C-O-M-Y
THE CARETAKING OUTPOST FOR THE MYCELIAL YOUNG
Audio made in collaboration with Brodie Marshall

Terran communities do not know much about what happened, only that over millennia, the remaining people of Earth had begun to co-evolve with the radiotrophic fungi of their age. They were those that dwelled in the discarded parts of the planet where radiation, the invisible product of both cosmic activity and human waste, had been highest in concentration. Rendering habitats ‘uninhabitable’, they were left unattended and abandoned. The communities of Terra were doubtful that the humans of the Merging Age had been aware of The Shift happening. They had been ignorant of the growing bonds between their bodies and the fungal symbionts that thrived in the neglected wastelands. Their knowledge of that time of merging was fragmented and generations had passed between then and now. What did remain was an understanding that caretaking had not come naturally to the affluent humans of the distant past. These concepts of prosperity had lost their meaning with time, becoming irrelevant to any Terrans now. Their significance had decayed as the flow of fungal kinship began to transform the fate of what was then called humanity…
    Xe were crouched, xyr thermosensor in hand as xe observed the mycelium before xem, thumbing the fleshy mass near the toe of xyr foot and mumbling to it gently with a smile. The room was foggy, damp and warm from the diffusers carefully placed around the grow chamber by another sentient at the Outpost. No doubt it was the Caretaker who had been there a few rotations before xem. They puffed a delicate sweet-scented, nutrient-dense vapor into the air, drawn out from the natural vents in the valley below.

     Blinking warm lights winked at xem whilst they worked, checking the young and tugging gently on loose cords whisnaked up through the rock above to the solar converters that had been placed on top of the cliff above. The tunnel smelled like the soil and substrate that moved under thinly wrapped feet as they got up to check on the hyphal masses that sat, scattered in a loose alternating zigzag along the left flank of the cave. Xyr shifting movements released scents from the disturbed earth, a smell familiar to the whole community, easily recognisable from their early years: woodchip, soil and grain from the valley below the cliffs.

    They called it COMY, short for the 'Caretaking Outpost for the Mycelial Young' in their unwritten language. The ceiling of COMY glistened with condensation that flicked onto the ground in a wet puddle as the entrance flaps rattled in the north winds, smattering xem with moisture as it did so. The droplets seeped into the brown leather-like fabric that sat on xyr shoulders. Gusts swept across the valley, the wind ripping down the rockface, ruffling through the dense, dark forests to the dry plains where the hot rivers ran like veins through the landscape that stretched towards the east until it disappeared. Muffled by the thick stone walls, the wind’s howls were fainter within the chamber, catching on the rocks like a murmur in the early hours after moonset.
   They were a sociable community, not adhering to the ideas of individuality that were once held in esteem by early humans. Concepts such as solitude were lost on them as time passed and knowledge of their fungal symbionts deepened and became more physically identifiable. But xe was fond of the quiet hours where xe could get their tending done before the other caregivers arrived. The only light that entered the outpost this early came from the overhead solar strips that cast a yellow haze inside the tunnel. Xe were not alone here, not really. Besides, xe did not need lights to know that the young ones were healthy. 

    A few young masses had begun to take shape already, growing at differing rates as usual. They expanded out of the wood chip floor curled up and rounded, soft and sponge-like in their early stages, but surprisingly robust. Their rough, brown colouring was prominent in their younger months and as they developed they became mottled, some veined with delicate clear white networks of mycelium. The eldest grew with ink-blue stains and rusty hues, these remaining younglings being fully established, dripping in the wet morning. Their solid velvety shapes oozed with clear guttation that would fall as they moved ever so slightly as respiration began. 

    The Whispering had started last week, a sound emitted from the young ones, reminiscent of the hot air that blew from the deep craters in the valley below. The town had gathered to visit the outpost in big groups rather than the usual caretaking shifts that took place every few rotations.
     They took turns to enter the growth chamber, those at the end of their life cycle pushing the entrance flaps aside, and leaving with expressions of contentment at the knowledge that the next of their kin were thriving within the outpost’s cave system. The young symbionts would enter with less poise, the boundless energy of children propelling them through the entrance and only calming when their hands and feet connected to the network inside. Many would smile as they began communicating gently with both voice and hyphae, deeply focused on the sensations of sounds, scents and temperatures emitted by the younglings, translated to the townsfolk as fuzzy, half formed noises and emotions that they could tap into.  

 
 
    It was one of a handful of ceremonial gatherings the community partook in, milestones in their partnered lives that were celebrated warmly. The species multiplicity within each of them was a precious thing and what enabled thriving after The Shift. Similarly, xe found immense joy in pushing xyr fingers into the soil, xyr own fingertips, covered in hyphal hairs, were able to give xem a feel for the vital signs in the forming beings that xyr community was looking after. Xyr expression was thoughtful as xe checked each mass. While at the outpost, xe often found xemself deep in thought, wondering about the early humans that had once walked the planet, those that had been lost since the Merging.

    The winds had settled after the gathering had spent some time sitting with each growing entity in the room. Xe took a deep breath, straightened up and moved  over to the window flap on the left side of the tubular room. Fresh air was important, and xe pulled open the round vent beside the window. The landscape below this high point of the nursery was vast and flat where the waters had receded long ago, replaced by ice that carved through the land and now with forest. Xyr eyes fell on the distant mountain range to the north that rose, staggeringly large, in the distance. As the sun started to touch the peaks, Xe turned xyr attention back to the grow room, eyes scanning over the warm, moist surfaces that had begun to brighten in the cool dawn.
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The Journal of Art & Ecology published by MA Art & Ecology, Goldsmiths, University of London

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