Weeks later, Beck visited Marjorie to brag about his progress. He told her he’d stopped wearing his bee suit, and she was miffed.
“Why would you do that? You might not be allergic, but that doesn’t mean the stings are beneficial.”
“I don’t get stung.”
“Oh, the hubris! Well, I’m not going to try to convince you. Experience will be your teacher. Who is stronger, Beck, you or Mother Nature?”
He shrugged this off and proved his theory. Even-tempered by nature, he calmed himself further before approaching the hives, meditating until he was in a sort of bee-trance. He moved slowly, and was careful to never crush or compromise a bee. The happy hum of their buzzing got inside him. It was a frequency he could physically sense, a light vibration all over the surface of his skin. Some days the
