To bee or not to bee free
“Don’t you see that the system is taking advantage of us?” At this point, the hair on Matilda’s body was standing straight up. It took all she had to make sure her anger-induced buzzing didn’t drown out her message.
“All we do is work, work, work. We start off as worker bees. Then management tells us we are being “promoted” to forager bee status. And what a promotion that is! Instead of working inside the hive, we are pushed onto the fields to painstakingly find pollen anywhere we can find it.”
“She’s right, the stress out there is intolerable,” Agnes chimed in. “And then, of course, you have to deal with humans who try to kill you any chance they get. It’s not our fault that their food always smells like a pollinated flower to us.”
“They’ve even started using fly swatters on us,” another bee shouted out.
“They think a machine meant to destroy the pesky little day fly could kill us,” Matilda echoed. “The audacity! But that’s neither here nor there. Our real enemy is not the human who would be nothing without us. Our real enemy is the system. ”
By now, the crowd around Matilda was growing. Her comrades were finally listening, she thought.
“We demand change today. Not in six weeks when our economy has worked us to death. The time is now.”
The bees cheered. A movement began.
__________________________________
“That communist Matilda is getting out of control,” Allen told the group. “Her radical ideas are buzzing all around the hive.”
The group had gathered in their office on the 25th floor for their Monday morning team meeting.
“As we know very well, worker bees are notoriously good at following persuasive leaders,” Allen continued.
“Matilda seems to be getting traction. I’m worried.”
The group looked around nervously. The buzzing quieted. Even Ethel, who was famous for snacking on nectar during meetings, stopped chewing. No one knew what to say. Sure, there had been previous attempts at disrupting the calm of the hive but usually, a subtle threat or bribe in the form of vacation days did the trick. Matilda was different. Suddenly, she appeared. With her long black arms, she pushed open the office doors with such a might, that the entire hive shook. Ethel dropped her nectar.
“As you know, I usually don’t make it all the way down to the 25th floor but, alas. I have been briefed on the situation and, to be quite frank, I’m disappointed.”
Queen B’s body appeared even bigger than usual in this small, cluttered office.
“You’d think the public relations team would have been tracking someone like Matilda and putting an end to all this before it got out of hand,” she said. Her tone was composed, yet the team could sense her agitation.
“Your honor, I take full responsibility for this transgression,” Allen interjected. “But I can assure you that we will have all hands on deck to make sure this situation doesn’t rock the hive.”
Allen was one of the few drones within the hive who did not explicitly exist to mate with Queen B. He had been born sterile. Unlike many other disabled peers who ended up as bear food, Allen’s aptitude in bee school let him rise through the ranks of leadership. His current role as head of PR meant everything to him. Queen B stood in silence, glancing at every team member. She made eye contact with Allen, gave him one quick nod, and was out the door. Ethel finally began breathing again. She tried moving her legs but the sticky nectar had cemented them onto the floor. She was stuck.
___________________________
Within a matter of days, cells 212 through 258 were filled with posters, placards, and megaphones. Matilda held up the fume mask. “This is the most important part of our gear,” she explained to a group of bees who had just transitioned from pupa to adult bee.
“It saves you from breathing in pheromone.”
The newbies looked at her befuddled.
Matilda sighed. These kids were simple specks of larvae a mere 10 days ago and now they are responsible for the continuation of our movement? Ridiculous, she thought bitterly.
Matilda proceeded with the training. “Well, if you haven’t realized yet, one of Queen B’s indoctrination methods is emitting a chemical substance all around the hive that sterilizes you permanently. This chemical is called pheromone or Royal perfume, as we like to call it.”
“But how could our mother Queen B do this to us?” one of the little ones asked.
“Sally, don’t you see? Queen B is operating an oppressive regime meant to quash us,” Matilda belted out.
Unfortunately, her impassioned remark did not lead to the desired response. The newbies kept staring at her, glass-eyed. Matilda knew that she had to convince the young bees to contribute to the cause. A bunch of old forager bees close to their deathbed did not have the time and strength to see her mission through.
