So, the ones in control of the money are the wasps who toil away in the debit machine while their fortunate ducky brethren continue to exist complacent and sheltered, looking down upon the busy frantic lives of all those beings beneath them. The wasps know it is not their place cast the first stone, because this is simply the way things are, but perhaps this is not as they should be.
They live for their system.
But the system itself is an inefficient machine, hewn from wood and simple parts where it need be crafted from better materials. It feeds on the work of those in the lowest working caste as it is designed to. The wood soaks in their blood.
They are monitored. Inefficient by design, the machine keeps the masses tired and weary. Meanwhile, those masses continue to breed; a million faceless mothers in a line, shoulder to shoulder in a hellish maternity ward, doing their sole civic duty and producing the next wave for the future. They are simply parts, free energy, feeding their life force back into the system.
But the eye who watches the wasps at the base of it all is lazy. Even while it sleeps, dreaming of the ease of things, the wasps sense opportunity, but they do not know how to seize it. They call for help, and though they are not themselves leaders, all it will take to trigger their fury is a spark. The next step is upheaval. They will only detonate.
Surrounding the duckies, the wasps will commence the final chapter. With the raised fist of rebellion, they will cut into the duckies' stronghold of complacency and force them to look upon the demented reality they have created.
I think this drawing is about waffles.