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Cassie O'Pia knows quite a lot about bees.
(The movies never get it right.)
Bees generally only swarm when their nest is being attacked, or a foreign invader has entered what they perceived to be their territory, and is therefore too close to the nest, both of which signify a major threat to the queen and colony.
Never has Cassie seen bees with tendencies to swarm quite like the bees in Green Needle Gulch.
Swarming is a defensive maneuver, again, only employed for protective measures. It's high energy, and draining for the individual bees. It's inefficient. A bee's time is better spent collecting nectar, making and storing honey, or caring for the queen, again, assuming nothing is threatening the nest. So bees swarm, sparingly. Only when they must, only as an act of aggression.
The same can not be said for the bees of Green Needle Gulch.
Cassie is learning that all too soon.
When she first arrives, Ford Cruller very vaguely mentions the bees, says they can be a problem on occasion, but that she might have some interest in working with them.
"It's been awhile since we had honey around here." Ford laughed, throwing his feet on his desk, crossing his arms with a hum. "Bob tried his hand at it once, you know, bee keeping, but apparently they thought he was too prickly."
Cassie shrugged at the time. Mostly, she'd been focused on settling in.
He hadn't informed her of just how persistent the little creatures were.
A single bee lands on her shoulder. It's ridden with a vast sense of curiosity. It wants to know why she's walking amongst the hives when there is so much space amongst the Gulch, elsewhere.
"I'm just walking to Compton's menagerie," Cassie replies aloud. "The only direct path there from Ford's Office is through your territory, but I promise I'll be on my way soon."
It's buzzing takes an excited turn.
You can hear us? Understand us?
"I can, yes." Cassie chuckles.
That, evidently, is news.
The bee buzzes appraisingly. Like you. It declares immediately.
Cassie happily strikes up a dialogue with the lone bee. Truthfully, the impulse comes as easily to her as breathing, like stretching out a sore muscle that's a little cramped from disuse. It's been awhile since she's been able to have a talk like this, and she relishes the opportunity. Perhaps she can learn a thing or two about the Gulch her new human companions wouldn't have been likely to spot.
Deceptive. Flower scent, but not a flower. The bee says with a slightly befuddled buzz of annoyance when Cassie asks about Bob.
Cassie laughs. "Aw, he seems nice. A little shy, but nice. I've nearly convinced him to sit down and have a cup of tea with me some time this week."
The bee gives a non-committal flutter of it's wings. It's unconvinced.
"You all should give him a chance."
Cassie knows what a grumbly bee sounds like.
"It's not as if it's on purpose." Cassie bursts into laughter, anyway.
"We can talk about anything you'd like." Cassie says, grinning.
The bees of Green Needle Gulch swarm as a means of communication. They swarm, always with a level of intellect only a hive mind such as theirs could achieve.
When Compton Boole asks for directions the bees cluster together to form an arrow pointing him in the right general vicinity. He notices Cassie, then smiles faintly, and waves. The bees reform into a waving hand in a bout of gentle mimicry.
She's shocked when the bees start following her.
"They like you." Lucy laughs, "No, they love you."
"I can't go anywhere without several following me."
"They adore you," She replies. "They just want your attention."
By the end of her second week, there is a constant cloud of about 30 bees trailing behind her at all times. They're a talkative bunch. Cassie responds when she can and otherwise tunes them out. She's been succeeding rather well at that.
Until she can't anymore.
She's hit it off pretty quickly with one Compton Boole, and has discussed with him on multiple occasions the prospects of joint beekeeping in Green Needle Gulch. Each time, he sounds incredibly enthused. Evidently, the bees themselves are even more excited by the concept.
Just as the word implies, the swarm is always swift, thunderously loud as hundreds of bees pour out of their hives to greet Cassie.
One bee becomes three, becomes six, thirteen, forty-eight.
All Cassie can hear is buzzing. There is buzzing, and–
–There are whispers, constant and layered and overlapping like a gaggle of excited children vying desperately for her attention. It's too much. Too loud.
The voice is soothing, gentle, beacon-like in Cassie's haze.
They're explaining something. It takes a moment for Cassie to realize the voice is telling her to breathe, as soon as she's able, slowly and deeply, to center herself.
She draws in a shaky breath.
