Hive Mind

A screech owl was calling. She could feel it in her feet.

The call rippled through the moonlit night, down wildflower shoots into the soil, sending shivers through the particles of rock and humus around her. She didn’t know what a screech owl was. She paused, but not for too long, because she’d heard this sound before—she’d heard it every night since she’d chosen this place to excavate her burrow. So far, the maker of the sound hadn’t eaten her. She refocused on her work. There was so much to learn about in this world, but there was even more to do.

She peered down the small side chamber, taking stock. Its walls were pleasantly smooth; they were ready to be painted. Contorting her body, she used her forked tongue to gather a secretion from a gland in her abdomen. She mixed it with saliva and licked it onto the chamber walls.

The night wore on and the screech owl quieted. The coating on the walls dried to a waterproof skin—the perfect shelter for a growing baby bee. She tested it with a leg and felt a burst of satisfaction. Then a few molecules of flower scent tumbled down the tunnel and bumped against her antennae. It was time to forage. She crawled up the entrance, where the first rays of sunlight lit fires in flecks of quartz, and poked her head out.

She smelled serviceberry flowers blooming and saw a clear blue sky above her and the mounds of other solitary bees all around, and in front of her, perched on the ground, was a robot.

“Do not be afraid,” chirped the robot, which was about the size of a small mouse. “I am a B3704 Pollination Drone—“

She didn’t know what a robot was. She didn’t understand the noises it was sending up into her feet. She looked at its white and silver form, a mix of wings and round black eyes and unnatural geometries, and ducked back down into her burrow.

”—designed to help farmers grow the food you eat,“ the robot continued, now muffled by the soil. “I do not sting. I was made by a corporation called called Apistek and you can send them your feedback at comments dot questions at Apistek dot com. Apistek—partnering with nature to secure tomorrow’s future today.”

It fell silent.

She waited.

She poked her head out of the burrow again.

“Do not be afraid,” chirped the robot, which had not moved. “I am a B3704 Pollination Drone—“

She ducked back down in her burrow.

She waited.

She poked her head up again. This time, the robot stood in silence. She had the sense that it was studying her, but it did not move, so she crept farther out of the entrance. Soon she had enough space to unfold her wings.

She sprung into the sky, buoyed by the urgency of her work. The robot watched her rise. She made a quick circuit above her nest, as she always did, to remind herself of the landmarks so she’d be sure to find it again. The area looked like it had the day before—a flat expanse of dry soil, dotted with bee burrows—except that now there was a robot. She caught a plume of serviceberry perfume and traced it upwind.

***

He opened the car door and the spring air hit him like a rogue wave. It was impossibly fresh, full of forest smells, and he felt, as always, the deep regret of someone who reluctantly worked in an office.

He looked down at his phone. He’d gotten no texts or emails from Will; the man was late, as always. Grumbling, he passed the sign that said NO TRESPASSING BY ORDER OF APISTEK, POLICE TAKE NOTICE and began the walk down the muddy road to the test field.

Soon the woods opened up. The road intersected with a loop that bordered something improbable: a field of strawberry plants, arranged in even rows, unnaturally green against the brown of the early spring woods. He checked his phone again—no messages. He sighed and looked around. His eyes snagged on a flurry of insect activity at the edge of the woods. A group of cellophane bees had dug their solitary burrows in a sunny patch of dirt. They belonged to genus Colletes, he thought to himself. He approached and bent down to take a closer look. The little bees peered up at him from the safety of their burrows.

“Gordon!” came an affable voice from behind him. “Always great to connect.”

Gordon turned and saw the CEO striding toward him. Will’s clothes were casual but perfectly so, with every rumple somehow emanating ludicrous expense. The CEO stood out against the forest’s gentle chaos even more than the perfect rows of strawberries.

Gordon jumped up and the two men shook hands. Will’s palm was soft but his grip was iron-strong. “Let’s go see our superstars, yeah?” said Will. They began to walk between the strawberry rows. Here and there, a pollinator drone buzzed down into one of the waiting white flowers. Will crowed “Excellent, excellent,” though to Gordon, the drones seemed slightly sparser than usual. Had some predator knocked a few of them out of the sky? The worry nipped at the edges of his mind and he made a note to look into it.

