To Feed A Nation
Buttery beams of sunlight brushed leaves and sleeping buds gently bedecked in dew. Cottony pink clouds drifted lazily as the sky’s navy hue melted into cerulean. To a chorus of birdsong, the buds slowly unfurled, adding a riot of yellow, white, and orange to the emerald blanket of foliage. A soft hum arose from the tiered structure sitting in the abundant greenery. Dozens of small winged creatures left in a carefully choreographed stream, their tiny wings iridescent in the morning sunlight.
A smile grew slowly as he watched their dance, his aged skin deeply creasing as it did. Beside him, a little girl smiled up at him, her large brown eyes expectant. She was his granddaughter, but as he looked down at her, it was his little sister he saw.
“Come on,” a cheerful voice called, “we’re going to be late!” Groaning, he rose and hurried after the ball of enthusiastic energy that was his sister. Nerves were threatening to overwhelm him as he made his way to the car. It was a day that he had worked towards for years so he accepted the nervousness as expected. His sister’s boisterous behavior was also quite expected seeing as he’d grown up with her. The years had done little to temper her social exuberance and he had been grateful for it lately as it let him focus on the actual work instead of public relations.
The car arrived and they were led through the glitz and glam of the hotel. Lights flashed as cameras captured their entrance as they made their way to the auditorium. Inside, the murmur of conversation quickly hushed as they were announced onto the stage. Taking a deep breath, he followed his sister as she bounded up to the podium and enthusiastically greeted the crowd. He let her words drift in one ear and out the other as she reminded those present of the looming threat the decline of honeybees posed to humanity and thanked their financial backers.
He scanned the crowd and, while he could tell they were concerned about the bees, they were more interested in seeing where their money had gone. With a flourish of her pink dress, his sister drew the crowds’ attention to him, forcing him to approach the podium.
“The technology is much like you’re familiar with,” he assured them. “They work like the drones you’ve seen do displays at the Space Needle on New Year’s Eve, programmed to do a set of actions and monitored by remote handlers, but in a far more compact form.” He felt the screen behind him light up to display a closeup look at his creation.
“Each RB is equipped with gps alongside numerous cameras to act as eyes. Collection swabs on their legs collect and distribute pollen without harming the flower. Solar panels assist in extending battery life while the RB is away from the hive. Inside the hive, they use wireless inductive charging similar to your cellphones.” He watched heads nod along, pleased they were following his speech. His sister had been the one to advise him that connecting the technology used to things people were familiar with in their day to day lives would help prevent the glazed disconnect he had noticed many of his fellow scientists got when presenting their work.
“Like their organic counterparts,” he continued, “a single hive of RBs can pollinate over 4,000 acres. Each hive has multiple handlers to best coordinate pollination in a quadrant grid pattern. Unlike the honeybee, an RB is impervious to pesticides and isn’t at risk of predation or habitat loss. Its parts are easily replaceable in case of damage and most components can be manufactured quickly using a 3d printer.” An approving murmur came from the crowd and he felt his lips turn upward at the corners. Low maintenance costs were a key point he knew had swayed many donors towards contributing funds. He let the smile grow as he reached the end of his speech.
“But most here already know all that,” he concluded, “so let’s get to seeing the RBs firsthand.” A hive was wheeled out at the back of the auditorium and began to hum. Dozens of tiny drones, their wings flashing in the spotlights, poured out and hovered a few feet above the crowd. His sister stepped up to the podium as the crowd gawked at the RBs.
“Each of you was given a flower upon entry,” she reminded them, “hold it out before you and an RB will give you an up close demonstration on how it collects pollen. Remember, these do not have stingers or mandibles, they can’t hurt you anymore than a butterfly could.” He watched as each person retrieved their flower and held it out. As directed, each RB went and collected the pollen. The crowd’s fascination was palpable and the applause once the RBs returned to their hive were thunderous. He sighed, eyes closing in relief. When they opened again, he was once more staring at his granddaughter.
“So that’s how you saved the bees?” He nodded. It hadn’t been a quick rescue, but thanks to no longer needing honeybees to pollinate crops their numbers had slowly recovered.
“That’s how I saved the bees and fed a nation.”
The End
For those new to my substack, welcome! I hope you enjoyed my son’s robo-bees (RBs) as much as I enjoyed writing them into literary existence. I appreciate constructive critique on my stories so feel free to share your thoughts in the comments. Just keep it civil. If you’re interested in reading more of my stories, check out my story index below.
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For those of you who were expecting a new chapter of Shadows & Secrets, I apologize for the tangent, hopefully it was an enjoyable one. I will have part 11 ready for you September 22nd, barring any school-related chaos.
Thank you, that's a lovely vignette. I do have a question though... I don't feel it is clear how no longer being needed to pollinate crops saved the bee population itself.
I absolutely love this! What an innovative way to use technology!!!!