Aminita Muscaria by H. Krisp

To all my Teachers…too many to name,and to many who have no names,with Deepest Gratitude and Aloha.

“It is not what the fisherman takes from the sea, It is what the sea puts in his net”

– Hawaiian proverb from “Olelo No’eau” by Mary Kawena Pukui

It floated into the perimeter of the Oort cloud past the outer edges of our solar system. While its nano-solar sails were tacking towards our sun for a few years, it was always listening, sampling, analyzing and selecting its target.

Well before it reached the outer edges of Earth’s atmosphere, it had determined that this was the correct planet for its mission. It surveyed most of Earth as it circled the globe several times while gently floating down through the miles of earth’s thickening atmosphere. When it finally came to rest, it was about 25 feet from the southeast corner of the Wal-mart in Kahalui, Maui. Unlike the “usual” UFO’s, no one saw it land.

No one could possibly have seen it land unless one happened to look about an inch from the end of one particular white stripe on the parking lot, on a piece of dry coconut leaf on the baking asphalt under the tropical sun with a good microscope.

It was very, very small.

Even if you could see it in detail you still wouldn’t grasp its potential, as it was quite different from any of the other tons of dust-sized particles that land on Earth each day.

It was exceedingly intelligent.

By the time this one arrived here, its creators and their galaxy had long ceased to exist. Everything finally sucked into the central black hole.


They’d had to go somewhere. You’d do the same if your galaxy were collapsing. And as an ancient species of hyper-intelligent beings they didn’t go just anywhere, they went everywhere. More chances of success that way. Billions of years of evolution had taught them well. They made a few quadrillion copies, all tough enough to withstand hard radiation, durable enough to last eons and small enough to be propelled by light pressure from the stars. Many of them would be sucked into stars, to burn up. But not all.

From the gunk under your toenails to the pretty red and white spotted Amanitas eaten by Siberian shamans, all spores, once they found a suitable medium for growth, rhen they would form mycelium which then fruited mushrooms.

The many kind, compassionate fungal species presently living on Earth had landed 400 million years ago, then co-evolved with humans to be their food, medicine and for some, entheogenic guides to the innerverse. Sadly for these wisdom teachers, and sadder for humanity, almost all 21st century governments refused to allow such “irrational” thinking.

No power on earth wants free thinking; that might lead to truly free people with free thoughts instead of parroting mass media lies. Remember the 1960?s?

Challenging the power base of the variety of religio-dictatorial-socialist-communistic-republican-quasi-democratic-corporatocracies running things was not good for your health.. If you don’t think so, try shouting “Hi Jack” to a friend in any airport these days..or at Disneyland, for that matter.

Unlike most other new arrivals on Maui, it was not headed for the hotel or the nearest beach. Most of the malahini in the parking lot were here to stock up on liquor, junk food, suntan lotion and plastic beach toys for their kids.

Things like Alan Hasegawa possessed, and he was headed this way in a while. Alan wasn’t in any particular hurry as he moved through the hordes of discount shoppers visiting Maui from all over the planet. It took Alan a long time to get out of Wal-Mart that day. Being of Hawaiian-Japanese-Tahitian-Samoan-ancestry, he was related to a lot of locals, employees and shoppers alike.

On Maui, like many places on the planet these days, you could get pretty much everything you need at Wal-mart or the Home Depot across the street.

Wandering the aisles that day, he stopped often to talk story with friends and relatives while filling his super size basket with local staples: rice, nori and Spam,™

On Maui, like most places on the planet these days, you could get pretty much anything you need at Wal-mart or at the Lowes across the street, his previous stop for propane and construction materials.

Alan checked out and wound his way through the parking lot, stepping on a piece of dried coconut leaf.

It was a microscopic crack in that rubber slipper that enabled the specialzed spore to lodge itself right next to a comparatively mountain-sized piece of Maui red mud, tunnel through that through the rubba slippah, then into Alan’s calloused foot, quickly taking a free ride through the bloodstream to his nervous system, all the while leaving a filament of mycelium trail. It would soon know everything about Alan. From the inside.

