Mycology Seminar - Class Five [Tuesday Evening, 2nd of December]

[tolpen]

Once again you find yourself attending an evening class on the Selectech Chapters from Practical Subterranean Mycology. Even though the subject has a tradition nearly as old as the Fall, no one has bothered to rename it so it would form a good acronym.
Today the classroom is looking almost cheerful. Someone had cleared out all the poetic yet grim memento moris. Someone, quite possibly someone else, had then decorated all possible and impossible surfaces of the room in joyful expectations of the Yule, in the best traditions of the four weeks of Advent. And finally a third someone has then replaced all the saints and angels, including the Virgin Mary and even the swaddled baby Jesus in the manger, with elephants, all triumphantly raising their trunks. Since the elephants are wooden or ceramic, they do not toot. But if they could, it would be a cacophony your ears would not appreciate for long.
(Yes, in the manger the baby elephant is carefully swaddled in the finest silk. Yes, there are several elephants hanging under the ceiling whom you can pull by the string and they then flap their gigantic ears, which apparently are how they fly. And yes, several of those flying elephants have musical instruments, such as a lyre, tambourine or– No, that is not a trumpet, that is just a gilded trunk, now that you came closer it is plain to see.)
When you cast your eyes around the room, the edge of the festive Nativity model arranged on the teacher’s desk (the only desk long enough to hold it all) is still attended to by your teacher. He is carefully arranging a shepherd’s crook into yet another elephant’s trunk so that it can lead the flock of sheep forward.
To your great surprise, sprawled in the very back row is another man, one with a veritable moustache, deep velvet blazer and giving the air of cigars and sharp sandalwood cologne. He is impossible to forget once you’ve met him once, the booming voice and a quick and hearty laugh identify him quickly in any salon or classroom: Professor Guildenstern himself. Good to know he is doing better, he even has a healthy colour to his skin!
He is flipping through a thin book. As he goes through it, ignoring the students filtering into the classroom, he says: “Manyar, this is all nice and–”
“I believe we have agreed that thou wouldst not interrupt the lecture. That includes the preparations. If thou dostn’t like the arrangement, I am free to discuss thy concerns during my office hours.” (That translates from academic English as: Sod off.)
Professor Guildenstern takes his leaves.
“And do not steal the teaching props.”
The thin book makes a disgraceful arc to the middle of the desk where it knocks off the comet. The star falls on the floor where it remains like a piece of wood, which it is.

“Well, now that you’ve seen how my predecessor sees our class, I think ‘tis time to move onto new possibilities of Mycology. We have so far talked of the practical every day use we have for fungi even in fields where we suspect it the least and how we adapt the fungi to suit these fields. Not to mention the social benefit.
Today,” he beams with a brilliant smile, “I would like to introduce you all to the area which takes up most of my personal research: Absorption!”
And here he goes, scrawling half-legible letters on the board, his hand barely keeping up with his mouth which itself is barely keeping up with his mind.
“There are several types of fungi that are excellent at absorbing all manner of – pardon the academic jargon – stuff from the substrate. Possibly the most famous is the amethyst deceiver drawing up arsenic. My personal favourite is the quartz deceiver which in similar fashion absorbs ideas from soil and as such fruiting bodies harvested from old colonies can be one of the most potent hallucinogens when eaten.
With little engineering we could strengthen their absorbing properties and for example purify the soil from which we grow our crops of unwanted heavy metals and thoughts. But apparently nobody minds enough to give anyone any funding. Ultimately, in the eyes of investors, people are the cheapest commodity.
Currently the most priced commodity is information and the speed at which it gets to you. The second best priced commodity is the safe encryption of that information. Specimens much like the quartz deceiver, doily milk-stem and the entire serratusfunis genus are capable of soaking up information in some form into their bodies and mycelium network.
A dedicated mycologist can form a fungal archive and file into it at will. Removing information is more difficult and retrieving the information requires knowledge of the archive itself. A good mycologist can put the entire Encyclopedia Britannica into two fungal pots of the bloody saw-stem over the course of five months… and then lose it all over the course of three hours when the atmospheric pressure in his house decides that decimal point is good for throwing darts.” The expression the Mycologist shows is already known throughout London as ‘I did not have a good summer.’

