Chapter 420: Disturbing thoughts

Milo didn't want to become mulch and decided against trying to escape. No one was directly threatening him, or even getting close to him, and he was very curious about the city. The other Myconians he'd encountered had reacted like monsters, either sitting passively rooted in caves or attacking as he got near. As he and his escort walked along the path, the ring of guards kept to their pace, always the same distance away from him. He observed their synchronized movements, each of them taking a step at the same time, with matching arm movements. He theorized that some form of communication was happening that he couldn't sense.

Walking slowly and matching the pace of his guide gave him time to look around, too much time as far as he was concerned; their progression was only a third of his normal walking pace. Growing a little bored, he analyzed the distribution of mushroom beds and the types of mushrooms in each. The placement wasn't in a geometric pattern that he could see. The one thing they had in common was a lower relative elevation than the surrounding rocky areas. Water retention? Less exposure to air circulation to prevent cross-contamination with other beds? Or was it a case of needing special combinations of mushrooms in each bed to maximize their growth? That had been the case with the Golden Puffballs and their more poisonous cousins. He did his best to catalogue and describe each bed to himself. Harry would be greatly interested in any information that he brought back.

The path they were on was interesting, as well. It had a smooth surface with no bumps but provided good traction. It looked like sand at first, but he thought there might be other colors mixed into it. It was hard to tell in the gloom, with the only light coming from glowing mushrooms in some of the beds. He bent down to touch it, finding that most of it was a hardened surface, but his fingers brought away sand and another substance. He stared at it for a moment as they walked, finally identifying it as a type of ground shell.

He guide was watching him. "To be interested in the dirt on the ground?"

"Yes, quite interested. I assume you are grinding snail shells to a fine powder, mixing this with sand and some type of natural binding material, probably myconic in nature, to form a cheap but durable paving material. The resulting material will have durability, and the calcium will form small deposits that will fill cracks and wear as they occur. Very efficient if one has a large amount of mushrooms, sand, and snails."

"Well reasoned. An abundance of snail shells. A use was found for them. Everything needs to have a use, or it is mulch. To have further thoughts on this pathway?"

"Oh, some. I have a lot of thoughts about everything, but I don't wish to delay and waste the time of the Collective. Please let us proceed, and not be mulch."

They made their way slowly along the path, but once again, he found something that made him pause at one point. His eyes had been drawn to a long trench carved out of the stone, bare of anything. The rocks to either side were melted. Looking for other scars in the rock, he saw three more. Turning slowly in a circle, he identified dozens. His escort and his guards stopped and waited for him. They resumed moving after he'd seen enough and began walking again. His guide spoke without inflection, "To be interested in our farming?"

"I am. All ratkin hollows grow mushrooms in large farms. I assume that your methods are far superior, both in the placement of supportive varieties and the quality of the substrate. For omnivorous and vegetarian mammals and lizards, mushrooms are a nutritious part of their dietary needs. They can be used medicinally, as well as for their most important role in cheesemaking."

"To be curious about other things?"

"Of course. I want to know how big the largest cavern in the Deepdown is. I want to discover the secrets of the stinkiest cheese and solve the mysteries surrounding the origins of humans. Are they really just a weak offshoot of the Orcish race?. I also want to know why base ten mathematics is almost universally used instead of base 12. It has to be more than fingers and toes. Even base eight would be better, specifically from a base two perspective. How can a dwarf survive on beer alone? Why is chocolate a force multiplier for cheese, but only for humans and halflings? What criteria are needed for a Dungeon Lord? Can you work hard to achieve it? Or is it something you were born to do? How is it that Draconik ponzie schemes still work after all these centuries?"

"To be finished listing curiosities?"

Milo stopped and pulled out a small nibble of cheddar. He was feeling fatigued and needed a pick-me-up. He instantly felt better. His tail twitched behind him, and his nimble fingers got to work, hidden in his long sleeves. "Of course not. I have thousands of things I'm interested in."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"To be typical of sages, but many ponder the topics of the gods, destiny, and turtles. These are absent from your list."

"I leave the gods alone, and they don't bother me. Destiny is a poor concept. It ignores the freedom of the individual and is used by the power-hungry to impose their vision of things on others. Turtles all the way down."

"What are you pondering now? What is it that you are most curious about?" His guide stepped in closer, and the guards swayed back and forth.

Milo stopped walking, looked at the distance to the Myconian guards around him, and estimated the distance to the tall mushrooms they were approaching. He turned to his guide. "I'm wondering if you have thought about the consequences of trying to get into my head. I can feel you digging away at my defenses and sending tendrils into me. At the same time, the spores being put out by the gardens are becoming more and more potent. Our guards are synchronizing their actions better as they come closer to the physical forms of the Collective. I theorize a form of telepathy that works best through the mycelium but can also be used by the collective when a member of another race is nearby. You want to know what I am thinking and get into my memories. You assume that you know what I am capable of from my battle with Kronk and the demise of Robazal, but I can assure you that you are underestimating me. And I know that even as the Collective tries to enter my thoughts, they are speaking through you."

The Guide was silent, the Soldiers unmoving. Milo stared at the Collective. "I don't like people who try to get into my mind. Regardless of how inept they are at it."

The Collective's speaker began talking in clear, unaccented speech. "You veer dangerously close to becoming mulch." The soldiers took a step towards him, tightening the circle.

Milo went to all fours, and his tail swept through the legs of the Myconian, knocking him to the ground. Then he rose, and flicked his fingers and tail, completing the 360-degree force blast he had constructed with two of his overminds. His third was playing tag with the Collective, and his fourth was preparing a surprise. The force blast was thin as a knife, cutting through the soft flesh of the tall soldiers. It had taken time, but Milo had finally identified them as Level 9 Myconian Soldiers. He did enough damage with his first strike to cut them all cleanly in half.

At the same time, he took a curious thought passed to him by Poe's Raven and wrapped it around an impossible-to-construct three-dimensional puzzle by M.C. Escher. The thought simultaneously told you the construct was impossible, and yet showed you the secret of making it, if only you looked at it correctly. He gave that thought to the reaching tendrils of the Collective. The towers, actually the giant Myconians of the Collective, were shaken, visibly swaying as their minds grappled with the disturbing thoughts. His guide twitched several times, then stood up. Eyes that had been unblinking and bland for their walk now glared at him.

"That was unpleasant."

Milo shrugged, "I don't like people in my head, and now you have a reason for staying out, and you know what will happen if you try that again."

"True. We have shared knowledge. Unpleasant knowledge, but we console ourselves that you must also deal with that disturbing thought."

"I am untroubled by it. I had to deal with a hundred such when I encountered the CHIMERA. I have ninety-nine more to share with you."

His guide stepped back. "The thoughts of the great destroyer! The bane of the First Collective! What do you know of it?!!! Has it returned?" All around them, in the fields and far away in the city at the Collectives' base, shroomlings began to scream, and puffs of spores burst forth."

Milo leaned on his staff and stared at green, glowing eyes. "I know that it is dead. Destroyed. Reduced to small components and melted into scrap. It also got into my head, and I used what I learned to kill it."

"You are a very disturbing meat creature, bringing horrible thoughts, and yet we hope that your words are true. We propose a truce to share knowledge. In recompense for our rudeness, we will provide cheese, sweet blusher smoothies, and roasted puffcakes."

"I agree to a truce. But...can we walk faster? I look forward to your provided food."

"Ah, a connoisseur of fine mycological beverages. This husk requires refreshment as well. We will proceed at double pace to our refreshments. Be welcome, Sage Milo, and be assured you will not become mulch. At least, not today."