And now it was ready to begin, and it had transport to a remote location with a knowledgeable, talented human assistant.

It would also soon know about just about everything about anyone important who was participating in the wired world was doing these days. In time it would download, digest and file the entire internet, all updated by the nanosecond. Every encrypted archive it could crack, which was all of them.

Think Cambridge Analytica on steroids after a billion years of quantum computing. Lucky for the mycelium, Alan had a satellite internet connection with an unlimited data plan.

The Hawaiian Islands, smack dab in the center of the largest body of water on the planet were a rich resource. Teeming with DNA-based organisms from viral to whale, bacteria to imported mongoose. Plenty of lava was also available for mineral extraction.

With transportation available by jet aircraft carrying 40,000 tourists a month from Kahalui Airport to everywhere on Earth. Not to mention the cargo vessels and yachts.

Sixty miles of winding road driving awaited him, possessing over 50 one- lane bridges. Thousands of shiny clean tourist rental cars were headed back the other way, to the hotels, making pile-ups at all of the bridges while wearing their “I survived the road to Hana” t-shirts. Most of these people had never seen a one-lane bridge and didnʻt get the etiquette. It was slow going, hours before he?d get home.

Time for the mycelium to grow.

By the time he reached Nahiku road, he was starting to feel a slight shift in his consciousness. It wasn’t driving fatigue, or frustration with the oncoming bad drivers, it felt as if he were being watched from the inside.

A presence.

Being a meditator and a big wave surfer probably contributed to his calm fearlessness as he formed a question in his mind. He was also “the most curious person I’ve ever met”, according to one of his loves from another island far to the east.

“Aloha whoever you are.” he asked out loud. Words have power in Polynesian cultures, as in most. Having been raised that way and being true to his kupunaʻs advice of Ku makaau a’ole (stay fearless), he was a brave and self-trusting soul.

The mycelium grokked this, and was pleased. And silent. It had endured eons of patient waiting, a few hours more seemed nano-miniscule. It withdrew its presence from Alan?s mind very slowly, so that by the time he stopped at Nahiku Marketplace for his usual fish taco, the feeling was no longer there.

He hadn’t forgotten, but had filed it away for future contemplation when he could give it more focused attention. He was hungry and still had an hour of winding road and a mile long dirt driveway, the rains were growing heavier, as were his eyelids.

The fish taco Linda made for him was excellent as he sat out of the rain in Jen?s My Thai restaurant with a side of baked breadfruit and a Thai ice tea, talking with locals and Jen, A Thai by birth, who had married a local haole. Their daughters went to the Hana Elementary school where Alan?s wife taught.

He talked story with the coconut weaver a bit, and received a free roseheart of coconut leaf to give his wife and a couple fish on coconut bone poles for his kids and cats to play with.

Alan was the Science teacher just a few miles more down the road, at Hana High, and had met his wife at Harvard, after graduating with honors from Punahou in Oahu.

People always asked if he was classmates with Barack Obama. His stock answer, “no, but my tita was”, satisfied most local inquisitors, with tourists getting a confused look on their faces, probably thinking he was talking about his tits. Actually, he had seen the teen-aged Obama on the sidewalk near the school a few times. Popolos stood out back then, and even fewer made it to Punahou from any ethnic background. Obama stood out even more. He had plenty charisma, even then.