They reached a white box on stilts at the center of the field. Pollinator drones flew in and out through a small hole, and a few stood guard, calmly watching the men. Gordon felt a strange tug at his chest—he’d spent most of his life as a beekeeper, and his mind knew that these weren’t honeybees, but his stupid heart saw a hive and gave a joyful flop.

The CEO reached out and flicked one of the drones with his fingernail. It stumbled backward and then righted itself and faced them. “Do not be afraid,” it chirped. “I am a B3704 Pollination Drone designed to help farmers grow the food you eat…”

“Perfect,” said Will to Gordon. “So, give me an update. How are we looking? And remember: Optimism, optimism!”

Gordon summoned his most cheerful voice. “Pollination efficiency is finally within desired parameters. The drone-to-drone communication is flowing smoothly. All in all, this test hive has greater cohesion, and we’re tentatively happy with its behavior overall.”

“Perfect. Well, we’re ready to scale up. Let’s bring in the investors and show them what we’ve got.”

Gordon’s eyes popped. “I… with all due respect, Will, I don’t think we’re ready. This is the first colony we’ve established that hasn’t just flown off or spontaneously died. We’re only just learning about their behaviors, their emergent properties.”

“Come on, Gordon. They’re bees. They’re not going to go hijack a truck or rewrite Shakespeare.”

“They’re robots, Will. We gave them a strong urge to want to be bees, and we’re hoping that’ll help paper over any behavioral gaps, but … how do I explain this? We don’t even know the shape of the gaps, or how many there are. There’s so much we don’t know about what these drones do, and will, behave. It’s a matter of efficacy AND safety.”

Will grinned. “Gordon, Gordon. Always so negative. We’re saving the world, here! In a time of unprecedented global change, we are augmenting the environment for the benefit of all. That can’t wait, right?”

Gordon looked out at the clean rows of strawberries. Inside his head, he took a deep breath and launched into a mighty speech. He explained that he was grateful for the job and the paycheck, but he reminded Will that honeybees weren’t native to the area, and, if anything, Apistek’s fieldwork was displacing native bees whose ecological functions weren’t fully understood even now. Also, Apistek’s AI was gobbling up water and energy and hastening climate change, which harmed both insects and agriculture in complex ways. His imaginary speech culminated in an explanation that humanity was nowhere near knowledgeable enough to replace the natural systems it relied on, and that working together and protect those systems was in every sense cheaper, wiser, and better for every living being on the planet. In his mind, an offscreen orchestra swelled. In his mind, Will’s mouth dropped open in realization.

Outside his mind, Gordon said, “Right.”

“Great. Another thing—for our demo, I want to expand this field. It’s too small. We want it to look impressive. We’ll clear the adjacent land and bring in some pre-grown plants.”

Gordon’s eyes popped wide. “I don’t know how this batch of drones will perform at that scale.”

Will grinned. “Way ahead of you. We’ll copy this particular hive in triplicate or quadruplicate. Whatever best fits the space. The excavators arrive tomorrow. I want you here at 8 am to make sure those guys won’t damage the drones.”

That was the moment when Gordon realized that he wasn’t in an actual meeting. This was a box to be checked. Gordon barely felt it when Will clapped him on the shoulder and said something in farewell, then strode back down the road. Feeling dizzy, he let his eyes rest unfocused on the buzzing field until he almost saw honeybees.

***

Her vision filled with creamy white petals, soothing and gentle. The scent of nectar thrilled her. She dipped her long tongue into the serviceberry blossom and slurped. Pollen tickled her antennae, and she gathered it up, sticking it to dense tufts of leg hairs. She backed out of the bloom and flew on through the woods.

Between the excellent foraging and the sunlight flooding down between the mostly leafless trees, her body hummed with satisfaction. She saw more pollinator drones scattered throughout the woods, but she was becoming accustomed to them. Some of them sat on the forest floor or perched in branches watching various bees fly by. Others buzzed along, following bees in gentle pursuit. They didn’t seem dangerous. She noted their positions and flew past them.

