The Bee Emissary Chapter 14

Twany arrived at my lab a few minutes early. She was so sweet, giving me a big hug that I desperately needed.

Chapter 14:

Twany arrived at my lab a few minutes early. She was so sweet, giving me a big hug that I desperately needed.

“Rob, you are doing okay?”

I wish the hug had lasted longer.

“Yeah, as well as expected.” My smile felt strained.

Turning to Twany as we left the building, I said, “I talked to Dr. Carlson about us submitting a grant. He had reservations about accepting money from the DOD, but decided it would advance our research and not create a weapon.”

Twany looked at me with her eyebrows bunched together. “Why would anyone worry about bees as weapons?”

I just shrugged, not wanting to dwell on Dr. Carlson’s past.

Twany smiled. “Dr. Bullion is also supportive.”

I cocked my head. “I guess it’s a go then.”

Twany walked quickly. I was used to a more leisurely pace.

She spoke, “Good, we can rely on both to co-sponsor the grant, since neither of us is a faculty member. I can handle the AI part of the grant. I made good progress on coding for the acoustic and video data.” She paused, then added, “I even did some test runs on data from the German group that developed the robot bee.”

“You mean the robot bee that did the waggle dance?”

“Right. Rob, after lunch, could you please show me around your lab and provide some details on the type of data you collect and how you collect it? Ultimately, we’ll upload the data into NACHASH, along with its treatment context.”

I loved it when Twany geeked out. “Oh, right. NACHASH is the name you gave to the AI. And, yeah, no problem. I’d be happy to give you a lab tour.”

I repeated, “NACHASH. What does it stand for?”

“It doesn’t stand for anything. It’s not an acronym.”

“What is it then?”

“It is a Hebrew word meaning serpent.”

I grinned. “Computer scientists are a strange lot.”

Twany’s expression turned to mock outrage, and she punched me lightly in the shoulder.

I chuckled.

The cafeteria in the old Student Union sat on the shoreline of Lake Mendota. There was a window seat, but not much of a view because of an overcast sky with wind blowing from the southwest. The lake looked unruly under the gray sky, even irritated with the relentless, choppy waves, which appeared colored in various shades of charcoal—an unwelcome reminder of Door County. The undulating water stole my focus, while the hum of conversations at other tables hypnotized me.

Only when Twany spoke my name, “Rob?” did I snap out of my revelry.

“Where’d you go?” Twany put down her glass of water and looked at me with concern.

I looked away, embarrassed that my inner life co-opted the moment. I finally turned back. All I managed to say was, “Sorry,”

“No worries.” Twany took the lead in our conversation. She grew up in Edmonton, Canada. “I am an only child, a computer geek from childhood, and a track and field star in high school and college. The University of British Columbia offered me a combined academic and athletic scholarship, a rare opportunity. My folks are retired. I send money home when I can.”

I told Twany about my mom, Grandma, and more about my grandpa. She wanted to see pictures. I showed her some on my phone, even a video Grandpa and I made about the bees. I must have looked sad.

She reached across the table and took my hand. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

I was unsure what okay meant, but I appreciated the gesture.

After lunch, I gave Twany a quick tour of the lab. She was particularly interested in how the apiaries worked. We walked through the main laboratory into the back hallway.

“Okay, of the three doors you see, the middle one is the most important. It’s the main apiary where we maintain the bee colony, housed in nine Langstroth boxes holding nine frames each: the frames support honeycombs for the storage of pollen and honey. They are also the birthing centers for bees. We give the bees a specially designed artificial liquid food of all-natural products.”

“Can we just walk in?”

My expression turned to alarm. “No, we maintain these rooms under sterile conditions. We can’t let bacteria, viruses, or fungi infect our bees. An infection could spell the end of our colonies or make interpreting experimental results impossible.”

Twany added, “Not unlike a computer virus.”

“See those white suits over there in plastic bags?”

Twany turned and nodded.

I continued. “As an added precaution, we put the sterile suits over our shoes and clothes to avoid contaminating the apiaries.”

“I bet you look dashing dressed in white,” Twany smirked, and I blushed.

“We refer to those garments as bunny suits. Some of us wear them to the big Halloween party on State Street.”

Twany tried to imitate Elmer Fudd, “Hopping to get carrots as your treat, you wascally wabbit?”

I retorted with a pained expression.

“Okay, let’s move on. When we have more time, I’ll take you into the apiaries. For now, I want to explain the entry process using some photos I have.” I wondered how much more biotech talk Twany could take.

“The filtered air inside the apiaries is under positive pressure, again to avoid contamination. Each entry is a double-door system. You enter through the outer door, close it behind you, and stand in the entryway. Sterile air purges and replaces the air in the entryway.” I pointed out where the lights were in the picture. “You’ll see a blue light come on. That is when you can open the inner door and enter the apiary.”

“Okay, Rob, and how about when you leave?” Twany looked antsy.

“It’s the same process in reverse.” Twany’s expression appeared blank. “It’ll make more sense when we do it.”