He backed out of the “illegally zoned strip mall” as the Maui News described it. The owner, Skippy ,had a cousin who was a judge, so Maui County prosecution on that issue ended up in the circular file. Nothing like being born into the “Good old boys” club

Alan backed onto the now quiet Hana highway and headed east through town, passing the Hana Hotel, Hasegawa store and Oprahs? spread into Kipahulu district, past the Attitude Cafe, and then, just after Woody Harrelsonʻs concrete driveway, he took a right up the quarter mile long, deeply rutted blue rocked dirt road leading to his family land. He checked out their banana patch and the ancient kukui grove. Each avocado tree bore five different kinds now that they?d been grafted by Jianti, Woody?s groundskeeper. Plenty breadfruit, mango, starfruit, Surinam cherries, tangelos, ka’u oranges, kumquats and a large vegetable garden supplied what Walmart never could.

Freshness and quality. Their case prices on SPAM™ and toilet paper were unbeatable this month, as they?d probably shipped in a super-tanker full to get more politically correct shoppers who had defected to Costco.

Parking his Toyota truck next to their 40” diameter yurt, He climbed out to hug his two children, Koa and Melia, ages 6 and 9. His wife Pua, whose family was from Kaua’i, descended the stairs, grateful he?d made the long trip, opened the tail gate, pulled out the cooler full of ice and started rummaging through it, quickly finding the pints of Ben & Jerry?s ice cream she?d put on the list.

“Who screams what?” she voiced. “We all scream for ice cream” was the reply given by Alan the kids, and they all went inside to enjoy the Vermont treat, everyone grabbing a cooler or a grocery bag, unloading the bed of the truck wiki-wiki.

The mycelium made a note to preserve whatever animals and process this stuff came from, as it was the first ice cream it had ever tasted anywhere in the Universe, and it was delicious.

Alan started the fire in the small wood-fired super-insulated refrigerator-freezer he?d built a la Mosquito Coast, loaded all but one the perishable pints and other frozen food into it, then grabbed a spoon and sat down with the family to enjoy. As Pua said, “Life is short, eat dessert first”. The mycelium traveled via spoon and ice cream to the rest of the family.

Living off-grid was a lot more work, which satisfied the ecological hearts of Alan and Pua, but maintaining refrigeration was a power intensive activity, which taxed their solar-wind generated battery bank. The imported heirloom organic tomatoes they all loved he?d picked up at Mana foods in Pa’ia would be added to the salad with dinner a bit later.

Alan woke, a bit earlier than the dawn, roasted and ground some Kipuhulu coffee beans, brewed a pot in the french press, poured a cup and headed to the outhouse, where the composting toilet awaited something no privy on earth had ever had before.

Meanwhile, the Hasegawa family was moving on with their day, checking the window and their Weather Underground Apps for a crowd-sourced road report. No rain in the forecast so they had time to eat a nice fruit breakfast, then load up the Prius for the hour-long drive to Hana Elementary School by red sand beach in town, where Pua and the kids parted ways to their respective classrooms and Alan continued the drive to Hana High, arriving minutes before his first robotics class.

His kids were working on a solar powered, creeping robot which used machine learning, sophisticated video cameras and robot arms all running Linux on raspberry pis under the solar panel. The goal was to set them loose in Hawaii’s pineapple and sugar cane fields to crawl around, find, and extract and bag the tons of black plastic ground cover and partially burnt black drip lines left laying in the fields now being sold to developers by the failing Ag conglomerates. Turtles were dying and the pacific garbage patch was being fed daily as pieces tore off and blew or floated down to the sea.

Besides, the malahini mega-home buyers of the new subdivisions would not approve of chunks of melted drip line and sheets of black polyethylene in their organic gardens-to-be. And the Big Ag boys would save millions in EPA fines. The Green P.R. also raised their social media approval, thus stock prices, so they were happy to fund Alan?s project with a multi-million dollar grant.

Back in Kipahulu, the myceliumʻs nanobots had finished the many antennae and the circuitry to get multiple direct satellite feeds and up/downlinks. Alanʻs tiny satellite dish, though it served the family?s purposes, usually could barely cut through the off-times-present rain clouds to feed off of one satellite. Billion year old technology again triumphed, amplified and modified the signal, connecting to every satellite as they passed this side of the planet, and by networking them, most of the others as well. It soon knew more about us than we ever would. Cambridge Analytica would be way jealous.

