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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
The Wasps
As Brightbug sat in his usual spot on his living room dungpile, it occurred to him that he was not particularly satisfied with life.
Residing in a cave with nothing but pale artificial lighting was not the problem, nor was sharing the tight space with seven other changelings. In fact, splitting utility costs for the Lovenet meant more for everyone to eat. Besides, there was considerable social stigma attached to living alone.
But Brightbug still felt dissatisfied. It was hard for him to find the words to express his own ideas to himself, but it was almost as if... as if the Lovenet wasn’t enough.
But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? For years, almost since his spawning, Brightbug had gotten his love exclusively from Fangbook, Flitter, and Gootube, and it had kept him alive and bug-eyed until now, so...
...What was the problem?
Brightbug turned to his best friend, Slugbug, who was lying beside him on the dungpile, chittering away on the Lovenet. Brightbug didn’t want to interrupt, but he felt this problem was urgent, and Slugbug was... well, he was right there.
“Hey, Slugbug...” Brightbug nudged his friend, snapping him out of his reverie. “How’s the love today?”
Slugbug yawned and rolled over onto his other side to face Brightbug. “It’s pretty good, dude. Two hundred and seventy-three likes on a post I made explaining why the Hivemind isn’t brainwashing. Thinking of making a video, so the ponies can see it.”
“Cool, cool...” Brightbug coughed. “So, um... I was just wondering. Do you, like... are you satisfied with the Lovenet?” His voice fell. “Because I was just thinking, maybe, you know just for me personally, I think I’d like to try and, you know, get love from other places. Real places,” he said. “Just, you know, for a change.”
Slugbug frowned. “I don’t understand,” he said. He opened his mouth to continue, but at that moment, the cave trapdoor swung open, and Brightbug’s six other roommates swarmed in, chattering and seating themselves around the dungpile.
Brightbug tried to slip away, but Slugbug stopped him. “Hey, you can’t go anywhere! We’ve got to talk about this,” he said, grabbing his friend and pulling him back down onto the dungpile. “Listen, everybug,” he called out, “I think Brightbug might be losing his Hivemind.”
The swarm's eyes snapped toward Brightbug, and he went on the defensive. “No, I'm not! I was just,” he glared at Slugbug, “just telling Slugbug here that I was thinking about—just daydreaming, really—you know, trying to get love from someplace other than the Lovenet.”
The silence was thicker than bug juice. “What nonsense,” muttered Humbug, the eldest of the swarm. “When I was your age, we didn’t have the Lovenet, and we had to do exactly that. And many of us died. Foraging for love is regressive; if everybug did it, the Hive would die out.”
The swarm nodded approval, and released their agreement pheromones. The thick, intoxicating mist swirled around the room. It made Brightbug’s mind fuzzy, and spread a feeling of unnatural calm throughout his body. He questioned his own thinking, slipped between submission and resistance, and in a flashing moment of delirium, saw a vision of his soul reflected in a cracked mirror.
Pillbug, a pharmacist, looked concerned. Buzzing over, she looked into Brightbug’s eyes and felt his spine. She spoke calmly and directly to him.
“Brightbug, do you trust me?”
Brightbug did trust her, of course. So he nodded.
“Brightbug, your thinking is not good right now. You have a sickness in your mind,” Pillbug said, enunciating each word clearly and slowly. She pulled a small flask of clear liquid out of her pocket. “This drink is called Essence of Lethe. It will help you think better,” she said. “I want you to drink it for me, okay?”
She handed Brightbug the flask.
“Will you drink it for me?”
Brightbug's mind was a fog. He couldn't remember why all this had started, and he couldn't focus on anything except the changeling in front of him and the smell of the pheromones. He only knew that he had a very deep sickness in his mind, a sickness unto death, and that the drink his friend was handing him was his only hope.
So he drank the flask.
And after a night of sleep and recovery, Brightbug was back to his bug-eyed self, chittering cheerfully away on the Lovenet while lying on the dungpile, and feeling extremely thankful for the help and guidance of his friends.
