Despite Queen’s protests, I decided that mothering time would have to wait. I just couldn’t imagine treating them that way before I would be forced to remove some from the Link. Although, maybe that would be the best time to do so. And so, I decided to mother them fully just before the reverse Link plan was put into effect.
And with that, it was early into the night when Beelzebub arrived. The moon was barely peeking over the horizon and the sun had just finished setting, and I watched through the eyes of some warriors stationed at the hive’s wall as the shadowy form of some thing lumbered through the skeletal trees. That thing was, of course, Beelzebub. As for why I wasn’t watching out of her eyes? Well, she always seemed to be seeing red. And this time was no different.
“Help me carry this to Mom! This medicine will make her all better!” she shouted at the two dumbfounded bees. In short order, they were helping her lug the contraption over the wall, though their measly strength made little difference. Beelzebub was easily stronger than ten of them put together, but even she couldn’t call this task effortless.
The Antithought medication apparently needed to be administered by a special machine; though the engineering was less advanced than my own world by a significant margin, it was still impressive to see the shiny metal and confusing mechanics of the device. It reminded me of something steampunky - although that might just have been because the mechanisms were practically science fiction to my untrained eyes. Unfortunately, the thing wasn’t just heavy - it was delicate. Beelzebub could lift and move it with minimal impact on her movement, but it was this carefulness that really slowed her down. As if the machine itself wasn’t problem enough, the actual medicine inside it apparently couldn’t be shaken or jostled too much either. It would have been better to send multiple bees to pass it on, but Beelzebub did a good enough job.
Unfortunately, my confidence in the medicine, or what little confidence existed, was rapidly being flushed down the proverbial toilet. We didn’t know exactly how this machine worked. And what were the chances that it could administer the medicine into my bee body? Not great, in my opinion.
“At least we have made headway into the reverse Link. Especially with Beatrice’s newfound enthusiasm.”
Ah yes. Beatrice was clearly not happy about my threat to love and care for her, because she was working three times as hard as before to figure out a way to make the Reverse Link possible. As a result, we had some ideas with merit, and two that got tested with relative success.
Although, the actual tests hadn’t been done yet. Nobody had been un-Linked. The ideas of Belle and Beatrice just got tested by Beck with minimal resources and they found that their brain didn’t blow up. If we wanted real confirmation, we’d have to take the plunge and un-Link a daring volunteer. Currently, I was waiting on the (very slow) CBU to package the two methods so I could send the exacting specs to the volunteer. We needed a process as delicate as this to go perfectly, so we weren’t taking any risks with differing interpretations of instructions or anything. Who knew what would happen once the Link was undone? The bee might become a mindless animal, incapable of following the instructions. And I didn’t know how easy it would be to re-Link a bee. Which was why I was nervous about removing someone.
Beatrice said there was no way she’d be the one. Which I agreed with. I would have expected her to be the best guinea pig, only because I expected her to actually be able to follow the instructions perfectly in any situation. But the other bees… At least one of them would have to be the first to be removed from the hive.
“They won’t truly be removed from the hive. Oh, and especially don’t tell them that. If you do, not a single one would volunteer.”
Volunteer, huh? Eventually I’d have to ask them to do so, but I really didn’t want to. More than bad, I felt sick asking them to do this for me. Only a few knew the whole details about what was going to happen, and all the ones who knew were immediately crossed off the list by Beatrice.
“Either stalling for the medicine or stalling for the CBU, you know what will need to be done. Not that I am particularly thrilled either. All we can do is hope that the medicine works. Or maybe that Beau’s concept of reversing the existing Link will pan out.”
I wouldn’t rely on those. I can’t. Especially not now. When the sun had begun to set, and the hive’s brainstorm fell into a rhythm, I started to feel something. A discomfort between the eyes. I realized that it had been present the entire time, but I had just been ignoring it. Powering through it. But I knew what it was. The effects of Mind Collapse weren’t just going to go away this time. This was what? My third time suffering the condition? Third time’s a charm, I guess. Queen and I both knew that unless this medicine of the humans was actual magic, our fears would come to pass.
“Beatrice, I need our top minds, including myself, to figure out the Antithought medication. This is our first attempt, and if it doesn’t work, the nuclear option will be the only choice.”
Without a word, I felt Beatrice command some warriors to help the medication along, and I moved to exit the central hive for the first time in days. As I passed the wax corridors, a thought occurred to me.
Queen, what do you remember about your mother’s hive? I mean, when I think about it, I struggle to imagine how it would be possible for an ordinary bee to have a hive with hundreds of bees, let alone thousands. I know a ton of space is taken up by Linking humans in our Mind, but even then, our Mind is three times more efficient - and it’s powerful to boot. Unless your mom had way higher than a 10th Degree Mind, I can’t see her hive being so numerous. How did she keep all those bees Linked?
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“…Those are questions I don’t have answers to. I knew my mother’s Mind, but not so well. I was within her Kin Link, but she was, as you might say, an animal. As was I. All I can say for certain is that even with our drones, the most lowly of our family, the cost we incur must be much higher. I do know why I can say so, but I know it to be true. Perhaps it was a poorly planned attempt at reducing our capabilities on the part of the gods. Perhaps they thought that they could limit our numbers, not foreseeing the power we could wield with but a few. Or the ways in which we could make those limitations disappear.”
