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A Park Bench In Eternity

Bees are amazing creatures. Small and able, they gather food day by day for the good of the hive. They are not paid. They don’t even get to have sex. They just work until they die. Like an old Soviet proletariat vision. Some may say that bees are stupid. They don’t realize what they do. Just living machines pre programmed to work. But they don’t pay attention. Bees have a language. They can speak to each other and give news of new food sources miles away. They use the angle of the sun as a marker. Bees have magnetic crystals in their bellies. This makes them living compasses, and they never get lost. Bees can see into different light spectrums than us. We think flowers are beautiful, but what does it look like to a bee. He can appreciate that beauty far more than us. It must be beautiful to them since it is the giver of life. Without flowers and their pollen, the bees would die quickly. Flowers are their temples, and the bees worship there daily without further motivation. 
Spiders though. Spiders are an invasion. At that level, everything you meet is an insect. Roaches, caterpillars, beetles. All insects. Not the same kind, but still basically joined by a not too distant common relative. They eat each other and interact. Some even have mutualy beneficial economic relationships. But spiders are foreign. They are arachnids, not insects. They have eight legs and different lifestyles altogether. Some spiders are smart. They make traps for their food. “Let the stupid bugs come to me.” The Portia labiata spider even has spatial reasoning. It can remember the whole scene of attack and plan accordingly. This intelligence is unseen elsewhere in the miniature insect cosmos. It is a hunter and can stalk prey much larger than itself. This must have been what the first humans felt like. Stalking a mammoth and knowing that it could kill you at a whim. Yet, you have the smarts. You have fire and spear, and the beast doesn’t even know you are here. Until you stab the stone point right into it’s oversized and underused brain. 
I watched the tiny black and white spider build it’s web for an hour. Meticulously swinging back and forth with the breeze straining for footholds. Emerging geometric shapes in silk. It was like watching an artist at work. Slowly the web filled out. Now the cross-threads go in. Now, another reinforcement there. All the time oblivious to the huge being watching silently from his chair. It was a pleasant spring day, and I smelled the fragrant blossoms opening to the fresh sunlight. In the garden next to me, bees gathered thier food like tiny winged monks. Sacrificing their time for the benefit of the hive. At my feet, the black and white spider was perched in the center of her web. Now tired from her arduous task and hoping for recompense. Suddenly, like a tiny jet landing on a carrier at sea, a fuzzy shape struck the web. A yellow bee hung suspended by its wings in the sticky trap. The spider at once alert and feeling the struggle approached knowingly as if it knew the outcome. The bees further struggles only entangled it more and it grew still as if it had accepted its fate. Slowly, the dark spider crept towards her prey. She wrapped it up in more and more lies and half truths until it was just a bee shaped mass of web. Then true to her nature, she sunk her fangs in. I watched the caveman devour her monk, and was helpless to do anything. I could have broken the web or crushed the spider. I could have killed the bee instead of letting it struggle. But what would it matter? The day was still nice. My ice clinked in my glass and the blossoms still gave their scent to the wind. Huge and trapped in my foresight, I wondered about God. If the spider wins, is there any hope for us?

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