Residing in a cave with nothing but pale artificial lighting was not the problem, nor was sharing the tight space with seven other changelings. In fact, splitting utility costs for the Lovenet meant more for everyone to eat. Besides, there was considerable social stigma attached to living alone.
But Brightbug still felt dissatisfied. It was hard for him to find the words to express his own ideas to himself, but it was almost as if... as if the Lovenet wasn’t enough.
But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? For years, almost since his spawning, Brightbug had gotten his love exclusively from Fangbook, Flitter, and Gootube, and it had kept him alive and bug-eyed until now, so...
...What was the problem?
Brightbug turned to his best friend, Slugbug, who was lying beside him on the dungpile, chittering away on the Lovenet. Brightbug didn’t want to interrupt, but he felt this problem was urgent, and Slugbug was... well, he was right there.
“Hey, Slugbug...” Brightbug nudged his friend, snapping him out of his reverie. “How’s the love today?”
Slugbug yawned and rolled over onto his other side to face Brightbug. “It’s pretty good, dude. Two hundred and seventy-three likes on a post I made explaining why the Hivemind isn’t brainwashing. Thinking of making a video, so the ponies can see it.”
“Cool, cool...” Brightbug coughed. “So, um... I was just wondering. Do you, like... are you satisfied with the Lovenet?” His voice fell. “Because I was just thinking, maybe, you know just for me personally, I think I’d like to try and, you know, get love from other places. Real places,” he said. “Just, you know, for a change.”
Slugbug frowned. “I don’t understand,” he said. He opened his mouth to continue, but at that moment, the cave trapdoor swung open, and Brightbug’s six other roommates swarmed in, chattering and seating themselves around the dungpile.
Brightbug tried to slip away, but Slugbug stopped him. “Hey, you can’t go anywhere! We’ve got to talk about this,” he said, grabbing his friend and pulling him back down onto the dungpile. “Listen, everybug,” he called out, “I think Brightbug might be losing his Hivemind.”
The swarm's eyes snapped toward Brightbug, and he went on the defensive. “No, I'm not! I was just,” he glared at Slugbug, “just telling Slugbug here that I was thinking about—just daydreaming, really—you know, trying to get love from someplace other than the Lovenet.”
The silence was thicker than bug juice. “What nonsense,” muttered Humbug, the eldest of the swarm. “When I was your age, we didn’t have the Lovenet, and we had to do exactly that. And many of us died. Foraging for love is regressive; if everybug did it, the Hive would die out.”
The swarm nodded approval, and released their agreement pheromones. The thick, intoxicating mist swirled around the room. It made Brightbug’s mind fuzzy, and spread a feeling of unnatural calm throughout his body. He questioned his own thinking, slipped between submission and resistance, and in a flashing moment of delirium, saw a vision of his soul reflected in a cracked mirror.
Pillbug, a pharmacist, looked concerned. Buzzing over, she looked into Brightbug’s eyes and felt his spine. She spoke calmly and directly to him.
“Brightbug, do you trust me?”
Brightbug did trust her, of course. So he nodded.
“Brightbug, your thinking is not good right now. You have a sickness in your mind,” Pillbug said, enunciating each word clearly and slowly. She pulled a small flask of clear liquid out of her pocket. “This drink is called Essence of Lethe. It will help you think better,” she said. “I want you to drink it for me, okay?”
She handed Brightbug the flask.
“Will you drink it for me?”
Brightbug's mind was a fog. He couldn't remember why all this had started, and he couldn't focus on anything except the changeling in front of him and the smell of the pheromones. He only knew that he had a very deep sickness in his mind, a sickness unto death, and that the drink his friend was handing him was his only hope.
So he drank the flask.
And after a night of sleep and recovery, Brightbug was back to his bug-eyed self, chittering cheerfully away on the Lovenet while lying on the dungpile, and feeling extremely thankful for the help and guidance of his friends.