The bees, on those same squares, each one different... this one was President of the Mu City Glee Club, which reestablished itself in central Asia after the great Continent, of which Mu City was the capital city, tilted and sank... this one was Transportation Minister of the Republic of Pennsylvania... all silly, official titles, which serve to efface the fact that they, these bees, actually have no real identity at all. And just now, one of them is saying quite loudly to the others, in wiggle dance, that one day it is going to be this Jacob here, the one they are with and watching so closely, the dancing human jumping and falling out there on the sand.     That's when the bees arrived, riding on broken fragments of time.