10K.

     "I'm so hungry, I'm thinking of eating my own shirt," Skip Dawson said. "You said you could help me? Help me find something to fucking eat."

     "Cranky. Cute," replied Claudia, the coin/computer in his pocket.

     "I've got a headache I'm so hungry. Got anything for a headache, Claudia?"

     "I think where we're going is right over this ridge."

     "That's great, because I haven't seen shit so far, or, I mean, that's all I've seen is shit. What, they've turned Earth into a garbage planet?"

     "I think that's pretty close to the truth."

     "You said right over this...oh."

​     Hrrm's Hive.

     And the first word that popped into Skip's head was, indeed, Beehive, only a beehive forty stories high and four times as broad. 

     Starships constantly landed and took off from a landing port on the roof.

​     Around Hrrm's Hive, acres of concrete extended to give land vehicles a place to park.

     A long, winding vehicle that reminded Skip of a subway stopped at one of Hrrm Hive's many entrances every ten minutes to load and unload a crowd of passengers. 

     "It's a restaurant?" Skip asked.

     "You could say that," Claudia replied.

     "A hotel of some kind?"

     "I doubt anyone comes here just to sleep."

     "Oh."

     "I'm sure there's something in there for you to eat, though."

     "Great, because...have I mentioned that I'm hungry?"

CONTINUE