crack in the glass grew, and suddenly, the very walls of the room began to tremble. Victor clutched the edge of the desk, feeling the ground beneath his feet disappear. The ants had stopped moving; now they stood still, watching him from every angle.

  And then, the entire room shattered.

  The floor, the walls, even the air around Victor tore apart like fragile layers of paper. Everything crumbled. What was once his room now revealed itself to be a giant glass box, a vast ant farm. And Victor, terrified, realized he too was being watched.