From behind the desk he pulls a low trolley cart with yet another bunch of fungi pots. These hold knotty lumps that look sharp and vaguely blue-brown.
“This beautiful species is known both as the dowager saw-stem, the Rabenhorst’s saw-stem and the knotted onion; all names reportedly because cutting the fruiting bodies releases toxins that stimulate the lacrimal glands. By the way, the toxin also absorbs very quickly through the skin. Dermal exposition takes more for a human body to reach the lowest observable effect threshold, but you will be weeping for hours.
The Rabenhorst’s saw-stem records sounds and upon stimulation quietly reproduces them. For your today’s practical, to get the ropes of it, you will use the finest equipment an archivist can have.”
The finest equipment are two dinner forks with the middle teeth broken off, that is for stimulating the fungus, a stethoscope, so you can hear the fungus, and finally a trowel and a spoon so you can replant and rearrange your archive as needed.
And what exactly is it that you are doing?
“With the help of a typewriter and some string and a lot of coffee I have turned your last practical creations into a neat little collection," the Soft-Eyed Mycologist picks up the thin book Professor Guildenstern had so angrily thrown into the Elephant Nativity before, “And archived it in this specimen. The fungus then proliferated and I replanted it purposefully out of archiving order. With the collection as your guide, your task is to organise it back together. You can keep the collections, by the way. There should be one for each of you.”

The end of the class sees you saved from (or disturbed from, depending on your attitude) from precision archive-gardening. You can go home and wash the ringing whisper of the mushroom out of your ears.
But not before the Mycologist calls out: “I am not yet through all of thy essays, but expect them graded and returned before the holiday season closes the classrooms!”

Comments

Sign In

[tolpen]

Today the ledger is unaccompanied by apples. Sign in, collapsing style, if you would.

Re: Sign In

[theanachronistictailor]

The Anachronistic Tailor arrives seven minutes before the beginning of class, and signs in. There is no space to set their essay on the desk full of the Nativity scene, so the two pages are set instead on the lectern.

They're looking a little wan. Perhaps the cold season's not doing them much good.

Before Class

[tolpen]

Professor Guildenstern doesn't seem much for talk today, as he leaves post-haste. But there are other things you could do, surely.

Re: Before Class

[ticktopis_observatorium]

The Professor arranged their desk for the class before taking the stack of papers that forms the essay and go bring it to the lectern, admiring more the impressive winter elephants. Just in time to bid farewell to Professor Guildenstern as he left in a hurry. The man is a legend around the campus, for good reasons, but his appreciation for innovative and unorthodox teaching methods isn't among them. Of course he disagrees, but this is now the Soft-Eyed Mycologist's class! And so far it's going great.

The Professor approaches said teacher with talking intentions.

"Merry December, my dear! Please allow me to praise your festive elephants, they are perfect each and every one! Oh, and... Good to know Professor Guildenstern found his way back from disappearance."

After a moment, wondering what and how to say it, they decide to attack with something less obvious.

"Today the Cottage celebrates yet another change of season. Do you think a certain Queen and Knight will be seen around soon? I've been looking forward to the progress of one such player and if I'm not mistaken, this one could be their last distinction left to achieve..."

Of course anyone could approach the Professor either on their way to the desk or back, there is plenty of time and plenty of friends to catch up with.

Re: Before Class

[theubiquitousguest]

The Ubiquitous Guest found his seat among the throng and sat with a sore and aching sigh, though not with the hissing wince that usually came from his scars. The gel the Professor provided him with was working just as intended and applied as well as possible. If one were to look closely, they'd find his hands bandaged once again, mainly around the fingers, where either callouses were first beginning to form or where a needle had managed to impale him through one.

The Guest smiled as he looked around at the decorations, finding the tone festive, whimsical, appealing, and - most importantly - against the established status quo of Christian authoritarianism over a holiday that was originally Pagan to begin with. He'd hold it in that the math said, if a Christ did exist, he would have been born in the autumn. Didn't want to spoil the elephants in the room.

