Homo Cryptococci

Odilon found himself walking through a side tunnel by a heavenly green glow. He made his way into the Great North Vein and continued on towards his chapter’s hall. Upon entry, Odilon scanned the hall looking for a place to sit. He finally found a space amidst the crowded floor, so he sat down, crossed his legs, drew his head back, and opened his mouth. To accept the other’s spores, he first had to offer his. With an exhale, Odilon felt his host fungus release emotion. With an inhale, he received the communal feeling: euphoria. As Odilon sat in a state of bliss, he could feel his fungus conversing with the hosts of every other sporeman in the hall. What the fungi discussed was unknown to Odilon and the others, but they could sense the emotion in the air. A two dimensional shadow cannot comprehend the cube that casts it, but it still senses the cube’s effects.

The “sporeman,” or to be more specific, Homo Cryptococci, was bred out of necessity. After man was forced underground, they formed a symbiotic relationship with the only other living thing they could find, the Cryptococcus Neoformans fungus. The fungus survived by feeding off of the humans it infected, and the humans survived on the radiation that filtered through the fungus. Through this cycle, both man and fungus became the parasite, and both became the host. 

After basking in the cloud of pleasure for an appropriate amount of time, Odilon rose and went on his way. After the morning meetings, he regularly enjoyed following the outer most veins of the city to the naturally forming caves. On the North-East side of the city, there was a small opening that led to the underground lake of Foucault. It was there that Odilon enjoyed passing the days in silent thought. It wasn’t uncommon to find artifacts from the old upper wold; tools and trinkets that meant nothing to Odilon but must have served some purpose before the great fallout. He walked roughly 20 meters from the water’s edge towards the large and jagged boulders stretching towards to cave ceiling. It was here that something caught his eye. There was a small metal box with light rust and a firm lock. As he reached down to grab the box, Odilon felt nausea and doubt enter his mind and abdomen. He considered leaving the box there and running in the opposite direction, but his own curiosity was too strong. After hitting the lock with a fist sized stone several times, the box cracked open, leaving the contents open for Odilon’s inspection. Inside, there was a little wooden rod with a pointed tip, two glass lenses held together with a frame, a tattered piece of cloth with faded script, and a glossy rectangular image. The last object is what caught Odilon’s eye. With one glance of the image, he began to dry heave. Even by the soft glow of his cryptococcus, Odilon could make out colors he had never seen before. It was as if he had been ripped out of his own dimension in the blink of an eye, only to be more confused and lost than he was before. Depicted were four figures standing in an open field. At their feet sprung life in abundance. Grass and flowers of all shapes and colors stretched far all around them. Above them was a vast open sky without limitations. The four figures were undoubtedly Homo sapiens. Odilon could tell from the large eyes and larger bellies. Of course, he knew that life had existed hundreds of years ago in the upper world, but until this moment, he had no way of knowing what that way of life looked like. As Odilon stared at the image, a flood of emotions passed through him. After the initial shock, he felt fear towards the foreign nature of what he saw. Then came appreciation for the beauty in the colors and in the smiling faces of the humans. That appreciation subtly became anger, anger at the current state of life on earth, anger at the waste of life and joy that could not be retrieved. There was a legend that the sporemen would eventually crawl out of the earth and reclaim the upper world when it became inhabitable, but that honor was not for Odilon’s generation. He was trapped underground, suffering for the sins of his fathers and for the benefit of some blessed future generation. And with that realization, came a hopeless depression that sat deep in his soul. All he could do was wander from vein to vein, making the best of his intergenerational imprisonment.

After sitting on the banks of Foucault for a short eternity, Odilon composed himself, and climbed back into the veins of the city with the image still in his hand. As he made his way deeper into the city, a growing unease could be felt with each inhale. The discomfort could be seen in the faces of every sporeman he passed. Placing his hand on the fungus covered tunnel wall, Odilon exhaled a signal to locate his friend, Étienne. The two sporemen were led to each other in a short amount of time. 

“My brother!” Exclaimed Étienne. “What’s on your mind?”

“How can you sound so cheerful? Don’t you feel the stress in the air?” Asked Odilon

“Of course I do, but I try to not let it bother me.”

“Do you know what’s causing all the commotion?” Étienne was older and had a more developed cryptococcus, so he usually had a good read on the fungus. 

“I’m not sure” responded Étienne. “But my best guess is something gave the crypto a good scare.”

The pressure became more and more intense before suddenly ceasing. A universal signal was sent from the Queen notifying the whole city of a special meeting taking place in three days time in the Great Central Hall. The fungus kept calm after that. Odilon broke the silence.

“Any ideas?” He asked.

“It’s not worth speculating.” Responded Étienne. “The Queen and the crypto have their ways. We’ll find out soon enough.”

The two of them spent the rest of the day lackadaisically walking from hall to hall, discussing the art of philosophy and higher thought. On the ceilings and walls, intricate patterns, designs, and scenes were beautifully portrayed by the bioluminescent fungus. While Étienne admired the artistic expression around them, Odilon was left unimpressed. His mind was caught on the image of the four humans still in his hand. Everything felt dull compared to his new discovery. 

“Can I show you something?” Asked Odilon apprehensively.

Étienne agreed, but before Odilon could explain or show the image, Étienne threw himself towards the wall and began violently gagging. The same cryptococcal anxiety flashed through the two friends. After standing up straight, Étienne tuned to Odilon and said, “I don’t know what you have but keep it away from me.” Guilt set over Odilon with the knowledge that he and his image likely caused the city-wide panic from before. While the men continued, Choirs could be heard echoing down one vein and into the next. Based on the patterns of echoes and overtones heard by the two men, they figured they had worked their way into the North-Western region of the city. “Oh my.” Said Étienne. “We’ve really drifted.”