A limitation? Was something like that really necessary? Food was a tough enough obstacle to overcome already. I’ve thought it before, but I think this world’s gods are just massive assholes.
“Assholes they might be. The Human is certainly not our friend. But the Bee at least seems to desire our survival. To some extent. They helped you and I to live as one, rather than allow either of us to perish. And whether intentional or not, they gave us Combined Minds, which has proven to be potent enough to trivialize matters of Mind.”
Well. Not a good look for my home team, I guess.
By the time I met Beelzebub halfway, some bees were already buzzing around her, trying to figure out how the Antithought medication worked. While they clamored, I watched Beelzebub set it gently on the ground, snapping at some warriors to let her do it herself. Honestly, the device freaked me out. It looked like a stainless steel electric chair, with needles poking out of plush fabric on the upper back and headrest. Two vials, made of a nearly entirely transparent metal, were attached to either side of the same headrest, and held a dark red solution that I assumed to be the medicine.
The medical scientists of this world really needed to work on branding or something. This looked more like a torture device than a miraculous cure for a ubiquitous malady. And I could already see several problems with this whole thing. For one, the obvious: I don’t have a human head or upper back. The needles were likely placed in areas specifically designed to distribute the liquid into the bloodstream in the most efficient way possible. Likewise, the gears and clamps on the tubes, all attached to a small box at the back of the chair with a rod sticking out, implied some other mechanics I didn’t understand. If I had to guess, then the mechanical energy Yiwi used with their Rotor was actually a pretty common form of powering things. If the box on the back was meant to be wound with the rod, and that box activated the chair’s mechanics, that meant there was way more at work here.
Did the medicine have to be distributed evenly, in certain dosages at certain times? Did different amounts of medication need to be used depending on a person’s situation? I’m no doctor, damn it! I have no idea what I’m supposed to even be doing with this information.
Finally, Belle spoke up. “Mother, I’d advise against using the medication. While the reverse Link isn’t a surefire thing, it certainly beats the uncertainty this human medicine introduces.”
“I disagree,” Beau said from her perch atop the chair. She didn’t stop studying the intricate machinery as she spoke. “If there’s even a chance that this will work, I’d say it’s worth trying. Better to chance the human medi-thing working than guarantee a removal of bees from the Link.”
“Oh, so now you feel the need to defend our bees from being removed from the Link? Brilliant,” Belle said reproachfully. Of course, Beau didn’t respond.
“What about you, Belphegora? Beatrice? What do you think?” I asked the two. Both sat for a minute, observing the machine and thinking about what to do. Finally, Belphegora turned her head towards me.
“I will always take an option that spares our bees. Or at least has a chance to. But this… There are simply too many unknowns. By the time we figure this thing out, well, the reverse Link may be completely solved. It was a decent idea, but we knew from the beginning that a product of the humans carried more risk than hope. I say we should not use it.”
That just left Beatrice. Well, there were plenty of bees willing to voice their opinions. Beelzebub wanted to keep the chair because it looked ‘wicked’. Beck had confidence in the reverse Link and didn’t want to risk anything with the medication, and Bess - well, Bess felt a little in over her head. I wondered why she even bothered to come investigate the medication, if she knew that her brainpower was better served trying to engineer the reverse Link.
“Mother. I will cast my vote towards using it. However, it is not because I believe that to be the correct course of action, but because I realize that the score must be tied. That will force you to choose. I am sorry, but I believe this is a choice you must make, regardless of our thoughts. I have come to understand that, efficient though we see ourselves to be, we are too singular in thought. First comes protection of the Queen. Second comes the hive. But mixed in with those two prerogatives, we have our own ideas. Hopes. Fears. Desires. Our simplicity is muddied with something more. And so, we cannot make the decision. And in this situation, I do not see either as being right or wrong. There is only the choice that you, our queen and mother, make. Our influence is not always, I have noticed, helpful or efficient.”
Seriously? I mean, great speech and all, but that doesn’t exactly help me with this fuckery of a situation. Hm, if I looked through her thoughts, though, I couldn’t exactly blame her. In her eyes, we had taken too long to figure out the Mind Collapse situation at every step of the way. And when the sun set and her deadline for the solution of the reverse Link passed, something snapped in her. Her obsession with efficiency clashed with her other desires, culminating in a new decision. We had too much red tape. Too much bureaucracy. Boy, if I could only express to her how terrible actual bureaucracy was, she might actually love our current situation.
“Okay. In that case, the choice is easy. Let’s do our best to decode this damn chair.”
________
I say, but easier said than done. The bees and I toiled, and all the while, the CBU eventually completed its task. I didn’t send the B-mail just yet, though. Until we attempted using the medication, I didn’t want the bees to have to make their decision. Instead, I poured everything into piecing together the ins and outs of the Antithought medication device.
When the moon reached further above the horizon, we finally figured it out. How the device worked. What the springs and gears inside the box were meant to achieve. And best of all, how to use just two needles to inject the concoction into my body. All that was left was to hope the medicine didn’t act as poison to my decidedly inhuman biology.