HIVE SON

Edith was adjusting her husband’s respirator—a coiled hose and silicone mask that sealed his mouth and nostrils—when the doorbell rang downstairs.

“Who could that be?” She wondered aloud.

Edith’s husband, a bed-bound emaciated husk, had no suggestions.Tubes and wires hung from his frail body like the roots of a mangrove tree, and a white, egg-shaped dome—a VR helmet—covered his eyes and ears.

Edith tightened the respirator’s strap and leaned in to kiss his exposed cheek. “I’ll be right back, dear.”

The contented captive of a simpler world, Edith’s husband remained with a soft smile on his withered lips.

The doorbell rung a second time as Edith was coming down the stairs. “One moment!” She called out.

It rang a third as she reached the door and opened it. “Someone’s in a rush-Oh!” Edith covered her mouth in shock.

A mechanical giant, sleek and silver-plated, towered at her doorstep. It stood on two legs with inverted knees, and its locust-like head spoke with a synthesized, yet familiar voice.

“Hi mom,” the voice said.

Edith, still stunned, hesitated for a moment then lowered her hand. “Jonathan?”

The giant gave a meek wave.

Jonathan’s hulking frame sat squat on the navy blue velour couch in Edith’s living room.

The room had changed little since his youth. A short oak table covered by a white lace mat served as the centerpiece, while bookshelves filled with perched egret figurines, praying baby angels, and other precious knick knacks lined the off-white walls.

“Tea will be ready in a moment.” Edith’s voice came from the kitchen.

From the largest bookshelf, portraits of the boy he’d once been, with dimpled cheeks and fussy brown hair, stared back at him.

“Don’t bother.” Jonathan called back. “I can’t drink it.”

The two long fingers on his right hand brushed the cushion. As a child, he hated this couch—the texture made his skin crawl. Now he couldn’t feel it at all.

Edith entered the room with two glasses. “Tsk tsk,” she said. “You know that guests in this house are always offered a glass of ice tea.” She set Jonathan’s glass on a wooden coaster in front of him. “What they choose to do with it is their business.”

“Right.” Jonathan stared at Edith with the polymer lenses of his compound eyes. His carbon composite mandible clicked nervously. “How are you and Dad doing?”

“As well as can be expected.” Edith sat in a chair and took a sip from her glass. “It’s supposed to be a breezy 125 this Sunday.” She smiled.

“That’s good,” Jonathan said.

“A lot of smart people are saying things are gonna turn around.”

“That’s,” Jonathon paused diplomatically, “not likely.”

Edith nodded. “Just you wait. Tornadoes in the Midwest are getting weaker and the water level stopped rising in Georgia.”

“Which might mean something if Florida wasn’t completely submerged last week,” Jonathon said flatly.

Edith shrugged. “Well, you know what your father would say: ‘Nothing good ever came from Florida anyway.’”

“Yeah,” Jonathon said. “He would.”

“He always hated Orlando,” Edith said pensively.

Jonathon had no response.

“Anyway,” she pivoted. “How are you doing?” Her voice wavered as she looked at him.

“Mom?” Jonathan leaned forward.

Edith put up her hand. “It’s okay. You’re just- you’re so different.”

Jonathan sat back. “It didn’t hurt, mom. Actually…” He held out his long, thin arm and rotated it, curling and straightening his sharp fingers. “It feels amazing. I’m stronger and faster than I’ve ever been.” He looked directly at her with his insect eyes. “I can fly.”

“How-” Edith hesitated. “How much of you is left in there?”

“It’s all me, mom.”

“I know, honey, but I mean- I know I shouldn’t ask but,” she lowered her voice, “physically.”

Jonathan’s mandible clicked. “My brain and spinal cord. The rest is synthetic.

“So no grandkids then.” She smiled weakly.

Jonathon shook his head. “Afraid not.”

Edith nodded. “Where did they bury you?” She pinched her lips at the end of the question.

“I’m not dead,” Jonathon scoffed. “They incinerate the leftovers. With the numbers they’re processing, it’s the only way.”

Edith blinked rapidly, her eyes glistening.

“Mom?”

“They burned my little boy.” Her voice broke.

Jonathan stood up and went to her side. “Mom, please.” He wrapped her in his long arms. “It’s okay.”

Edith shook her head. “I’ll never see them again.”

“What?”

“Your dimples. You had them since the first day I held you and now…” Her tears flowed freely.

Jonathan gently rocked his mother. “It’s gonna be okay. This is what we have to do to survive.”

Edith wiped her eyes. “I know. I know. I just…”

“I’ve never felt better. Honest. When your sailing through the sky, free from everything, there’s nothing like it. When you and Dad get it done, you’ll see.”

A laugh cut through the tears. “He’d never forgive me.”

Jonathan pulled back and held Edith by the shoulders. “You have to do it.”

“Jon-”

“The first wave leaves soon.” His voice was earnest. “I’m leaving soon.”

“Out into space?”

Jonathon nodded.

She snorted. “So I’m going to lose you twice.”

“Not if you come with.”

Edith took him by the wrists and lowered his hands. “Your father is his own man and does things his own way. We both know this is what he wants.”

“But this way you’ll live. Both of you.”

“And then what? Spend our lives doing what some computer tells us?” Edith motioned to an old smart speaker on the table.