As she circled around a large oak trunk, she heard a scuffle in the leaf litter. She descended to investigate, making sure to keep a safe distance. A couple of angry bumble bees were hovering above the beginnings of a nest. A chipmunk strode towards them, teeth bared. She didn’t know what a chipmunk was, but she didn’t like its sharp teeth and the stark warning stripes down its back. It looked hungry, fierce, monstrous.

Quick as a wingbeat, a drone zipped in out of nowhere and pounced on the chipmunk. The mammal squeaked in rage. They rolled into a fierce squabble, the drone chirping “Do not be afraid. I am a B3704 Pollination Drone—“ as fur flew in the sunlight. Finally, the chipmunk gave a furious squeal and bounded away.

A tremble fluttered down her body, but it dissipated quickly. This was a confusing but pointless distraction. She caught another whiff of serviceberry perfume and zipped through the woods. She felt the relief of the familiar as she entered the embrace of its petals. Again she drank nectar and packed pollen onto her legs.

The sun had passed its zenith; shadows stalked across the dead leaves on the forest floor. It was time to return to the nest. She made her way past bushes and small trees to the familiar bare patch at the edge of the oddly green field. Peering down, she circled until she found the entrance to her burrow.

This morning’s drone was still sitting silently next to it. The robot barely even registered to her perceptual system now. She flew down into her nest.

In the tunnel, she approached the chamber she’d built the night before. She emptied the nectar from her stomach and worked it into the pollen she’d collected, creating a nutritious blend. Next, she laid a single white egg above the food. She sealed off the chamber with more of the saliva and abdominal gland mixture and stepped back.

She was unaware of what she’d just done. She didn’t know that the sealed space was now perfectly stocked with food for a baby—one that would emerge next spring long, after the earth reclaimed her body. Still, the act gave her a rush of satisfaction. She was doing her work and doing it well.

Her burrow darkened. The screech owl started its trill. She began to dig another chamber.

***

As the first light of morning warmed the mouth of her burrow, she crawled toward the circle of blue sky. She could smell new blossoms with new bounties of pollen and nectar. The air felt fresh and good. Another morning, another foraging trip—

A powerful rumble drove up her legs, almost toppling her over.

She braced herself. Was this an even larger screech owl? No, this didn’t match any sensation she’d felt before. She withdrew down the nest hole and crouched, waiting for the danger to pass.

***

Gordon opened the car door, inhaled the fresh spring air, and sneezed. The fleet of trucks was already moving down the narrow dirt road. Their sides gouging wounds into the adjacent trees, their wheels tearing up the dirt. Dutifully, Gordon tromped after them. Soon his boots were caked with mud, which didn’t help his foul mood one bit.

The line of trucks stopped as the first one reached the strawberry field. Gordon ran up to the lead vehicle and waved at the driver. A woman hopped out of a truck. “You Gordon?” she rasped. He nodded, and shook a hand so coarse and muscled that it made him feel like a damp napkin. She handed him a hard hat. “We’ll do our best to avoid your field, but we can’t promise anything. Stay out of our way, right?”

He nodded. Awkwardly donning the hard hat, he walked a few feet into the strawberry field. He didn’t see any drones; they were probably hiding out in the hive. Sensible. He’d never felt so useless. He was a beekeeper without bees, pretending to oversee a team of people far more competent than he was, feeling the moisture from the mud on his shoes begin to soak into his socks.

An excavator rumbled as it headed toward one of the adjacent sections of forest. Suddenly, it jerked to a stop. Was it stuck in the mud?

The truck bounced forward another foot or two and stopped again. Gordon thought he heard yelling. Yelling and, strangely, a deep buzzing. There was something floating in the air, moving between the trucks. It was silver and drifted like a cloud, only faster.

More people were yelling. Fire bloomed in one of the trucks. Someone was running. Another truck burst into flames. Screams. The cloud drifted closer to him. No, not a cloud. It looked like the mass gathering of honeybees as they left the hive to choose a new nest site. This was a swarm.

Gordon stumbled backwards, crushing strawberry plants. The cloud was close now, a swarm of drones that moved as one; a thousand angry wings and dark glinting eyes.

It filled his vision as it sang in a unified voice, “Do not be afraid.”