"Good," she hears that same voice say, sounding miles away though there is a hand now resting on her own, as grounding as anything can be in the cacophony of buzzing surrounding her.
It's deafening. It needs to stop. Something of a pained noise falls from her mouth, and she throws both her hands against her ears, firmly shutting her eyes, blocking out all the stimuli she's able.
There's a pause, almost like hesitation, "I know it feels like you're drowning. I uh… can you tell me a couple things that you hear?"
Buzzing, little voices. So loud. Make it stop.
"Other than the buzzing? It's hard to hear past it, but try. I promise this will help."
Cassie hisses, but tries her best to follow the instructions given. At first, all she hears is buzzing, infinitely loud, pressing against the sides of her skull, a constant barrage that intermixes with and derails her own thoughts. But as she focuses as hard as she can, wading through the haze, she finally hears… "Breathing. And a… a heartbeat,"
It's her own.
She hears another, just as rapid.
There's a sigh, sort of disembodied but… closer.
"That's very good, Cassie. Very good. Now, can you please tell me what you see? In as great of detail as possible?"
Cassie takes in a few, shallow breaths. Her shoulders rise as she raises her head, slowly opening her eyes. She's surrounded by bees, swarming all around her. The buzzing is still so loud it's nearly unbearable. But if she focuses on the sound of her own heartbeat, the sound of her shallow breaths, it seems just the slightest bit quieter.
She squints, spying what she can in the distance, outside the agitated swarming of the Gulch's bees.
"I see pine trees… Most of them are rather, rather ancient. There's pinecones everywhere, and I see a squirrel, and there's little bits of gravel embedded in the trail." Her breathing deepens, somewhat. "There's also a… something shiny… purple maybe, half buried not too far from here."
"Psitanium, more than likely. Otto talks about it, from time to time. It's probably what has the bees so agitated." There's an appraising hum, barely heard above all the buzzing. Buzzing. Buzzing. Buzzing.
New member. Exciting–
Come see newest nest–!
–Big bee? Carries more pollen?
Talks to us—
She glances down to see Compton smiling at her.
"Tell me what you smell? Can you do that for me?"
"I smell honey… lots of honey."
"Do you know what kind?" He asks.
"Honeydew maybe?" She exhales a soft laugh. "I don't know, I'm not an expert on honey bouquet."
"Very close, but it's Aster. The scent is slightly more floral."
"Petrichor, too." She sniffs at the air. "Can bees fly in the rain?"
"Not without their yellow jackets," Compton replies happily.
"Pft… Yellow jackets?"
"Yes, not my greatest work, I'll admit. Oh, here's another, a better one." He's grinning fully now, wide and particularly enthused. "If there’s a bee in my hand, what’s in my eye?"
"What?"
"Beauty. Beauty is in the eye of the bee-holder."
It is funny, surely, witty and especially silly, but Cassie's nerves are also rather taut, rather raw, and so the first laugh slips out without her permission, loosed by the pressure, and before she knows it she's full on guffawing, wheezing, so much louder than the joke probably warranted. She clutches her sides, and just let's herself laugh, isn't even concerned when tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and it's nice.
It's nice to laugh like this, even half terrified, overwhelmed enough to crack.
"Goodness, I didn't realize I was so funny."
"I'm sorry…" She wipes at her eye, still faintly laughing.
"No, no, that's good. Very good."
The buzzing has lessened, quieted.
He turns toward the bees. "I think if I talk to them now, they should stop."
Compton presses his index and middle finger to his temple, brow furrowed in deep concentration. It takes a few seconds, but soon the swarm starts to dissipate, breaking apart, the bees meandering off in their own separate directions in little clusters.
"I'm not usually, uh, not usually this steady under pressure, I'm afraid." He admits –once it's all said and done, once they both have space and room to breathe– and he scratches the back of his neck, looking apologetic, "I'm not sure how much help I'll be next time."
Some part of Cassie rather wants to hug him. The rest of her, the part of her with her heart in her throat, clammy and shaking and still so drained, dreads the contact.
"Thank you." She says quietly, and of course she means it.
"This is a good place to get away to," Compton says, "It's quieter here."