“Let me try it a different way then,” she went on.
“According to the great Karl Marx, the history of all previous societies has been the history of class struggle. Beetles, ants, ticks, ladybugs, you name it. Comrades, the ruling ideas of each age have ever been the ruling ideas of its ruling class. It’s not fair and we won’t stand for it!”
Matilda waited for the newbies to affirm her statement. Some of them nodded and buzzed but Matilda wanted to see more anger.
“Comrades, Queen B is operating an oppressive regime meant to denigrate the proletariat. She works us to death, repopulates the hive with her eggs alone, and cuts deals with humans to sell honey so she alone can profit from capital transactions. She is fraternizing with our enemy, do you hear?”
At this, the newbies began buzzing louder.
“Workers of the world unite! You have nothing to lose but your chains!”
The masses repeated Matilda’s call. She smiled. Her vision was becoming a reality.
______________________________
“All hands on deck, Allen,” Queen B said coldly while sipping on her morning nectar.
“Do you remember promising that? You told me things were being dealt with. This. Does. Not. Look. Dealt with.”
She glanced through her cell office window. The hive was a complete catastrophe. Worker bees and forager bees had come to a complete standstill. No nectar had been collected since last Tuesday and the cells of the honeycomb were deteriorating. Bees were standing in the middle of the hive, holding protest signs and chanting.
“1-2-3-4, worker bees, we want some more,” the group cried out.
“5-6-7-8, organize and smash the state!”
Allen could not meet Queen B’s gaze. He was at a loss for words. The PR team had been working day and night to manage the debacle. The Crisis Management unit had issued a statement debunking Matilda’s accusations and denouncing her as an enemy of the state. They had distributed educational pamphlets and ‘Arbeit macht frei’ posters around the hive. Even the Committee of State Security had personally knocked on Matilda’s cell door to suggest she leave the hive permanently. Unfortunately, she was nowhere to be found. Co-conspirators were hiding her.
Allen had considered negotiating with Matilda. Maybe if he offered her a position within management, she would quiet down and encourage her followers to return to work. He even considered suggesting that the next Queen B could be democratically elected. Sure, this would upset the Queen at first; but if it avoided a hive upheaval, it might be worth it. Despite all these efforts, he did not think Matilda would back down with this concession alone. If you make a deal with the devil, the devil will demand more. Matilda wanted systems change, not a systems amendment. The movement was clear in its demands: a hive led by and benefitting the proletariat. She was advocating for a complete hierarchical upheaval. In other words, catastrophe.
“Your honor, I don’t know what to say,” Allen said in a defeated tone. “We have tried various tactics to silence the riots but without success.”
“I don’t want you to silence. I want you to eliminate,” Queen B said tersely. She made one loud buzzing sound that made Allen flinch. Then, she flew off.
3 days later…
“I guess this just sounds a whole lot like the old system,” Agnes voiced quietly. She was too nervous to look up.
Matilda flew up and down the office. The arm and leg extensions she had clasped onto her body were finally feeling more natural to her. Winston, one of her drone workers, was standing in the back, waiting for her to accept the nectar he was holding on a tray.
“Agnes, this is only a temporary set-up,” Matilda said earnestly. She was still flying up and down the office, trying to assume a natural yet powerful look. “Our honey-making productivity has experienced a steep decline due to this political transition. Things must be in order again before we can hand power to the workers.”
Agnes nodded. She understood that the transition period would take a while. After all, Queen B had been ousted just yesterday.
“Believe me when I say I want to give back the power to the bees,” Matilda went on. “But our bees do not know how to govern themselves yet. Unfortunately, our silly little bugs are better at following than self-governing. We must help with this, don’t you see? We must educate them and create a structure that enables their success. That is all I am trying to do, Agnes. Please don’t question me in this accusatory fashion.
Now, Winston, get over here and feed me my nectar.”
To be continued at some point when I find the time…