Being born a drone stings. It stings with a distasteful feeling. Having a destiny that is kindly rolled out for you on a red carpet of despair. At least I know where I'm going.

The life of a worker inst fulfilling. Slaving away so our future, your future, is secure.
We go out into the world fueled with danger, locking onto our destinations. We pollinate the mind and souls of those precious flowers. The beloved Queen is then presented with her nectar.
Several trips at time. Honestly, it is a beautiful thing. A never ending cycle. Something we call a life.

“Worker,” The drone asked “Do you enjoy your work?” “No.” I replied simply, staring into his crystallized eyes. “But is has to be done. This is the only thing I know. It is what I was born for. Why?”

Anxiously, the drone gave a solemn reply. “I would die for the life you lead. You view the world at a different perspective to myself. You're able to feel the pollen on your body; visit new places; work for a future. Your life is full of excitement and danger, and yet you don't like it. I am here. I am stuck at the bar. Everyday I do nothing. My life is and always will be...expendable.”

“Don't flatter yourself.” Was my response. “We are all expendable. I would much rather stay home than having to carry around this weight on my shoulders.”

It was a never ending cycle. Did I ask for this? No. I was assigned this life at birth. This is my duty. This is my reason for existence. You don't have a birth right. There are no King Bees. We each have our own strengths and weakness. Yet we are both the same. To serve the Queen.

...

We were all built to die.