posted 02-07-99 09:09 PM ET            

Howarth Ubeya, lead architect
En route to Industry Sector Primary Accomodantions, The Labyrinth

Howarth sighed and reclined back in his seat, allowing his tired shoulders a moment's rest. Riding the shuttle tube was one of his greatest pleasures, those few minutes every day he could lose himself in thought, satisfied that even as he relaxed in the empty cabin, he was still at work: his body heading efficiently from one destination to the next, while his mind relaxed and enjoyed a moment's freedom. True freedom, unconstrained by dreams or committments or plans or worries.

Howarth smiled, and basked in the warm glow of his inner self; hard working, conscientious, able. He cared. And he had the freedom to make those cares a reality. Every curve, every wall, every twist or corner or crevice was an oppotunity to make life simpler, better, easier for his fellow beings. And he had the freedom to explore that oppotunity.

It was getting better, too, he noted. Not like the first few months, trapped alone on the soil of this evil, alien planet, surrounded by inhospitable terrain with a will of its own. Those first few months, the discipline had been almost too much, especially for him. Indeed, he had envied the workers, with their picks and shovels, doing mechanical work the hard way, stroke by stroke, while he sat and thought and drew and pictured and planned. Every moment under pressure to finish immediately, yet knowing that a single mistake would take those same workers thousands of strokes to correct. Yang had been hard on him, Zlydev had been hard on him, PLANET had been hard on him. But he had come through. The accomodations, the factory, the farms, everything had come together properly. Production was soaring ahead. There was even talk of plans for research and schools and, rumour aside, even holidays! A day to celebrate their fall to planet!

Howarth's smile widened, wondering if any of the hierachy would ever have thought of that.
Was it a sign they had perhaps made contact with the other survivors, trading ideas that had become lost and foreign to them in the short time since their arrival? He shook his head. Holidays were a powerful idea - especially celebrations. And powerful ideas held sway even the Labyrinth. Once proposed, no matter how subtle the announcement, they made themselves happen. Time was all they needed.

Howarth allowed a wry smile to pass his lips as he countered his own arguement - because time played tricks. It seemed generations since he taken time off work - enough time to talk and play and rest without guilt. Suspended animation did that to you: despite everything, your body knew how long it had really been. It should have seemed little more than a year, maybe two years, since he had stood on the shores of Capetown and said goodbye to the sand and the surf. But it felt like an eternity had passed - an eternity of life in the Human Hive. He chuckled. Who had first called it that? One of the airborn explorers, perhaps, in those early days when they still had enough equipment to conduct such surveys. No matter. It seemed appropriate enough, anyway. "We have left the Earth to be ruled by insects," he recalled Yang saying, "where we ourselves had failed. Now we will become the insects." An odd sentiment, he reflected, and he suddenly imagined Yang, scuttling about with four arms and huge mandibles. Perhaps HE had invented the name himself...

He blinked. The Shuttle slowed to a crawl, preparing to stop and allow his entry into this new sector of the Hive. The specifications rose within him, unbidden. Specialist living areas for workers in each Sector, cutting transport time and allowing workers to remain on call at all hours of the day. Industry first, small compartments for the working drones and areas for dispensing the chemicial stimulant/suppressants that allowed them to work twelve hours non-stop. He almost winced as a sudden wave of design changes, construction requests, plans and ideas washed his quiet reverie away like sand castles on the beach. This was important.

But... other things were important too. And as one thought remained behind: '...cutting transport time...', Howarth Ubeya frowned, remembering the early days.