Apprehension appeared on Twany’s face. “How many bees are there in these rooms?”

“I would guess 50 or 60 thousand in the main apiary, give or take.”

“Have you ever worried about being stung or attacked?”

“Not really. If you move slowly and don’t bother the queen bees, then you are fine. We’ve all been trained and have had zero problems.”

Twany was still concerned.

“Hey, I’ll be there with you. There is no need to worry.”

Twany took a deep breath. “Sorry if I seem so anxious, but I got a lot of bee stings as a kid.”

“So, you’re concerned about a severe reaction if stung?”

“Pretty much.”

It was my turn to hold her hand. “In the unlikely event of you getting stung, we have EpiPens and can get you to the ER in minutes.” Twany looked relieved.

We went back to my lab desk. I showed her a picture of the interior of the main apiary. “You notice the two doors on each side of the apiary? They are also double doors, and each one leads to experimental apiaries. The smaller rooms are where we conduct our climate experiments.”

Twany looked thoughtful. “How do you administer the climate treatments?”

“Good question. We are using gases and can introduce the chemicals to be tested as a gas or aerosol.”

“And what happens to the bees exposed to chemicals when the experiment ends?”

“In that instance, we can’t return the bees to the main apiary and need to sacrifice them. We try not to.”

“Do you have pictures of the experimental apiaries? Is that where we’ll collect the video and acoustic data?” Twany appeared eager. “Can you provide me with the dimensions of the rooms? Oh, and the dimensions of the hive boxes, too.”

“Of course, but why?”

“We need to know that for camera and microphone placement. The cameras are auto focusing, but they have their limits. If a camera can lock on to a single bee, the microphone associated with the camera will also follow the bee’s location.”

Twany took a breath. “Tell me more about what will happen during an environmental experiment.”

“Well, we can adjust the environment in the experimental apiaries to mimic extremes. We already know how these changes affect the bees’ brain biochemistry and ultrastructure. Dr. Carlson recommended we repeat our environmental experiments to collect acoustic and video data. That way, we won’t have to sacrifice any bees except for the anatomical studies.”

Twany thought briefly, “Okay, so we need to get the cameras and microphones working?”

“Right, and let’s determine how we’ll handle all that data—um—just how much data are we discussing?”

“Expect petabytes of data.”

I couldn’t believe my computer illiteracy. “How much is a petabyte?”

“Oh.” Twany smiled. “Too much jargon, sorry. A petabyte is 1000 terabytes.”

“A terabyte is essentially one followed by 12 zeros. Right?” Twany nodded. “So, we are looking at a number followed by 15 zeros?”

“Correct.” Twany looked at my expression as the immensity of data collection sunk in.

I shook my head in amazement. “Why do we generate so much data?”

“The equipment I’ll bring from Dr. Bullion’s lab is the most sophisticated audio and video equipment available. An array of 100 miniature cameras, both inside and outside the hive box, capture video. The customized software used to run the equipment enables each camera to follow the behavior of each of 100 bees. The microphones are sensitive to the location of each of the 100 surveilled bees, allowing us to match movement with sound.”

“Okay, I get it now. Each experiment generates a mountain of data. Have you used this technology before?”

“Yes, multiple labs worldwide have used the camera and microphone systems. I asked Dr. Bullion about ordering additional equipment and the necessary hardware to upgrade your computer systems. Once everything is in place, I can add a direct link to NACHASH using fiber optics to transfer over 44 terabytes of data per second.”

I interrupted, “Will we store the petabytes of data on university servers?”

“Good question,” Twany realized I was catching on quickly. “Correct. We store the data on UW servers. Also, UW has three supercomputers that work in tandem. The first computer will process the data and transfer the results to NACHASH, installed on the second computer. NACHASH will send the output to the final computer for statistical analysis, giving 95% certainty about the meaning of the bee sounds and movements.”

“This sounds fantastic, but it’s making my head spin. I’m glad you’re doing all the heavy lifting.”

Twany flexed her impressive biceps. “Rob, let’s get together tomorrow and outline the details of our proposal. If possible, please bring electronic copies of Dr. Carlson’s grants, and I’ll bring some of Dr. Bullion’s current grants, too. I’m sure we can copy and paste sections about facilities and methods. We should be able to finish the grant by the end of January and even include some preliminary data using data from the German group.”

The writing process was efficient, using information from earlier grants. Twany handled the technical aspects, focusing on computer jargon, while I set up and tested equipment in the apiaries. Despite the challenge of a short timeline, we included preliminary data in the grant, demonstrating proof-of-concept for the outlined studies.

The hard work provided a necessary distraction during the Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year holidays.

Despite hoping for communication from my mom, there was none.

Twany became my best friend. We had lunch together regularly and even watched a couple of movies together. She provided a constant and a comforting presence in my life.

In the new year, the university authorities approved the completed Department of Defense grant, bringing relief and joy to Twany and me.

I continued to conceal my hope, even from Twany, that communicating with bees would reveal my grandpa’s fate. I didn’t share this desire for fear of being thought mad.