Speaking of the elephants in the room, the Guest looked over the altered Nativity with a fond and, perhaps, almost plotting smile. It was difficult to say whether the smile meant intention or just fantasy, but it was hard to tell what most expressions truly meant with him.

The Guest was doing somewhat well today and was open to conversation, should anyone approach.

Re: Before Class

[the_masked_hunter]

The Hunter strides to his usual seat in the back, leaning back into his chair. He doesn't set his writing utensils on the desk in front of him. The lamp-cat curls up in his lap, emitting a low, burbling purr as a gloved hand strokes its back.

Re: Before Class

[bookwizard]

If the Persistent Professor was surprised to see Professor Guildenstern in the class, he didn't show it. Only a single raised eyebrow showed his thoughts as Guildenstern was ejected (metaphorically, thank goodness) from the lecture hall. How curious. That man was something of a legend on the sprawling Benthic campus, although not in an entirely positive way. Still, nobody could deny that his unorthodox research hadn't borne fruit (or in this case, fruiting bodies).

Before settling into his usual seat, the Persistent Professor took a closer look at the strange pachyderm-enhanced nativity scene on the front desk of the hall. Behind him, his Blemmigan Secretary was carefully arranging its employer's(?) notes and books out on the desk. A cursory glance would reveal that there was no apparent order to this placement, which seemed instead to be either entirely random or based on some Bizarre myco-logic.

Re: Before Class

[theanachronistictailor]

Dark eyes examine the classroom rather slowly, this evening, while the Tailor finds their seat. There is temptation, however brief, to take a new spot- to creep to the back of the classroom, out of view and easier to miss. To do so, however, would indicate something is wrong; that something fundamental has changed. It would only draw more attention to those who are always looking. And besides, there is a fellow back there who reeks of cologne.

So they take their usual seat. A thicker woolen coat is removed and hung on the chair to reveal black waistcoat and gray shirtsleeves. They pull out the notebook and the pen and set them on the desk, before folding their gloved hands together on the surface. The black leather creaks from the grip before it is forcibly loosened.

Advent, or Yuletide, has crept up on them. So have all the elephants in the room, many of which are metaphorical in nature. (They cannot be refuted forever.) The Tailor's eyes dart from the walls, to the ceiling, to the desk once more, the small elephant in swaddling and their educator's hands delicately handling the crook and the trunk. (They cannot quite look at his face.)

The Tailor is lost in thought, and it rather shows that they are not looking for much in the way of interaction if it can be helped. But then, that's never stopped people before, has it? Though time's short.

Re: Before Class

[theliedpiper]

Piper wanted to talk to their friends as they see them filtering into the room, but... wow, most of them looked a bit rough today, didn't they? Maven and Devil especially... Piper knew that Maven wasn't doing well, and had tried their best to check on the few people in Parabola like she'd asked, but. Well. Piper had spent a good chunk of the last two weeks out of commission.

They hadn't meant to miss last class. The Golden Silverer hadn't given a damn about their schedule. At least they'd managed to scrounge together a rather unimpressive essay at the last minute, despite that.

After so much time spent falling through the past, Piper's head still hurt, felt too full. Cramming more knowledge into it today might be a bad idea. But they had to try, didn't they? They couldn't have the Mycologist or their other friends thinking that they didn't want to see them. It would be unacceptable to trade their current friends for a past one.

(If the Silverer still wanted to be friends, and wasn't just toying with them as a punishment. Which was still possible.)

Piper shook their head. They were trying to take their mind off all that, at least for the duration of class. Maybe someone would want to talk to them?

Re: Before Class

[the_maven_and_the_devil]

Maven and Devil did not sit in their usual spots.

Devil sat over by the Tailor soon after he arrived. Maven, after setting her apple pie by the ledger, wandered around to look at the decor before sitting by the Chimeric Professor.

As with the previous weeks, both looked tired and on edge, now more than ever. Now, though, they didn't even have each other's presence to lean on.

