I’ll put it to you like this,
I’m like a brother to them. But I’m kept at arms length.
We’re not related, but we know each other well enough. We know each other like roommates. I live with the Beekeepers.
It’s difficult for me to explain my job. I manage the real world for them.
The boys come and go, but I never see them all together. They don’t like to be in one place at the same time. Actually, none of them like to be in public. Certain people are keeping tabs on them.
I forgot to introduce myself. I only have a few minutes.
I’m Seanhive. It’s not my full name, but it’s a title they gave me, and they prefer that I use it. I act as mediator for the Beekeepers. My relationship with them is spotty, but they pay me well. That’s me in the image above, trying on a new suit. That’s the phone they gave me to use, too.
The guys in white officially operate under the name Beekeepers Incorporated, but I don’t know which government their corporation reports to.
I don’t ask many questions. The last time I tried to ask about their boss, they disappeared for weeks. No texts, no calls, no Facebook pokes. Once I stopped asking questions, we became better friends.
Well, that’s not true, I did ask them for a picture once. They sent me this.
I’ve never understood their secrecy, but the work they do seems like a good thing.
At random intervals, they send me various media so I can send it to you. They’re strangely serious about what they encourage, like they have an agenda for how they want things to be. They don’t mind me talking about them. They want the public to investigate them. They just can’t tell you themselves.
In fact, I have to officially recommend that you don’t let them talk to you. The boys can be rather intimidating, and their voices are… uncustomary.
Check back and I’ll tell you more later.