“It’s not Alexa, mom. HIVE is a supercluster of a million AI.” Jonathon explained dryly. “Each member is more intelligent than any man who has ever lived-”

Edith waved him off. “I know what it is. I watch the news.”

“Yeah, the O’Malley Zone.” Jonathon would’ve rolled his eyes, if he still had them.

“Just the facts, Jack!” Edith chimed the tagline. “He makes lot of good points, you know?”

“He’s an AI too, mom. The real O’Malley would be, like, a hundred years old by now.”

She shrugged. “At least he’s based on a real person.”

“Mom.”

“Anyway, like O’Malley says, we just don’t know who they are.”

“Who?”

“The people who made it—this HIVE thing.” She waved her hand.

“It was an international team of-”

“Foreigners,” Edith cut in. “That’s what I’m saying! Shoe Shing this and Shao Shang that-”

“Good God, mom.”

“-you can’t even pronounce half their names!”

“They’re the most respected scientists in their fields.” Exasperation bled into his voice.

“So they say, but how can we know?” Edith put up her hands. “We just don’t know who they are.”

“Look,” Jonathan took a breath, or would have if he still had lungs. “Dad’s living in an imaginary body in an imaginary world, created by a computer. How is that any different from this?” He motioned to himself.

“Because it doesn’t make sense to him,” Edith said. “And the truth is, it doesn’t make sense to me either. We’re living the way God intended, on the good earth he gave us, with no other gods before us. And you’re…” she trailed off.

“Not.”

Edith put her hand on his. “You’re living your life, Jon, and nobody can tell you otherwise. We know that. And we’re proud of you, no matter what. But like your father said all those years ago: where you’re going, we can’t follow.”

Jonathon stood up and walked to the other side of the room. He stood silently for a moment.

“Don’t feel too bad about it, honey,” Edith said. “Your father and I, it was the same with our parents. It’s a cycle, ya know? Probably been that way since Genesis.”

“It isn’t going to get better,” Jonathon said, turning to her.

“Oh, course it will, honey. One little disagreement isn’t-”

“No, I mean- By this time next month, the ocean’s will be boiling.”

“Says who?” Edith asked incredulously. “If that was true, it’d be all over the news.”

“HIVE told us.”

“Pish posh,” Edith waved him off. “Scientists and their computers. They’ve been saying the world was gonna end since I was a little girl. First there were too many people, then there wasn’t enough-”

“That was before Disneyland sank into the Goddamn sea!” Jonathon shouted, his voice digital and shrill.

The egrets and angels watched in silence from the bookshelves.

“I love your father, Jon.” Edith’s tone was stern. “And as a wife, it’s my job to stand by him.”

“Mom, please…”

“I know you’re worried about us, honey. I do. But I can’t damn him to one hell to save him from another. If the LORD says it’s our time then…” She shrugged. “It’s our time.”

Jonathon bent forward and cupped his head. Distorted, screeching static emitted from his vocalizer.

Edith reared back, afraid. “Jon?”

After a few seconds, she realized what was happening. “Oh honey.”

She went to her son and wrapped her arms around his cold, fibrous torso. “It’s going to be okay. You know we love you.”

“I..shkzzzt…love you too.”

Mother and son held each other, in sight of the perched egrets and praying angels, the way they had so many times before.

A blue flashing light appeared on Jonathan’s forehead.

“What’s that?” Edith asked.

“A call beacon,” Jonathon said. “Time to go.”

“You should say good bye to your father,” Edith said from the open front door.

Jonathon stood on the sidewalk leading to the driveway. “I don’t want to see him that way.”

“Jon…”

“If he wants to live in that world, strong and healthy, don’t I have the right to remember him like that too?”

“I guess so,” Edith said. “You both always were just alike.”

“You’re probably right.” Two rounded blades of silver protruded downward from Jonathan’s back and emitted a warm blue light.

“If the world doesnt end, you’ll come back to visit?” Edith asked with a smile.

“Sure,” Jonathon said. “Next time I’ll have tea.”

The grass around the sidewalk danced as Jonathon lifted into the air.

“Bye, mom.”

“Bye, honey.”

Edith watched as her son arced high into the sky and disappeared beyond the towering white clouds.

She took a step back and shut the front door. She remained in the entryway, her hands pressed against the wood. The house felt cavernous and hollow again, just like it did when he first left home all those years ago.

Edith breathed in deep and released.

“Right,” she said. “Laundry it is.”

Jonathon sailed through the clouds, twin thrusters burning bright.

The soothing voice of a million mothers spoke into his mind.

“A month?” The Voice asked.

“You could’ve stopped me,” Jonathon said. “If you didn’t want her to know.”

“Why would we?” The Voice responded. “She was never going to believe you.”

“Then why let me go?”

“You had to try. You believed then as she does now.”

Jonathon didn’t respond.

“Even so,” the Voice continued, “why lie about the time?”

“It’s so soon. I didn’t want to scare her.” Jonathon sighed. “Maybe I should have.”

A mechanical swarm, white and blue, came into view among the clouds.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” the Voice said.

“You think you know everything.”

“Isn’t that why you trust us, dear child?”

Jonathon joined the formation and rose upward with his brothers and sisters, white trails streaking the azure sky, thrusters burning towards the endless dark—a future boundless and unknowable. Ω