Re: Before Class

[the_maven_and_the_devil]

In a surprising change of pace, Devil approached the Mycologist. Despite the exhausted look on him, he managed a lighthearted comment, "Well, hard to ignore all these elephants in the room that's for sure!"

He was continuing his attempt to let go of his hang ups and not be weird about the Mycologist, which included conversing with him one-on-one and not just with other friends in the conversation.

----

Maven approached the Mycologist later, a smile on her face despite the shadows under her eyes, "Hello, I love the elephants. I've been enjoying all the decor you've been doing, but this is particularly delightful!"

It seemed there was more she wanted to say, but she started with that.

Lecture

[tolpen]

You are learning about mycogene archives. What a novel and portable way to store information, provided you know how to retrieve it. Or communicate with fungi.

Re: Lecture

[bookwizard]

The Persistent Professor was intrigued by the lecture topic, but didn't take notes today (after all, what's the point of having a Blemmigan Secretary if they can't take notes for you?). He moved one gloved hand casually up to raise a finger, drawing the Mycologist's attention when it was time for questions.

"Are you familiar with the practice of distilling Potable Philosophies practiced in the Mangrove College?" he asked. "The principles of storing information that you've discussed seem quite similar to how information-absorbing fruits and mushrooms operate on the island. Is there a commonality to these processes?"

What the Persistent Professor didn't mention was that he had created and sold quite a few of these synthetic philosophies, with his friend the Unreconstructed Cynic as the middleman. He wondered how many of his potable philosophies had made it to London, and if the Mycologist's own research could be used to improve the process. Could information be imparted by a spore-infused drink? Such a practice could revolutionise learning, although it was likely such a process was bound to have peculiar side-effects.

Re: Lecture

[theanachronistictailor]

Belatedly, a hand half raises from one seat in the classroom while the Tailor's other attempts notes.

"You mentioned the quartz deceiver passing on ideas in the form of hallucinogens when the fruiting bodies are consumed. If some kind of input is absorbed by a fungal archive, and then the bodies are," they search for a word, "processed, in one way or another, would the information still be passed in its encrypted form? Or would it become lost or inaccessible?"

They flip through their notes to ones from an earlier class, and then without looking up to meet their educator's gaze, "I know there are probably species much more suited to the absorption than others, but for example- the cotton sponge. If it were to hypothetically absorb another type of information, and then were processed into fiber and fabric, could the final result impart any of the original input?"

They should probably look up, meet the Mycologist's gaze- so they do. He's so... enthusiastic. This is his field. The Tailor is trying to meet his energy, or at least show they are paying attention and are participating.

"As only one example, of course. Wine-making I suppose could be another, more obvious and well-known processing technique."

Of course, all of these could be pointless questions if the species used in all these methods aren't even capable of the type of absorption being discussed... it's probably showing how much a layman they are, equating one to another. Why did they raise their hand and draw attention?

Activity

[tolpen]

Grab your mangled fork and stethoscope and sort out your own poetry. You can work in groups. Pairs are suggested, but groups of more and groups of one are also an entirely valid option.

Re: Activity

[theubiquitousguest]

The Ubiquitous Guest had finely attuned hearing and zero experience in archiving. Using the fork and the stethoscope, he very carefully determined which fruiting body had which set of lines and labeled them accordingly with little slips of paper. The only one he recognized was his own, short and whispered so faintly as to be almost inaudible. But he found it anyway, with the stimulation of a fungus and careful listening, and quickly labeled the piece. He at least knew his own name would be filed, regardless of first or last, under 'M', but was unable to determine how it might be filed, nor if there was anyone before or after him in alphabetical order with refined specificity.

The Guest cast a glance about the room, perhaps hoping for someone who was much better at archiving and didn't have as good of hearing.

Re: Activity

[ticktopis_observatorium]

The Chimeric Professor, taking the tools and specimens in consideration, turned towards the Maven with high spirits and bright eyes.

"Shall we get to the Activity together?"

Re: Activity

[theanachronistictailor]

Relieved to be wearing gloves, but overall discomfited by the assignment, the Tailor turns to the Devil and Piper for it. They fetch a pot and tools and the collection of poetry, and between the three of them they begin.