Cassie sits cross-legged on the floor of the Greenhouse, Compton seated across from her. It's cool, the sunlight not nearly so hot and bright through blue tinted glass, and the shadows stretching across the concrete gives her something to focus on besides the way her heart had been relentlessly pounding all of just ten minutes prior. It's darker here, too, less of a strain on her eyes.
"We should be alone in here, for now. Bob said he would check-in later. I told him to give us a couple hours, at least."
"I would hate to get in his way…"
"We aren't, believe me." Compton brushes off the concern, "He's off with Otto."
Cassie wouldn't have marked those two as a likely pair. She raises an eyebrow. "I wonder what they're getting up to?"
"If it's anything like usual? Trouble, more than likely."
"Are you alright?" Compton asks.
Cassie stares into the teacup cradled in her hands. She takes a short sip, trying to focus on how warm the tea is, on her tongue, against her lips. Steam drifts and curls from the cup, and Cassie watches it spiral.
"A little shaken, is all." Cassie replies, finally.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Does talking about it help?" Compton asks.
"I'm not sure yet. Maybe… I think so?"
"I've never had that happen to me before. I'm usually great at siphoning these things off, when they get to be too much, compartmentalizing- you read Mindswarm."
"Why yes, I did."
"But now I… even the sunlight is too bright, and even the softest of noises are enough to set me off." She just felt, raw, raw and exposed, like someone peeled back her skin from her skull with a knife.
It's buzzing, her skin, buzzing and itching and– she fights back the urge to scratch her arms, to set in and dig deep. She takes another, long drawn out sip, instead.
"I think what we witnessed today was more or less a feedback loop. The bees seem to directly respond to and feed off of what you're feeling, so the more upset you became-"
"-The more agitated the bees would become."
Compton nods. "So on and so forth."
Cassie stares at her hands. "I feel fit to burst, you know. There's too much."
"I must say, I've felt that way before myself." He glances down and away, before standing up, noticing the way Cassie is shaking. "How about I fetch you a blanket? I have one stashed nearby."
"Thank you." Cassie smiles as best she's able. "And perhaps when you return, I can tell you a story… for your troubles."
"I'd like that."
"It's okay," Cassie tells the bees, her bees, a short while later. "You don't need to apologize. I know your intentions were good. I would still love to meet you all, just not all at once."
She learns how to compartmentalize better when it comes to the bees, learns how to segregate the voices to a corner of her mind, when need be, so they're less a screeching rumble and more a buzzing hum in the background of her thoughts.
It helps significantly.
"When I get overwhelmed, sometimes I explode, but um, not the way you think…"
It's a constant threat, he adds, so a Boole must always be aware of their surroundings.
This is why she knows she'll find him here, once she looks everywhere else. Lumberstack Diner is no less abandoned, no less grimy, with door handles that leave hands covered in dust, smeared windows, warped, stained tiled floors. The Diner is no less empty, besides for a figure, seated just in front of the syrup stained counter.
"Get out, please!" He yells.
Cassie pauses in the doorway, lingering with her hand on the doorframe, uncertain how to proceed.
"Boolie?"
"It's not safe in here," His voice crumples, cracks, as he speaks, a shaky exclamation shoved through clenched teeth. His shoulders hunch further down, and he pulls his knees closer to his chest. "Please just go, before you get hurt."
"What's going on?" She steps further into the building, slowly. "Maybe I can help?"
He has yet to turn back to face her. "Cassie, you don't understand. I'm dangerous."
Oh. It only takes Cassie a moment to realize this is one of those times Compton feels particularly overwhelmed, and as she takes in the downward press of his posture, that familiar desire to become as small as possible, she wonders how she hadn't noticed immediately. Compton hardly talks about the incident which led to his arrival in the Gulch, but he talks about it enough, and seems to have a great sense of shame tied to the event. So much of his daily life revolves around avoiding a repeat occasion.
Early on, he informs Cassie that it's tactile pressure which generally helps, besides getting away from all the noise.
She's certain it's not as good as the isolation chamber he and Otto had been talking about building for nearly a month now, but it would hopefully suffice. It had to. This has to be enough, had to be sufficient.
She places her chin atop his head, wraps her arms around his body, curls around him until he's completely surrounded by her embrace.
"Tell me, what do you hear?" Cassie asks, gently.
"Just… just you." He says, in a quiet, weak tone.
She holds on a little tighter. "Let's keep it that way."