The Hive

You're lying in your cage when the sprinklers turn on. You used to jump at the cold, but that was a long time ago. The water stops. You open the door and crawl, dripping, out of your dog cage. The voice of the hive is in your ear. It demands that you assume the position. It is a good thing you're already on your hands and knees. You grovel from one corner to another with your head down and...