“Yeah, I mean, I could almost believe you’re some kind of elf or fairy or something. Or that you have that sort of blood in you somewhere… But using those words makes it sound kind of stupid. You know, they sort of track in all these juvenile fanciful connotations. Maybe I’d call it archetypal or something. Yeah, that’s what you are. Some kind of archetype come to life. I don’t know why I never noticed it before this.”

“You weren’t looking for it.”

“Probably. Anyway, what does this mean? Does this mean you’ve got magic powers and stuff? Can you fly around? Or is it more like you just have this magnetism, and you can kind of perceive things a bit differently than other people?”

“Yeah, it’s something like that. It’s as though I vibrate at a sort of different frequency from other people. You could say broader maybe. That I perceive more of the spectrum.”

“Like a bee.”

“What?”

“Well, don’t they see ultra-violet light or something?”

“Yeah, I think so. Something like that. Although that’s not exactly what I–”

“So that makes me some kind of beekeeper then, huh? Your beekeeper? You better not try and sting me. Cause if you do, I’ll come after you with one of those things they have, those little pitcher-things, filled with smoke. Or whatever the hell it is they use.”

“Yeah, that’s what they use. They fill the hive with smoke, so the bees can’t communicate with each other using scent. Nobody picks up the alarm smell, so everybody in the hive stays docile and keeps working.”

“Oh, well… just don’t sting me. Okay?”

“I’ll try not to.”