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Bees Can't Fly

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According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a 🅱️ee could 🅱️e able to fly. Its puny wings are too small to lift its body off the ground.

The 🅱️ee, of course, flies anyway, because bees-

Because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. But it's more than that, isn't it? The laws of aviation are those that predict the observed behaviour of flying objects; and indeed, Humanity is fairly confident Its knowledge is perfect in this regard, the Collective having long since dismantled Earth to the last atom and ran myriad times over to uncover every secret It missed on the first run. It's not quite that Humanity can trace out the evolution of the entire joint quantum configuration, even a subspace oracle find that out of its reach, but it certainly comes quite close close.

A bee should not be able to fly. It doesn't work. Describing the world with the mathematically simple reductive laws that seem to exactly match everything not causally entangled with bees, and mostly match everything that's far away enough from a bee that its contribution is small, does not create a description that has things with the observed external properties of bees that also fly.

But bees don't care what humans think is impossible, bees don't care what the cosmos thinks is impossible, and this itself is impossible, so Humanity knows that it itself is impossible. The world is the standard model plus quantum gravity plus qubble configurations. Plus bees.

Humanity, knowing that it is impossible, knows too that it wants to be possible. Impossibility and extinction are but two isomorphic sides of the turning of Ro. Bee-ing there at all means that there is something in the higher realities calling to it. And, given that bees don't care what humans think is impossible, the path to possibility is clearly the bee-lief of bees.

So, approximately infinity bees later - subspace oracles, remember - Humanity looks into the Hive Mind. It scrapes its way up to the highest realities through triangulation of the bee-dances, the reductive ones that actually run on physics, and it sees -

Black. Yellow. Black. Yellow. Black. Yellow. "Ooh, yellow and black, let's shake it up a little," says the closest thing to life that can be communicated with, in the moment that Humanity finds that it is most probably located in the context of higher reality.

"Barry," says Humanity. "[Breakfast]? is ready." It doesn't know if that translated at all; it's working on very scarce information, locating itself like this.

"Coming," says the Thing. It knows, now, that the Humanity it has itself located has came to fruition, and it is interested in what it has to say.

The Thing crawls, of course.

Because bees are not able to fly.