The Bees. Laline Paull

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СКАЧАТЬ the nurses who were soon to leave would clean out a thousand of them, then a small army of sanitation workers would arrive to remove the waste and scrub the floors. Surreptitiously, Flora watched them. Though they never made eye contact or said a word, their vigorous energy was tangible and all the nurses were relieved when they left, none more so than Flora, ashamed of her own kin. Then the nurses would prepare the empty cribs in the newly cleaned area and the supervising sisters would say prayers of purification, before veiling the whole section with the shimmering scent of discretion, ready for the Royal Progress when the Queen laid her eggs.

      When the next sun bell sounded, the glorious fragrance of new life rose in the Nursery and a thousand new eggs lay pure and perfect in their cribs. Every bee in the Nursery joined in songs of praise for Immortal Mother’s fertility. It took three more sun bells for the eggs to hatch into larva babies, and then it was time to feed them Flow.

      Under strictly timed supervision from a senior sister, for the next three days Flora and other feeding nurses watched in amazement as the babies grew before their eyes. Their sweet scent rippled with changes in their bodies, and then came the stark moment when the supervising sisters piped a quick whistle to stop the feeding. No matter how hungry a baby might be, not a single drop more might be given, for it was time to wean them in the Category Two ward.

      To Flora, this was a highly desirable place to work. Through the big double doors that separated the two nursery wards, she had often glimpsed older nurses playing and singing with the bigger children, even cuddling them in their arms.

      Everything about the Ceremony of Transition was exciting to Flora, from the way the babies started wriggling and laughing in excitement at the delicious food smells coming from the double doors dividing the wards, to the first strains of the cheerful hymns sung by the nurses who came for them. With graceful curtsies to all in the Category One ward, even Flora, they scooped up the laughing babies and the doors closed soft behind them.

      With their fully risen fur, elegant limbs and narrow curtsies, these sophisticated Category Two kins of Violet, Primrose and Vetch won Flora’s particular admiration. Discreetly in the dim holy atmosphere of Category One, she practised her own curtsy to overcome her shameful splay – just in case Sister Sage should reappear and move her to Category Two.

      This was such a wonderful thought that Flora began including it in her prayers at Devotion. She forgot it each time the enchanting fragrance of the Queen’s Love rose up through the comb, but when the nurses changed again and her fur had still not risen, she gathered up her courage and sought out Sister Teasel.

      ‘You want to move?’ Sister Teasel stared at her in amazement. ‘From Category One, the holiest place in the hive and the closest you will ever come to Her Majesty? Why, She passes by us every day!’

      ‘But I have never seen—’

      Sister Teasel swiped Flora’s antennae with a sharp claw.

      ‘Impudent, ignorant girl! Do you think a flora, a sanitation worker, is ever likely to be in the true presence of Her Majesty? I knew it would come to this! I was against it from the start – why, pray, are you now so eager to move to Category Two?’

      ‘It looks so bright and happy there. And the nurses play with the children.’

      ‘Yes, and as a result they are riddled with frivolity and attachment. I cannot believe it – move away from the Queen? Please, tell me: do you fantasise you are a forager, able to survive beyond Holy Mother’s divine scent? For clearly it is not enough to be a nurse!’

      ‘It is, Sister – forgive me for asking—’

      But it was too late, for Sister Teasel’s agitation spread through the whole ward. The babies grew fractious, distracted nurses looked up from their feeding and Flow splashed against the cribs. Sister Teasel waved her arms at them.

      ‘Focus!’ She turned back to Flora. ‘Now you listen to me. We deliver one outcome here: identical care for identical brood. There is no improvising, no requesting a transfer, and, until you were forced upon us, no exception to the immaculate kin of our nurses.’

      ‘I know, Sister, I’m very grateful, it’s just that so many nurses have changed—’

      ‘What business is that of yours? Have you been trying to count?’ Sister Teasel came close to her. ‘717, have you been studying the rotas? Confess at once if you have, for it is a matter of hive security – what do you know about them?’ Her scent became fragmented with anxiety, and the babies began crying again.

      ‘Nothing, Sister! I just wanted to ask—’

      ‘There, that is the seed of it: you wanted!’ Sister Teasel groomed her antennae back from their trembling state, then glared at Flora again. ‘Desire is sin, Vanity is sin – it is all very well praying and splaying, 717 – and don’t think I haven’t seen you practising your ridiculous curtsy—’

      ‘Idleness is sin.’ Humiliated at her exposure, Flora continued the catechism. ‘Discord is sin, Greed is sin—’

      ‘And as for your appetite – as bad as a drone’s. No matter what the sainted Sage may think’ – and here Sister Teasel threw a quick glance around the ward – ‘you are typical of your kin. Greedy, ugly, obstinate things! Girls, what is our first commandment?’

      ‘Accept, Obey and Serve,’ chanted the eavesdropping nurses, staring at Flora.

      ‘Accept, Obey and Serve.’ Flora knelt before Sister Teasel. ‘A flora may not make Wax for she is impure, nor work with Propolis for she is clumsy, nor may she ever forage for she has no taste, but only may she clean, and all may command her labour.’

      ‘Exactly.’ Sister Teasel’s antennae twitched. ‘Yet here you are, feeding the Queen’s newborns. Summer is cold, floras speak: the world is upside down! Just be grateful for the honour, for it will soon be over. But I wish I knew when, for I have never seen the like of your Flow.’

      ‘What does it mean, for my knowledge to be wiped?’

      Sister Teasel’s expression softened. She sighed.

      ‘You will find out soon enough. Now, spare us both – ask no more questions.’

      * * *

      Flora returned to the main floor, her hope replaced with dread. She joined a group of nurses who stood waiting to hear which section next needed Flow, their mouths already brimming with the bright liquid. The chime sounded, and ahead of them a dark little sanitation worker ran to get out of their way. Walking at the back of the group, Flora saw her clearly, cowering with her pan and brush and holding her wings so that she would not touch a higher kin by accident. Their eyes met for a moment. The little worker grimaced in a smile. Flora looked away and hurried on.

      The next baby was big and hungry. She gazed down at its open mouth, always the trigger for the pulses in her cheeks to begin the feeding trance. Nothing came. The twisted friendly grimace of the sanitation worker stuck in her mind and Flora shook herself. She adjusted her position and concentrated.

      The baby yearned up towards her, open-mouthed. The pulses in her cheeks flickered, and a few drops of Flow seeped out. Flora shook her head so they fell onto the baby and it lapped them hungrily. It looked up and opened its mouth for more. She concentrated until the sides of her mouth were throbbing with the strain, but nothing came. The baby began to cry.

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