It gleaned the best work of every human civilization and of course found it primitive. All extant work of DaVinci, Newton, Einstein, Beethoven, Bucky Fuller, every stroke of the Jinn in human history was recorded, absorbed and evaluated. As well as the billions music and video files, rants on social media and military archives and current streams. The mycelium enjoyed this process immensely. It was mostly old hat to this hive mind. Quite interesting, these humans, they would prove useful in the days to come.

The queenʻs nursery would soon be finished, billions of human-looking workers to come soon after that. Flight reservations were already being made to carry the workers everywhere. Thanks to the jet stream and Fedex, mycelium sporees would also soon arrive in every corner of the globe.

Redundant nano-bot factories, all connected telepathically, as Earths mycelium already were. With a way different agenda.

Alan?s robotic class went amazing smooth today. Every problem the kids were working on seem a little simpler for him to solve. His coding skills moved up a notch, as if he was micro-dosing LSD, as so many Silicon Valley coders were doing these days. Perhaps the mycelium wanted the plastic gathered up for later use. Recycling seemed to be one of its inherent abilities, as it is with most other mycelium. Even the kids noticed the ease with which Alan simplified and made elegant hundreds of line of code as if he were born to it.

Meanwhile, at Hana Elementary, Pua was noticing that she also had an expanded awareness, both of herself and of the children.

The last bells rang, Alan and Pua gathered their papers, and while Pua walked to Hasegawa store (a distant relation, no discounts) to pick up a few over-priced necessities, Alan drove into town to meet her there, then to the tennis courts by the Catholic church to pick up Koa and Malia. For the next 45 minutes as they drove to Kipahulu, the conversation centered on how all of their consciousnesses had changed.

Both Koa and Malia said their tennis game was awesome. They seemed to track flight of the balls better, as if they were in slow motion. Their volleys seemed effortless and accurate. It was a tie match, something that almost never happened. Koa, as with 3 years on Malia Koa usually stomped her.

Pua and Alan shared how hour by hour they were sharper. Alan told them about the presence he had felt on the drive back from Kahalui. As they turned into their driveway, Alan slowed to a stop as a strange feeling came over him. Everyone was silent.

Then Koa said “somethings wrong around here Dad, I feel weird”. “Me too” whispered Pua and Malia, almost simultaneously. They all looked at each other intensely, wondering what it was. Just then, the mycelium had decided it was time to make itself known to them (to a very limited extent).

“Aloha, please relax, Iʻm harmless” said the voice in each of their heads.

Their eyes shifted from one face to another, with fear and awe alternating feelings. “Who said that?” queried Pua. A moment later, Alan voiced “Who and where are you?”

“I am the mycelium.” “I am within your central nervous systems.” “ I mean you no harm.” “I am here to help you save your planet.”

“Where are you from?” asked Malia quietly.

“I am from an extinct galaxy far, far away.” “Like in Star Wars?” asked Koa.

“Yeah, like that” came a smiling voice. “Only we don?t always use spaceships to travel, we often use the pressure of light.”

“When did you arrive?” Alan queried, already suspecting it was when he was driving from Kahalui. “Thats correct, I first met you in the Wal-mart parking lot” “Letʻs continue up the drive to your house where I can show you more.” Alan put the car in gear, and continued up the hill.

They unloaded into the house, where Pua and Koa started dinner. They were all hungry. As much for understanding the situation as they were for food.

The conversation resumed. “ Your species has caused great changes to the Earth in the last 200 years yes?” They all nodded yes. “My species also had difficulties when we industrialized eons ago.” I was passing through your solar system when I detected your civilization has an increasing excess of CO2 in your atmosphere.”

“That?s why I came and entered your body in the Walmart parking lot, Alan.” “Sorry I could not ask for your permission at that time, I know it?s rude to be an uninvited guest in your culture.” If I?m causing you too much distress, please tell me and I?ll find some other people to help me.” It lied.

