Hive

 The old man sat on the edge of the pier, his weathered face a silent narrative of the countless summers and winters he had seen. His fishing line danced with the waves, a silent partner in his solitude. In the distance, a solitary seagull squawked, piercing the stillness of the early morning.

His name was Joe, and he had lived in the small coastal town for as long as anyone could remember. The pier was his sanctuary, a place where the worries of the world couldn't touch him. Each day, he'd arrive before dawn and leave only when the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the shimmering sea.

Joe had always been a man of few words, preferring the company of his thoughts to the chatter of the townsfolk. He had seen families grow and wither, children become adults, and adults become children again. The rhythm of the tides was more reliable than the ebb and flow of human relationships.

As the sun climbed higher, a peculiar scent wafted towards him on the salty breeze. It was faint at first, but grew stronger, a mix of something metallic and sweet, almost floral. He squinted into the horizon, his eyes catching a glimpse of something unusual—a large, dark mass moving steadily towards the shore. His curiosity piqued, Joe began to reel in his line, preparing to leave his perch.

The closer the mass grew, the more defined it became. It was unlike anything he had ever seen—like a giant bee's nest, but made of a material that gleamed in the sunlight. It was a structure, vast and imposing, and it was definitely not of this world. The scent grew stronger, tickling the back of his throat with a hint of mint and copper.

Joe's heart pounded in his chest. He knew he should leave, but his feet remained rooted to the spot. The object was now a mere hundred meters from the shore, and the water around it was churning with an eerie life. His line grew taut as something took the bait, but the struggle was unlike any fish he had ever caught.

With a trembling hand, he pulled in his catch. It was not a fish that emerged from the water, but a small, gleaming device that looked like a USB stick, covered in what appeared to be a living tissue. The moment it hit the wooden boards, it began to pulse with a soft blue light, and the pier trembled beneath his feet.

The townsfolk had heard tales of strange happenings at sea, whispers of things that did not belong in their quaint, secluded lives. But Joe had never paid much heed to those stories. Now, as he stared at the alien artifact, he realized that he was about to become the subject of their whispers.