'And without decomposition, no higher creature could have evolved on Earth. There would be no regenerative cycle; the first micro-organisms that ever formed would be with us today, two or three billion years dead but as durable as stone. Natural selection would never have had a chance.
No room, no food, no air. As a matter of fact, to the best of our present knowledge, the presence of fungi of some type is essential to the development of any higher forms of life anywhere.'
Subble looked at the mushroom with new respect. 'I congratulate you, little saprophyte.'
Cal led the way to the third door, that had previously opened on money, gems, works of art and a library. Again the room was blank until he spoke.
'You saw wealth in conventional terms. Most people do. But in reality, wealth is not money, art or literature; it is the improved standard of living these things represent. A man can starve, locked in a roomful of gold, or in a library. The gold must be traded for functional products, the books interpreted to apply to tangible things. What you saw were the convenient symbols for wealth, material and intellectual - handy for tabulations and comparisons and storage, but not directly contributory to personal wellbeing.'
'No argument there,' Subble said. This certainly was a lesson in how far afield a mind could go when not corrected.
'Instead, let's look at the things we can use. Observe the healthy expanse of growing barley, wheat, rye and oats - the breadbasket of a nation, a world.'
Subble saw the patchwork of fields as from an airplane, stirred like standing water by vagrant breezes. 'And peas, tomatoes, onions, potatoes.' The plane swooped low to bring these into view. 'Cattle, sheep, horses.' Livestock ranges appeared - the old kind, before the animals were herded into darkened buildings for confinement and forced feeding.
'But these are ordinary plants and animals,' Subble pointed out.
'But they are dying. See, the leaves are wilting, the animals are feeble.' And they were; a massive blight swept over the fertile scene, destroying flora and fauna alike.
'They have been attacked by tiny eelworms, nematodes,'
Cal explained. 'We are shrinking now, rapidly, down to rat size, mouse size, insect size - but the destroyer is neither rodent nor insect.'
The airplane vanished and the fields zoomed closer, as though they were falling, and expanded voluminously. Then the two men stood on the ground and watched the world explode around them. 'We are an inch tall, a tenth of an inch, a hundredth.'
The world was an animated microscope slide. 'We are in a chamber in the soil, the humus just below the surface. This is the most active biologic zone of the world, the vital key to the entire ecological cycle. This is the fiercest battleground of the three kingdoms - they fight ruthlessly, you know and there are monsters here more astonishing than any we know in the macrocosm.' He gestured. 'Before us is one such: the nematode, the most successful wormlike organism on Earth.'
Subble looked at it: an eyeless python twenty-five feet long, according to present perspective. The semi-transparent body behind the bare oral openings was a foot in diameter. 'It eats anything, but especially root hairs,' Cal continued, 'and it can lay its own weight in eggs in a week. It is one of the most savage destroyers we know of, and the plants we cultivate have little effective defense against it, since we corral them in so tightly. A cultivated field is like an open supermarket, for the worm.'
The nematode slid toward them, its body slimy and rank. Subble stepped back. 'Do other animals handle it satisfactorily?'
'It would dominate the world, if not stopped - and neither plant nor animal seems capable of controlling it. It parasitizes larger creatures, too. It can expand its length a thousandfold, in time, in the intestine of a mammal. No sizable crops would survive its ravages, and-'
'I understand the gravity of the situation,' Subble said, retreating another step as the blind orifice quested after him. 'Just what does stop it?'
Cal pointed to the side. 'Now here is a handsome clump of saprophytic fungus. Perfectly harmless - we can pass among the threads - the mycelium - without danger.'
'Third kingdom to the rescue!' Subble said, climbing through the spongy brush he pictured. At least it offered some tacit resistance to progress of the hungry worm. But the nematode remained intent on their trail, and forced its way through the mycelium close behind.
'But you see, the nemin coating the creature's body has a peculiar effect on the fungus. As soon as a nematode approaches, short branches sprout with loops at the ends.' The loops appeared, each about a foot in diameter. The worm ignored them, thrashing after the retreating men with almost mindless determination. Subble still did not feel at all comfortable so close to its eagerly sucking mouth.
But the loops became so profuse that they were unavoidable. The men pushed them aside, but the nematode didn't care; it poked its front end into one and came on, sliding through it easily. But the thicker central part of its body jammed; the loop was just too small to permit free passage. The creature struggled, attempting to withdraw or squirm on through the construction - but the loop inflated like a rubber tire and pinned the worm securely about the middle.
Now there was furious thrashing. The monster whipped its head and tail back and forth with frightening violence, but the booby-trapped ring only bound it more tightly. The nematode was far larger and heavier than the fungus, but it was not anchored and its leverage was poor in this position. It was unable to break the narrow band.
Gradually its struggles diminished, and it expired.
'Some species of fungi touch sticky knobs to the worm, holding it down, then grow strands into its body to consume its innards. Others deposit spores that germinate and parasitize it,' Cal said, watching the dying worm dispassionately. 'In any event, it is indeed the third kingdom that saves our crops, in this important instance, and so is the protector of our wealth, much more significantly than your hoard of gold. It kills animal parasites, and in many cases sets up symbiotic relationships without which even mighty trees could not flourish. We have just seen an omnivore fall prey to something it didn't even notice was dangerous, but that is only one aspect of the story.'