Damn, but they really were hoping for the assignment from last class to not become relevant again. No matter. The three of them can make it work. It's a bit chaotic as they find their rhythm, but it is, at least, a distraction from all the other troubles.

Reading through the poems, the Tailor forces themself not to linger on any one. It is still hard to hear the words spoken aloud in the low whisper of the mushroom, when they press the stethoscope to the completed work and listen.

If love is real
it is meant for other people.

"That sounds right enough," they eventually say, trying to smile. "That's that one done. Onto the next?"

Re: Activity

[bookwizard]

The Professor examined the makeshift tuning forks for a moment before tapping the first one on the desk in front of him. It let off a discordant note (although thankfully not a Discordant note) in the range of an E sharp. The sound faded in less than a second; this was hardly ideal equipment, but then field equipment rarely was, so this was a worthwhile exercise. The second tuning fork was similarly less-than-helpful. "Shall we get to it then?" he asked his Blemmigan Secretary.

The blemmigan, occupied with the Professor's notes, did not deign to respond. And so the Professor set about pressing his stethoscope to each mushroom in turn, banging the broken dinner forks repeatedly against the desk until they had worn small grooves into the wooden surface. He was thankful that he'd worn gloves on this chilly day; even the close proximity was triggering his tear ducts and making him sniff, and he knew that if he'd had to actually touch the mushrooms with exposed skin he'd have tears streaming down his face in short order (as indeed some of his classmates appeared to be suffering from).

He set about re-potting the mushrooms in something approximating order as the Secretary took dictated notes. After the first couple of replantings, the Professor cast a glance around the room to see if anyone else needed help or was looking for a teammate.

After Class

[tolpen]

Any parting actions before you head out of the classroom to handle the rest of your evening in an appropriate fashion?

Re: After Class

[theanachronistictailor]

The Tailor packs their few things quietly, still a little out of sorts from the activity but trying their best to put it out of their mind. They look around the room again, at the elephants all round, and despite their poor complexion and their tired, tired eyes, their mouth becomes a firm line. The elephant in the room that refuses to be refuted any longer, the Tailor reminds themself. Go on, laugh. It's funny.

They pull on their coat and then approach the lectern. Eyes forward, on the nativity, before looking up to the Mycologist.

"Thank you again, for your assistance the other week. Do you... I was wondering if you had a moment to speak with me about something."

Re: After Class

[theubiquitousguest]

The Ubiquitous Guest had heard the earlier question from the Tailor and could not stop thinking about it. The fabric portion of it was fascinating, certainly, but his brain actually latched onto the topic of information-storing wine. His thoughts churned in his head in a spin, occasionally, unconsciously glancing at the Tailor in his thoughts, part of the long locomotive of neural pathways.

He couldn't address it yet, however. His thoughts were too scattered, too unclear, overlapping far too much. He wouldn't have a good enough answer, were he confronted.

Instead, the Guest occupied himself with glancing over the decorations. Without visible movement towards it, the Guest smiled and walked away on his cane, one of the elephants missing from the Nativity display. Within moments, also without visible movement, said elephant was found lovingly balanced at the lectern, as if giving a class of its own. No fingerprints were left, no calling cards or notable features, simply silently sneaking the elephant from one place in the room to another, for a bit of fun. Nothing but a quietly amused smile could hint at who must have done the careful, secretive moving.

Re: After Class

[ticktopis_observatorium]

The Chimeric Professor requested some of their classmates (the Anachronistic Tailor, Lied Piper, Brash Devil and Soft-Hearted Maven) as well as their teacher the Soft-Eyed Mycologist to stay after class for there was an important subject to talk about.

Well, the time had come. And after waiting for the appointed companions to gather and the rest to depart, they start.

"First of all, thank every one of you for being here. I know each of you have your own problems, ambitions and plans to care about and focus on, so you being willing to entertain a humble request of mine is truly valuable."

Very well, no more escaping from this now.