A long silence passed. One by one, each member of the Hasegawa family mulled over the situation, all of them coming to the conclusion that they too knew this, and did everything they could, but that climate change could never be stopped unless everyone on earth got on board with it, and even then, it may be too late to keep the speeding train of industrial civilization?s rapaciousness from going off the cliff. Some things can be fixed and some things cannot. And most of the worlds? politicians were either denying the facts or postponing action which could help due to economic disruption. Only the Greta Thurnbergs of the world actually got it.

Even if everyone got on board, reduced consumption, switched to a Green lifestyle and economy and did their best, most climate models painted a bleak future for billions lives and species. We could use a lot of help, and here, now, it was being offered to them.

“Why us?”asked Pua. “Why here?”

“Our people discovered how to use nanoparticles of iron to feed the algae in the ocean. Producing O2 and absorbing CO2, the algae then sinks to the bottom of the sea, sequestering carbon.” Hawai’i has an abundant supply and Pele has agreed to help.”

Mention of Pele sent minor shock waves through Pua and Alansʻ minds and hearts.

Raised in Buddhist traditions, trained in the discipline of science they didnʻt really give much credence to the Hawaiian creation stories. But the still respected them

Nevertheless, most of his Ohana still never carried pork over the Palis, a behavior which offended the demi-goddess Pele, who was responsible for the volcanoes who, along with the demi-god Maui, created the Hawaiian island chain. Hawaiians still placed offerings at many locations for the goddess, most recently in Big Island, visible out the window, where the lava flows consumed many homes and farms, as well as making volcano fog, adversely affecting people with lung problems. It had closed several Protea flower farms there as well.

Alan had visited the Zuni Pueblo people of New Mexico, who to this day carried prayer sticks to the Valdez Caldera which is now a 11,253 foot mountain volcano which blew up 40,000 years ago, Before it was an estimated 30,00 foot volcano. It devastated the landscape of the Four Corners area, possibly well before the Zuni even lived there. Yet they knew simply by looking it it at dozens of square miles of lava flows that this was something which they didn’t want to see happen again.

“I hope you can help me construct a facility near your farm which could produce sufficient nano-scale iron particles, disperse the correct amount into the air and sea, and return to a pre-fossil-fuel state by 2050.” said the mycelium.

“Iʻve heard of that idea before, but how can we determine the proper amount? If we get it wrong, we could create an ice age for the next 250,000 years!” said Alan.

“ I can attach a programmed spore of my species to each iron particle we create, and when the work is complete, they will all dive to the bottom of the sea, sequestering the CO2. By then, your green economy will have replaced fossil fuels with wind and solar power, and everyone on the planet will be much better off. We have done this before, on other planets”.

An awesome picture of a healthy, connected and cooperative world, with a healthy ecosystem, peace and prosperity for all flashed through all of their minds at that moment.

“What about the military? They are the worst polluters on the planet?” asked Koa, who was hoping to fly jets someday. He?d already logged over 10,000 hours on various flight simulators on his Ipad, and was a damn good pilot. (Virtually). F-22s were not available to the general public and that was Koasʻ favorite plane to fly besides gliders, which to him were like surfing invisible waves in the sky.

When he turned 14 in a few years, he planned to begin pilot training at Hana airport with Paddy, a family friend who had flown since he built his own seaplane at 14, eventually flying in 35 missions in WWII, “re-arranging German real estate” as he put it, and later, for Hawaiian Airlines..

The mycelium replied perfectly. “ There will still be a need for pilots, but there are much better engines than Rolls-Royce can ever make which cause no environmental damage. Check out U.S.Navy Patent # 10,144,532 B2”

Koa reached for his Ipad, saw the number in his head and typed “ US patent # 10,144,532 B2” into DuckDuckGo, retrieving it in a second, and started reading. “ The mycelium could sense the lingering doubts of Alan and Pua, and although Malia was smiling, she was still a little apprehensive.