That was significant. An omnivore brought down by a seemingly innocent fungus. Even through the layers of hallucination, he perceived the stress Cal placed upon the concept. Man's appetite was very like the worm's. 'Evidently you have been researching the matter.'
'I reviewed it, at any rate. After Nacre, I had to. The representatives of the third kingdom are primitive, here, perhaps because there is always food for them and further evolution is not essential to survival - but they remain the best key to the advanced species there. I haven't begun to cover the economic importance this kingdom has for Earth. We use molds in industry to synthesize the acids employed in the manufacture of plastics, new paints, photographic developer, bleach, ceramics, monosodium glutamate ... fungus to break down petroleum and detergent... electric batteries powered by yeast action. And the wealth of knowledge provided in the laboratory: molds and bacteria are the most primitive organisms containing DNA, the basic molecule of life.'
'Wealth indeed,' Subble said, impressed. The DNA/RNA researches were leading to tremendous breakthroughs in the life sciences already. 'But I'm not certain how this will help me to complete my mission.'
'It is not my place to tell you that,' Cal said soberly. 'But my hope is that somewhere in this demonstration you will discover the clue I couldn't. We should be better able to understand the advanced fungi once we study the primitive ones. I'm afraid we made a bad mistake on Nacre, but I can't bring myself to define it and have no idea how to undo it. That is what you have to learn - and I think only the manta can complete the picture for you. You must learn to communicate on its terms, as you are now learning to do so on mine.' 'So I understand.' And that would be the reason for the drug. Cal could have presented the material directly, but not the experience of the hallucinogen, the training in personal submersion in order to respond to another person's slightest concept.
With an alien, there might be no standard communication, and the nuance response would become all important. He was mastering the technique now - but he certainly would not have wanted to practice while facing the manta.
'Let's check the other rooms,' he said.
They expanded to normal size. 'Was it not a mushroom Alice ate in Wonderland, to change her size?' Subble inquired, requiring no answer. The third kingdom was pervasive, now that he had become aware of it as such.
'Health,' Cal said at the next door. 'Most people are aware of mycotic infection - ringworm, athlete's foot, histoplasmosis - but don't realize how much more they owe to fungal antibiotics and drugs. You saw an array of healthy people - but how many would have stayed that way without penicillin and the other fungoid derivatives?' He opened the door.
A foul odor wafted out. The chamber was rilled with a monstrous bubbling vat, churned constantly by a mighty paddle wielded by the grinning genie. 'Surprise!' Myco cried. This is where I live.'
It was penicillin mold, stimulated to grow in aerated nutrient fluid.
Cal closed the door, cutting off the smell. 'Not to mention the work still being done with yeasts in connection with radiation sickness and cancer and memory restoration.'
'Or with mental health, via the mind-opening drug therapy,' Subble added. That's a little fungoid trick I will not forget in a hurry.'
There was a clap of laughter from the health chamber; Myco, it seemed, appreciated the feed-back.
'Or mental control,' Cal murmured. 'Knowledge does have its dangers.'
They stood before the door of the chamber of food. 'Let me guess,' Subble said. 'Edible mushrooms of splendiferous variety: morel, puffball, shaggymane, polypore, truffle ... and breads leavened, liquor fermented, cheese ripened, all by virtue of yeasts and fungi cultures.'
'Only partly,' Cal said, smiling. 'I could add the biblical manna from heaven to your list, since that was another fungus product that people have eaten directly in time of need, but I was thinking along another line. Actually, it is not necessary to give up your original banquet. I can double or triple it via the third kingdom.'
'By feeding mushrooms to livestock?'
'By feeding garbage to yeast.'
'Don't open that door!' Subble exclaimed. 'The penicillin was bad enough. Let me remember my banquet as it was. Just tell me about it.'
This time Cal laughed. 'The processing is rather interesting, but I admit there are uncomfortable elements. Even our sewers have become marvelous fonts of nourishment.' But he dropped his hand from the knob.
'Today there are six billion human beings on Earth, and not more than ten percent are actually hungry. We're feeding our population better than ever in spite of its appalling growth rate. You can't do that on steak, no matter how brutally you intensify your farming. A steer yields less than a pound and a half of dried beef for every hundred pounds of feed provided it, and it takes many months to do it, and copious rangeland if you insist on a really healthy product. Much of what those impacted livestock batteries turn out is technically unfit for human consumption: tasteless, non- nutritive meat contaminated with residual insecticides and deleterious hormones.' This seemed to disturb him more than the idea of food from sewage.
'A pig yields six pounds of pork for the same bag of feed, and does it in less time and much less space,' Cal went on. 'But still there isn't room or food for the porcine billions that would be required to feed us if that were the major dietary staple. Other animals are no better. Plants are more efficient as food converters - barring nematode infestations! - but there is only so much arable land. We use artificially illuminated interior farms, multi-leveled, certainly, and we also farm the sea and to a limited extent the atmosphere but our biggest single source of protein today is torula yeast.'
