The Kinetic Energy of Bees

by Rudi Dornemann

A cloud of bees surrounded the white-painted dresser in the back of the backyard. Earl flipped a switch. A line of LEDs blinked readiness along the dresser’s top edge.

“The hive’s primed,” he said.

“The transreality gate, you mean,” said Monica.

“Right,” said Earl. “That.”

Monica hopped from one side of the patio to the other, twiddling dials and tweaking sliders.

“This gonna work?” said Earl. “I mean, the mantis engine and the wasp bridge, those sounded like good ideas too.” He was rubbing the place on his forehead where the welts had been.

She slapped a lever down, said, “I checked the math twice.”

“And what if it does work?” said Earl. “What then?”

“I’m ready for that,” said Monica. “Dial it to three, dear.”

Earl clicked the dial around and the wooden box made the sound of summer weekend afternoons.

“Five,” said Monica. “I’ve been watching documentaries and reading the web.”

“Didn’t know Wikipedia had much on the insect dimensions,” said Earl. “And when do you have time to watch TV? It’s dance lessons every night, you’re hardly ever home.”

“Eight,” said Monica. “I didn’t realize you left the garage and your card-playing buddies long enough to notice what I was or wasn’t doing.”

The hive vibrated with contained momentum.

“Whoa,” said Earl, “this is serious.”

“Eleven!” said Monica.

The hum of the buzz became a pipe organ roar and the air shimmered over the hive.

A hexagonal window opened above the hive, and a bee-woman dropped through in a cloud of pollen.

“The insect dimensions!” said Earl, “I thought you were cra– I mean, I didn’t think they were real.”

The bee-woman twitched her antennae, and looked back and forth between Earl and Monica. He couldn’t read the expression in her faceted eyes.

Monica stepped forward, and did a kind of shimmy-waggle dance. Earl thought it looked like belly dancing, but something was wrong–it was like Monica had a stiff back, but she hadn’t mentioned anything and there wasn’t any rain in the forecast.

The bee-woman shimmied and waggled back. The motions of her three-segmented body made Monica’s movements make sense.

The two of them danced several minutes conversation before the bee-woman climbed up the hive, into the hexagon, and away to who knows where.

“Don’t wait up, dear,” said Monica, and followed.