Things That Worry Me Which Probably Shouldn't

I'm concerned that bee keepers aren't doing enough to prevent their hives from developing a rudimentary yet malevolent intelligence.
   I saw a bee truck just last night - it's the beginning of the SoCal pollinization season - rumbling along St. John Avenue. I was in the hot rod and I had the top down, so I thought that perhaps the bees might swarm out of all the hives on the truck, lift me into the air and crown me their king. Didn't happen. But I did get the impression that they were watching me with their beady little compound eyes, trying to decide what to do about the guy in the convertible.
   See, I'm not afraid of bees, they're nature's little factory workers, diligently slaving away in their hives just like our grandparents used to do for Ford and Chrysler. But in nature beehives are separated from one another, you don't find queen bees building hives on neighboring branches in trees. Beekeepers, though, have hundreds of colonies all stacked one on top of another, and you can't tell me those bees don't talk to each other. And just like the labor movement brought unionization to the American auto worker, eventually bees are going to get wise and figure out there are way more of them than there are of us.
   If those bees last night had been organized, if they were all working together, think of the trouble I would have been in. And then think if those bees had talked with other bees, and so on down the line. We might all end up slaves to our honeybee overlords.