In this project, as a continuation of the imaginative work Small World, I picture myself traveling in a world where humans are the size of ants. And as a traveler, I record the culture, and people’s way of living in this fantasy world. In this case, I am traveling to a Bee hive, where a village have tamed the bees, and the hive have turned into a vertical village. Although fantasical, I attempted my best at researching and giving an factual touch to the journal. (Full text seen below)
Day 36
The bee’s hive looms over me, a vertical town by itself. The buzzing grows louder as I approach. After the twisting stairs, I reach the deck. I keep my head low so as not to be hit by the clumsy flyers when they land by crashing their body towards the deck. The air officer spots me and calls me to enter a chamber on the side of the nest.
Through a more flight of stairs, we reached an observation tower. Infront of me is a bright circular sunroom, the windows made with cicada wings, to allow all the sunlight to come through. In the center of the room is a sun dial sitting above a circular map. He peaked at the entrance deck below through the windows. Another beekeeper stood there, waving signal flags. The air officer approaches the map, rotating it to align with the sun’s shadow. Then he marked it down on the map. The bees vibrate their wings and craw in shapes of 8, to communicate their findings on their foraging. The signal from the bee is transcribed by the deck crew, who signals it to the air officer via flags then mapped on this sandbox, slowly creating a detailed map of a few miles in radius.
The workers work tirelessly like bees on the deck, mites are a big threat to the bees, so each of the bees landing is thoroughly checked. On one side, a crew loads a bumble bee full of supply, while feeding it honey. Though seemingly clumsy, they can carry more weight than a regular bee, up to three quarters of their body weight.
The air officer told me that bees will be flying to an outpost for a routine resupply, and it is closer to the edge of the forest. Therefore, I could hitch a ride. Before hoping onto the bee, the officer handed me a chilled bottle filled with a soft, golden paste.
“My personal gift to the leader of the Forrest village, for they protect us from the raiding of ants.” As he stuffs the bottle into a pouch coated with down feather, “this is a bottle of royal jelly, keep it cool and may the sun guide you to your destiny.” The pilot mounts a pair of blinders around the bumble bees compound eyes, and the crew clears the bee for takeoff.
The flag bearer now performs a ritual that guides the bee to its destination. Instead of the flags, he is holding a tuning fork, he strikes the fork and circles around the bee at a calculated pace. The bee seems to understand the instruction, the wings roar as it takes off. Slowly but surely, the hive disappears behind us.