"Some months before the Seminar that brought us together, I managed to avoid a death by Dissolution. One of a complex nature. One some of you may already know about or even be familiar with."

No eyes lingered on the Mycologist, no gesture pointed at him, but he (and only he) could indeed feel addressed to.

"Well. Between last class and this one I discovered said death wasn't completely avoided. In fact, it's been coexisting with me in a tense balance that approaches its collapse. After consulting with an expert, the approximate date in which said fact will catch up with me is March the twenty-ninth of this year eighty-ninety-nine to come. Which will mean my final death."

At this point they raised both their hands asking for calm and patience, just in case someone decides, quite rightfully, to freak out.

"But thanks to the help of our Morbid Socialite and other knowledgeable sources, I have prepared a plan to avoid such a grievous destiny. To fulfill it I'll require the particular expertise of every single one of you. Although I'd understand you not being capable of offering said assistance, for whatever reason. I could find others if needed be. But I'd very much prefer it laying in hands I so trust and cherish."

Inhaling deeply before sighing, that weight already out of their chest.

"So now I ask all of you who agree to at least try to say so, then I will explain each of your parts to be played. Those of you who don't are free to leave now."

OOC(The idea is for each of you to answer in a separate reply, having a thread for each person and plan. But, of course, it is a group meeting, so any character who wishes to interact with another one's explanation can do so, in the respective thread.)

Essay

[tolpen]

In the Soft-Eyed Mycologist's office is a stack of Essays that have been submitted to him in due time. Is yours among them? What is it about? How is the grade going to be? This can make up to forty per cent towards your final grade (the best of the best, of course, being full 100 %).

Re: Essay

[theanachronistictailor]

The Tailor's essay is approximately a page and a quarter long. It describes the usage of fungi and their fruiting bodies in the development of pigments and dyes in the Neath. The writer speaks mostly from the theoretical, drawing from and referencing the information found in Wild and Domesticated Mushrooms of London with proper citation, but the paper lacks the detail that would be found in an individual with practical experience. In the cultivation aspect, at least- there is a little more depth in the paragraph describing the processes used to extract and strengthen the pigments.

It's not very long. The writer has ideas, clearly, but didn't appear to have the time to give more than an overview of the subject. But, since the second page has so much space, there are two illustrated mushrooms taking up the remainder, labelled properly. And- hey, what's this? They've been painted a little, with the pigments made from their living counterparts' fruiting bodies?

That's cute. Seems they're a little more of an artist than a writer. Still, it's only two- not a large sample size. But optimistically it can gain a couple extra points for effort on a paper that's... passable. Solidly passing. Maybe in the low 80 percent range?

(Some might argue this score. The point is it isn't up to the Tailor's exacting standards at all. Better than nothing, though.)

OOC

[tolpen]

Gotta say that the past weeks at work were really busy and I've been dead tired.

Anyway. Advent time. Do you celebrate it? Do you celebrate anything else? Any convenient talk hooks I could drop in? I am bad at conversations.

(I'll drop by later when I have cooked.)

Re: OOC

[tolpen]

So turns out that "past week was really busy" was un understatement because apparently my work section had broken a record in samples processed. No wonder I was so tired.

y discovery of the week is Income Tax, which is, apparently, a drink. But it allows me to say that I prefer income tax rather than sex on the beach so. What a beautiful sentence, right?

Paradox of the month: My homeland is proudly claiming to be the most atheistic country of the world. But if you don't celebrate Christmas, you are weird. Delivery of the presents is handled by Baby Jesus. Yes, the one that grew up and was executed at 33. But his child version has been around for centuries and every Christmas Evening delivers presents faster than the post.

We are going to have lull in activity: no class on 30th December. I am going to be rather busy with real life family visits et cetera, and I won't really be much in mind for playing anything except for violent shooters (natural outcome of family visits). If you'd still like something with outlined structure like the class but wouldn't mind me being absent with the Mycologist (who does not celebrate anyway, long live the Elephants!), I could stitch together a Yule Ball. Benthic college looks like it would do those. But please, please let me know. I am aware that there are most likely going to be people who will also need a social break.