The Bee Emissary Chapter 13

The morning after returning from Door County, I buried my grief and uncertainty by throwing myself into work; I read all the literature on bee communication, and then I called Twany.

Chapter 13:

The morning after returning from Door County, I buried my grief and uncertainty by throwing myself into work; I read all the literature on bee communication, and then I called Twany.

“Hi, Twany. It’s Rob.”

“Yeah, hey, where’ve you been? I haven’t seen or heard from you for weeks.”

I should have expected this conversation, but didn’t. “Yeah, well, I guess you heard about the fires in northeast Wisconsin.”

“Yeah?” Twany lingered on the word instead of asking me directly.

The grief emerged, and my voice cracked, but something was comforting and caring in Twany’s tone; it made me want to confide in her. “Well.” I took a deep breath.

Twany’s voice increased, clearly figuring out what I was going to say. “No, Rob, your grandfather?” Her voice sounded shaky.

I barely squeaked out, “I am afraid my grandpa is missing and presumed dead.”

“Rob! I’m so sorry. One of your lab mates said something bad happened, but added nothing else.” She hesitated. “You must be gutted.”

Gutted. I rolled the word over in my mind. That was precisely how I felt — hollowed out. “Yeah, it’s been rough. I just returned from Door County a week ago, after surveying the damage. There’s nothing left of my grandpa’s property, just ash and memories.”

Twany became quiet, as if she sensed my grief. We remained on the phones, not talking, for several minutes, until Twany broke the silence. “Maybe you can tell me more when we meet.” There was a pause. “If you feel up to it.”

I recalled the first summer with Grandpa after Grandma died, and how we bonded, sharing more of our lives that had hidden in silence all the years before. Twany’s sensitivity and compassion touched me. I had lost the most important people in my life. Perhaps she was my chance to fill the void. I spoke softly. “I think I would like that.” What I did not add was “I need this.”

Twany’s voice rose, as if relieved. “Good. Listen, Rob, can we meet for lunch tomorrow? We could go to a cafeteria on campus.”

“That sounds great.” I felt lighter after agreeing, and I added one other thing. “Twany, I want to discuss bee communication and writing a research proposal.”

“Really! That’s been on my mind, too. I’ll stop by your lab at 11:30, and we can walk to the cafeteria.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow.”

Consumed by science, I had little time for sad thoughts. We had only a few months to complete the research proposal. I downloaded all the forms needed from the DOD website and sorted through them.

Suddenly, my enthusiasm waned.

“Shit!” I need Dr. Carlson’s permission to pursue this project. I shook my head, expecting disappointment. I muttered, “He’s never going to agree to getting money from the military.”

Dr. Carlson had just returned to the lab from a faculty meeting. He appeared in a sour mood.

It needed to be done. I went to his office and knocked on the door.

“Yeah, Rob. Come on in. How are you doing?”

“Fine, thanks for asking. I’m still trying to get my feet on the ground.”

Dr. Carlson nodded with understanding. “Is there something that I can help with?”

I stammered a bit, hesitant to broach the subject, but then jumped right in.

“Twany and I have been talking.”

Dr. Carlson gave me a quizzical look.

“We want to write a grant to fund translating bee behavior into English using AI.”

He looked surprised, then pleased. “Nice. Where do you plan to submit?”

I took a deep breath, fearing his reaction. “We want to submit to the DOD. They have set aside money to fund this kind of research.”

Dr. Carlson joggled his head as if in disbelief, and his face lit up. “Rob, this is most timely. I left a faculty meeting where the department head complained that we needed more funding. Can you get me the details for the research?”

I expected this question and had worked up a rough outline of research goals and expected results. I added that Twany from Dr. Bullion’s lab would handle the AI part, while we provided video, acoustic, and possibly chemical and ultrastructural data on bees stressed by environmental changes.

Dr. Carlson leaned back in his chair, contemplating what I had shared. “So, this would be an interdisciplinary effort?”

I was concerned because he and Dr. Bullion were reportedly not on friendly terms.

I answered, “Yes.”

“Brilliant! Even better. I just spent two unproductive hours in a staff meeting discussing ways to increase funding through inter-lab collaborations. This idea couldn’t be timelier. I’ll call Buck today to see how he wants to proceed, since we’ll need to be de facto principal investigators. You know, PIs.”

I felt relieved. “That will be great. Thank you.”

“And you’ll submit the proposal to the DOD?”

I nodded.

“The Department of Defense? They’re interested in bee communication?”

I explained what Twany had told me about using bees on the battlefield. Dr. Carlson made a face.

“Huh. Go figure.” He frowned. “Well, it’s not a weapon of mass destruction, so you have my blessing.” Dr. Carlson stood and shook my hand. “Welcome to the big leagues, kid.” He smiled and gave me a pat on the back.

I felt myself light up. “Thank you. I’m meeting Twany for lunch tomorrow. We’ll start pulling together a proposal.”