The Legendary Beekeeper-Chapter 53: Draft

Beelathorn dreamt.

Of an old man working on a bee farm. Sweat beaded at the man’s forehead, yet a smile was on his face. His hands were like sandpaper, rough from years of working without protection, yet they held a deep affection as he worked to clean the beehives.

"Are you paying attention?"

Beelathorn nodded, and the man patted him on the shoulder. "Beautiful, aren’t they? In a colony, they all work for the greater good of the whole," the man said. "Even the Queen, as important as she is, cares for each and every worker bee in her colony. After all, where would she be without them?" he whispered.

"Here, every cog is important. Everyone has a purpose."

Beelathorn opened his mouth to reply, but it was a young boy’s voice that came out.

"Like you, Papa? If you weren’t here, the bees wouldn’t be happy, and they wouldn’t make the honey."

The old man shook his head, and for an instant his smile wavered. "The bees would make honey just fine, Han," he replied. "Remember, the beekeeper is a thief. He acts like he cares, but he only does it because he wants to take."

"But a thief, Papa? You’re not a thief," the young boy protested.

The old man crouched down so that he would be at eye level with the young boy. "You’re right, son. I’m not," he whispered, his smile coming back to him.

"But humans are not like bees. We don’t do things for the greater good of the whole," he said, before pulling something out of his pocket. Beelathorn couldn’t see what it was, even as the old man held it in front of him; it looked fuzzy, as if this part of reality had been corrupted... forgotten.

"Beware the beekeepers son. Those people who look like they care but only want to take."

Beelathorn remained silent, for he already knew the reply that was coming. All those years ago, even at such a young age, he remembered what he had told his father.

"When I grow up, I’ll become a beekeeper just like you, Papa. Then we’ll be like the bees. Everyone will be important."

His father laughed at that and continued his work. However, Beelathorn remembered the troubled look on his father’s face.

’Based on other memories from the creature known as "Papa", this particular memory seems... odd.’

With that, the dream in front of Beelathorn disappeared, leaving behind a black expanse. ’A dream, huh?’ Beelathorn replied.

’Negative. Not a dream. This was a targeted memory retrieval process. 200 000 other memories have already been sifted through,’ the other part of his mind replied. ’And from extracted patterns, this one is anomalous. "Father" is acting strange here. This is not dialogue consistent with his character at this time. Too complex to be had with a child offspring.’

Beelathorn took a moment to reply, remembering what happened later that day.

’Grief?’ the other part of his mind inferred. ’The characters known as "mother" and "sister" left the family unit on that day. Is that why?’

Beelathorn didn’t reply.

’Memories of "mother" cannot be found anywhere else. And memories of "sister" have been altered. Shall we-’

’Stop. I want to wake up now...’ Beelathorn interrupted. ’And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go snooping around my memories.’

The other side of Beelathorn’s mind remained silent for a moment. ’Repeated use of individualistic language could cause a fracturing of the self. We are a-’

’Fragile existence. I know,’ Beelathorn jumped in. ’But these are old memories. "We" were not yet. And what’s done is done. Let’s focus on the current mission.’

Silence descended once again. ’Heightened stress levels have been detected. If these memories are cause for distraction, they can be erased.’

’No!... No. You don’t erase any memories, got that? They’re important. I... we need to remember them. We must never forget.’

Silence once again.

’Noted. This particular memory has been copied and saved within several memory pathways. Likelihood of "forgetting" is close to null.’

’Now commencing cortisol awakening response. Expected "waking" state in 30 minutes.’

***

For the first time since arriving at Apocalypse, Beelathorn awoke... at peace. No headache, no immediate danger, just a soft pillow and the sound of people talking outside.

It was enough to almost convince him that he was back on Earth... almost.

Regardless, he knew he had to get up and begin his work. Earth or Apocalypse, the things he wanted would only come to him if he pryed them out of life’s selfish jaws.

’How long until the ’sentinel’ is born?’ he asked, getting up from bed.

The other part of Beelathorn’s mind stirred. ’Primitive neural structures have been developed. "Birth" is expected in 6 days. However...’

Beelathorn was walking towards the extension station now. ’However?’

’Current development rate shows a... bottleneck will be reached within 5 days. The host body seems to have insufficient materials needed for complete development.’

Beelathorn paused at that. ’So what? It’s going to be a still birth?’ he replied.

’Heightened stress levels have been detected.’

Beelathorn had to keep himself from screaming out loud. ’Of fucking course I’m stressed. Do you know what I gambled to get that? Those Hive fuckers threatened to erase my bloodline, and now you’re telling me I did all that for nothing?’

’Negative. Chances of "stillbirth" are near null. Goldbornes are biologically incapable of dying during fetal development.’

Beelathorn’s heart calmed at that, and with a sigh, he rested on the extension station. ’Then what is it? What do you mean we have insufficient materials?’

The super-mind took a few moments to respond, which in itself scared Beelathorn a little. The super-mind never took this long to reply.

’Error. Insufficient information, an assumption cannot be made. However, development trajectory does indeed indicate a halt in development within 5 days.’

"Fuck," Beelathorn sighed. ’I guess... "We" guess, we aren’t really all knowing, are we?’

’Affirmative. We are using statistical patterns in data to output highly probable outcomes.