Dark economies suck at the forests and oceans like insatiable demons, and all the kids head to the desert ripped on empathogens to burn effigies.
I rolled out of my tent to watch the eclipse. All the ducks by the lake started squawking when the shadow of the Earth covered the last splinter of light from the moon.
These nights have shadows of some permanent virtuality, some a deep techno/neural mesmerism before the unknowable leap.
We’ve gotta ground this trip. I mean, it’s been a fun voyage into hyperreality and all — soaring stock markets, inflated GDPs, surging CO2 and cutesy cosplay. But transcendence starts in the dirt.
Forest soil is packed with mycelium, the root-like networks of which mushrooms are the fruiting body, sometimes composing a stunning 95 percent of its mass. The dirt ain’t so dumb. Mycologist Paul Stamets writes:
I see the mycelium as the Earth’s natural internet … the neurological network of nature. Interlacing mosaics of mycelium infuse habitats with information-sharing membranes. These membranes are aware, react to change and collectively have the long-term health of the host environment in mind.
Fungi breaks shit down into usable nutrients. We’ll need more wild-eyed architects, designers, poets and carpenters to follow suit and reclaim the trash, skeletal ghost cities, urban sprawl and slum decay.
I close my eyes and I see this huge totem pole. I can’t quite make out the faces carved there for the kudzu vine crawling up it. Maybe after all our memes have swirled their cataclysmic symphony we’ll have a green silence like this.