'Yeast? Straight?'
'Not exactly the variety that makes bread rise,' Cal said. 'But the principle is the same. Torula feeds on almost anything organic - refuse from sawmills, molasses, rotten fruit even petroleum and cool tar.'
'Another omnivore!'
'You could call it that, yes. It produces sixty-five pounds of edible solids for every hundred of feed, which is ten times as good as any animal, and what it consumes is foodstuff that would otherwise be largely wasted. And it does it on no more land area than that required to support the vats, multiplying its original weight many times in a single day. It can be mixed with other foods, indistinguishable by taste and rich in nourishment. Hah5 of what we eat today is in fact processed from varieties of torula - and the average man doesn't realize it. Your turkey, your stuffed pig - if those were standard brands, much of their weight was textured and sculptured torula protein. A lot of artistry goes into blending it.'
'It must,' Subble agreed, 'if the banquet in my own imagination is made from fungus I didn't know about!'
'You're in good company. Our spacemen are fed their own waste products, broken down by the yeast. Anyway, this is the true breadbasket of the world - and man can no longer survive at his present level without the generous assistance of the third kingdom.'
They mounted the steps and emerged upon the terrace. 'That's it,' Cal said. That's what the third kingdom means to Earth. Remember that Nacre is an advanced fungus world; it is billions of years ahead of us in that respect. Somewhere in all this information is the key to disaster, perhaps, for all of us.' He stooped beside the lamp, still quietly burning, and snuffed out the little flame.
Almost immediately the nether staircase faded. 'No residual effect?' Subble inquired, indicating the lamp.
'Not with this dosage. You would not want to overdo it, however. None of the hallucinogens are mere amusements.' He considered for a moment. 'I'm not sure what would happen if a person ever became entirely subservient to this drug. It isn't addictive, theoretically, but it's potent stuff. We sat about a yard from it, which diluted it sufficiently, but if you inhaled directly over the flame-'
'My antibrainwash syndrome could trigger selfdestruction,' Subble finished.
'Yes. It would in effect give you a psychoneurotic disorder, and you haven't been conditioned to it as we have.'
'You showed me all this for a reason - not just background or practice. What reason?'
Cal would not meet his gaze. 'I lack the courage to tell you. I hope most urgently that I am wrong - but you must discover that for yourself, then do what you must. Perhaps you will find, incidentally, some solution for our more personal problems.'
Subble nodded. 'I promised to help Aquilon, too. That's really the price for your cooperation. I'll do what I can. But first I'll have to take your lamp and your communication device and go to meet the manta directly. That is where it will end.'
'I don't know whether to wish you success or failure.'
'One other thing,' Subble said. 'I want your segment of the Nacre adventure. I only have part of the story so far.'
'Yes - there is that,' Cal agreed wearily. 'I had forgotten. We'll have some torula pancakes and. . .'
* * *
Hours later, away from the stench and gore, they camped on another thin ledge and spread out on the ground. Veg and Aquilon were tired, and quiet for their own reasons; the manta was as inscrutable as ever. It had fed upon the omnivore's carcass, absorbing the juices through its digestive underside, and now seemed content to relax. Aquilon had looked at the remains and decided to continue eating fungus after all. Only Cal was possessed of new strength.
'Do you know,' he said, 'that manta must be the most formidable fighting machine on the planet! Did you see the way it cut apart the omnivore? Our rifle didn't faze the monster, but the knife-edged tail of the manta slashed it to pieces. And the omnivore knew it; it was afraid.'
'We - didn't see all of it,' Aquilon said. 'But why doesn't the manta attack us?' Her motive seemed to be more to encourage him than genuine curiosity. 'Why does it keep Veg away from me, and not from you?'
'I've been thinking about that,' Cal said. He was buoyed by some nameless excitement, as though the horrible
encounter had released him from a coma. He would have to explore the reason. Could it be some invigorating chemical in the omnivore blood he had eaten - or had the revelation of his vice brought relief instead of shame? No, there was something else, something highly significant, that he could not pinpoint yet. 'I've also been wondering why the herbivores weren't afraid of the manta. And I think I have the answer.'
Veg stared morosely into the ground, facing away from Aquilon. Something had passed between them, something Cal didn't know about, that left both pensive. But what? There had been no tune for any private dialogue, and the battle with the omnivore should not have prejudiced their interpersonal relationship.
The entire complexion of their little group had somehow been changed. Veg had been dominant at the beginning of the adventure, running the tractor and determining their route back toward the camp. Then, with the slaughter of the first manta, Veg had given way subtly to Aquilon, the artist and anatomist. Now the immediate problems of survival for. the three of them had been surmounted, and their eventual return to the base seemed probable - if they could grasp the special nature of their contact with the manta. Obviously it could kill them all, and might do that, if they gave it incentive. Now was the time for intellectual exercise, for problem solving on other than a physical basis. Now it was Cal's turn to be dominant. But that was not the source of his exhilaration.
Of Man and Manta Omnibus Page 12