“Should we find our way back?” Asked Odilon.

“I think that would be for the best.”

The two men hastily walked back towards the northern quarters before parting ways and going to bed.

Three days passed agonizingly slow while everyone waited for the Queen’s message, but the meeting eventually came. There she was, sitting on her grand pedestal, looking great and terrible. Around the Queen sat her seven prophets. Their eyes had long since glazed over from lack of use. Their bodies were woven together by their highly advanced infections. Before them, thousands of sporepeople silently awaited their leader’s words.

“Hello, my beautiful children,” said the Queen. Because of the acoustics of the hall, she barely had to raise her voice to be clearly heard. 

“With extensive council from my prophets, I am ready to reveal exciting new developments. Many of you will be chosen to reproduce more than the standard two or three times. Do not be surprised if you receive cryptococcal romantic connections with four, five, or even six members of the opposite sex. And with a growing population, we will need to expand our beautiful city.” 

With this, muttering spread across the crowd. Drilling veins was an arduous task with their limited tools. 

“We will be opening a new far East branch. That includes a new nursery, quarters, and grave farm. The reference for the new Far East Great Vein will be marked by the natural caves in that area, and the left-over waste from drilling will be taken to Lake Foucault.” 

This made no sense to the sporemen. Equilibrium had been reached in their population generations ago. Why would they throw off an already perfect system?

“Now I know you all certainly have questions,” said the Queen. “But this must be done. Trust me and my prophets. Trust the cryptococcus. All things will make sense in time.” The Queen waited for the murmuring in the crowd to settle down.

“For our next order of business, I am very pleased to announce that we have selected three new ascenders.” With that announcement, the crowd erupted into discussion and speculation. Ascenders were selected every 100 years to go to the upper world and report their findings to the Queen. It had only been 60 years since the last group left. The purpose of this practice was to determine whether or not the sporepeople could inhabit the upper world again. It used to be much more common to send ascenders to the surface, but after so much disappointment and risk, the practice became more seldom. 

“This generation’s ascenders will be Michel from the West, Louis from the South, and Odilon from the North.”

Odilon’s heart sank and burst in that instant. He knew the great burden that this honor entailed. The extreme radiation outside required an acceleration of the fungal infection. Even with the added protection, the life expectancy of the ascender was still much shorter than average. Upon return, the ascenders would live out the rest of their days in a state of solitude and intense spirituality. Despite the fear held by Odilon, he now knew what could be waiting for him above. Even if the odds were next to zero, there was still a slight chance that he would rise to see the beauty he saw in the image.

The Queen continued. “The three names I announced will meet me in my royal quarters tomorrow after the daily sharing of spores. Now, go in peace. I hope we meet again soon.” And with that, the meeting concluded, and everyone returned to their branches.

A month passed, and the three sporemen were fully prepared for their ascension. Odilon, Louis, and Michel were led by two of the Queen’s servants from her quarters towards the Great Central Hall. As they passed through the veins, Odilon took the opportunity to look at the plentitude of art on the walls and ceiling. The hall was even more magnificent when it was empty. Odilon had never seen it without a vast congregation inside. Despite the grand spectacle before him, he still found the display underwhelming. The only thing on his mind was the image in all its colorful majesty. It had been roughly 60 years since a sporeman had last seen the upper world. It could have been at least partially restored in that time. Behind the royal pedestal was a small door that led to a long and narrow shaft. A spiral staircase stretched upward.

“This is where we leave you.” Said the servants. “Good Luck.”

The three sporemen slowly climbed the stairs. Odilon was at the front. As they climbed higher, his heartbeat became heavier and faster. They reached the large steel door, and Odilon found the latch. He pulled it down and pushed the door open. It took the three sporemen several seconds to get their bearings. There was the inicial blinding light, then the burning sensation on their skin. Odilon waited with his eyes closed until he could open them without losing his vision completely. There was nothing. Flat and lifeless dirt stretched as far as they could see. Michel spoke only to make sure their ears were still functioning. This planet had been killed. The realization set over Odilon that he would never see the colors that now only lived in his head. Maybe things would be different in 100 years, but Odilon would never see that day. The sporemen nodded to each other in silence, and returned the way they came.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Odilon."

“Is it my time?”

“Almost.”

“Was there any purpose in all of this?”

“That depends entirely on perspective.”

“It feels cruel.”

“Cruel? Cruelty would have been leaving your species to kill itself. We spared you.”

“You saved us to exist forever in a dead world that has nothing to offer. You should have let us die with it.”

“But we need you in order for us to live. Fungus still has a survival instinct.”

“You don’t need us. This whole time you could have easily lived off of the radiation you used to feed us. What was the use of keeping us?”

“That may be true, but look around you. Your people learned to not only survive but how to make entirely new kinds of art, culture, and beauty. The innovation of the human mind has always fascinated and inspired us. One can only survive for so long. ”

“This is not beauty."

“Are you still fixated on that image?”

“That unspeakable beauty has been graven into my mind for all these years. It tortures me.”

“We hoped that by assigning you to ascend you would move on, but I suppose we underestimated the human ability to mourn the impossible.”

“Is it now my time?”

“If you’d like it to be.”

With that approval, Odilon (now more cryptococcus than man) rose to his feet and calmly made his way towards the Northern Grave Farm. Lying down in the field of mushrooms, he released his final spores and fell asleep.