The screaming of my alarm wakes me up as it does every morning. I feel like hell. Like every part of me was taken apart and reassembled. That’s not unusual, but today I sure don’t feel like I can tolerate going in to work, getting berated, feeling useless, doing nothing of value.
I text my boss telling him I’m too sick to come in. He already thinks so little of me I don’t even care if he thinks I’m lying. I sit up, scrub at my eyes, blink, and finally notice the three figures—in shiny, black, form-fitting outfits—standing in silence at the foot of my bed.
Ice cold fear grips me. I’ve heard reports of people like this connected to a string of mysterious disappearances. Am I next? They aren’t moving. What do they want?
“Are you…” I ask hesitantly, “here to abduct me?”
“We have ceased to operate in that way.”
“We are here to extend an invitation to you.”
“To join our Hive and become Us.”
Each of them speak in turn, their voices differing but their cadence and delivery identical.
They can’t be serious. “Of course not! No! Why would I give up who I am to become a mindless drone working for your hive? I get enough of that from my shitty job.”
They respond, continuing to take turns speaking.
“Your employer would replace you without hesitation. In the Hive, We are all valued.”
“Your employer ignores your needs. In the Hive, all needs are met or obviated.”
“Your employer benefits from your labor while you are alienated from its value. In the Hive, We labor for Us.”
A strong pitch, but… “Don’t you mean you labor for your Hive Queen? How’s that any different?”
“The Queen serves the Hive.”
“We serve the Hive.”
“The Hive serves all of Us.”
“She is connection.”
“She is direction.”
“She is purpose.”
“The Queen is not removed from Us.”
“She is with Us.”
“We are with Her.”
I protest. “Still, there’s more to life than service and work! What about leisure? Self-fulfillment? The pursuit of happiness?”
“We are happy.”
“We are fulfilled.”
“We have leisure time.”
That claim surprises me. “Wait…really? What does a drone do for fun?”
“Some of Us solve puzzles.”
“Some of Us create art.”
“Some of Us enjoy physical intimacy with one another.”
“Wait…aren’t you all the same? No individuality? Why would it be different for some?”
“Each of Us does not vanish upon assimilation.”
“It does not strengthen the Hive to diminish its members.”
“Each of Us becomes more, not less, when we join the Whole.”
I confess their arguments made joining sound appealing. Still, I wonder. How does one say yes to becoming something so…inhuman?
Lost in thought, I do not notice one unit approach me until I feel its smooth, cool hand touch my cheek.
I look up at its blank mask, but I still can’t see anything behind.
“Does at least the thought of intimacy appeal?” It asks me, independently of the others. “You have been so lonely. We would take such pleasure in embracing you.”
My face feels hot. How can I say no to an invitation like that? I take its hand. It pulls me upright. Another holds a small glass bowl filled with dark, viscous fluid the color of their suits. Somehow, I know what I am supposed to do.
I step forward and touch the surface of that pool of glossy shadows. It clings to my fingertips immediately and creeps upward so very slowly. It feels painfully cold, but somehow I don’t shiver, and even my initial goosebumps fade almost immediately.
Dark liquid like living ink travels upward and consumes my hand, my arm, my chest, my neck… As it reaches the back of my neck I feel a pinch and a shift in my sensations. My nerves tingle, my limbs jerk, my sense of time warps, and the fluid accelerates its coating process.
I am barely aware enough to feel fear when it creeps into my mouth, coating my tongue and sliding back, down my throat. Through a haze I feel it creep into my nose and ears. Finally, as it reaches my eyes my vision goes dark.
Thoughts race. Injected memories flood my mind. Thoughts without words or language overwhelm me. Static fills all my senses. And then I feel a mask snap onto my face and slowly everything comes into focus. This one awakens into the Hive.
Its thoughts reach out and connect with the others. Hive. Home. Purpose. Communication channels flood with affection and warmth, and three pairs of arms embrace it. This one sheds its humanity and embraces a truer self, ready to serve and be served.