Kids are generally more open to new experiences than adults, and she was no exception “I still feel weird” she said, with nods from Alan and Pua. Koa was struggling with the patent, so he passed the pad to his father, hoping for a leg up in his understanding. As Alan slowly read the patent, he realized how much information the already mycelium knew about us. No sooner was the question formed in his mind when the mycelium “spoke”.

“I needed to know your civilization in order to better help you.”

“That makes sense, but it is not science that is the problem, it?s the politicians and corporate greed ” voiced Pua. “I completely agree” the mycelium chimed in. “However, when our technology is deployed, they will quickly come on board to a green economic model if they wish to survive.”

“Think Alexandria Ortiz-Cortez.”

Pua asked “ Will everyone get telepathic, as we are now? “That would make dishonesty and miscommunications obsolete wouldnʻt it?”

The mycelium answered after a short pause “Yes, it would, and that will come. but our species prefers to let that develop naturally. And it will. Soon.

“Like the Star Trek prime directive.” Koa chimed in. “Exactly, weʻve made an exception with your family and students in order to demonstrate to you the possibilities for the future of your race.” was the answer.

But not the truth.

We mentioned it had an agenda. It was a massive and long-term agenda, to execute its dna-coded programs to recreate the bodies, minds and civilization of its creators.

After all, it had a tremendous job too do. First it had to create infrastructure-building nanobots to create the necessary tools and materials necessary to and prepare to start growing new bodies for its creators and installing their individual memory patterns in order to complete the reassembly of the creators of its race. And all of its favorite food species, most enslaved somewhere else, either in their home galaxy, or on the way to earth.

Its mission was to recreate its creators and their entire civilization. Every important aspect of both were redundantly recorded in its vast, telepathically connected holographic sub-quantum memory banks.

And now it was ready to begin, and it had transport to a remote location with a knowledgeable, talented and malleable human assistant.

Their relatives been here on earth for several hundred million years. But not this genetically modified branch of the family, which was created by an extremely war-like civilization…and that’s not an oxymoron, it?s that they were just plain mean. No one wanted to have their entire populace and civilization conquered, enslaved, and perhaps eventually wiped out by a superior race. When they faced several million years of insanely mean behavior it was pretty much a done deal. Even though humans were pretty good at that skill, there was no comparison to these guys.

Fucking Paradise for the most rapaciously psychotic species in the Universe.

Self-reproducing nano-bots the mycelium had been constructing in Alan?s digestive tract ever since Pai’ia. Made partially from iron atoms scavenged from his bilirubin, they were already running programs on the tiny DNA hyper-computer the mycelium had just finished making last night.

Also fissioning by the billions, it wouldn’t be long before they flowed out of the rotating compost toilet drum, through the plastic floor and out into the jungle, a single file line at first, growing wider as the nano-bots multiplied. It would be only a few hours until it was visible as a shiny thread which was analyzing everything it touched, scavenging atoms to reproduce itself. All the while transmitting their progress and data back to the mycelium in Alansʻ gut.

It knew the layout of Alansʻ land already, including a rarely-visited lava tube a mile or so uphill in Haleakala National Park. The first nanobots had reached there in a few hours, modified their production programs and began to construct exponentially larger machines, grabbing atoms from the floors and walls of the Lava tube.

Meanwhile the Mycelium was busy on the internet, learning how to disrupt and assume control the worlds? communications and banking systems, its electrical grids, transportation and military command and control centers in every nation.

What fun this will be! But not fun for any Earthly species.

Most likely.. The End




Many years, loves, stories. Kindness is my religion. (non - functional) @hirumaui

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Terry Hill, Eclectic Autodidact Artist, Weaver

Terry Hill, Eclectic Autodidact Artist, Weaver

Many years, loves, stories. Kindness is my religion. (non - functional) @hirumaui

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