The first hyphal link? Imagine it as a nerve graft between planets. For Benny and Elara, who were stuck at the monitoring post—basically, a small room built around the bright, thick cord where it entered Sanctum—it wasn't about data; it was more like a constant dizziness. They were the ones through whom a new planetary feeling was coming alive.
"This isn't a thought," Benny said, his white knuckles contrasting with the console as he tightly held it. "It's a… like, a state of being. The Wastes are thirsty. Not in words, just a gut-level, absolutely clear need for the mineral stuff the Reclamator just sent."
Elara agreed with him, her gaze distant. "And the Reclamator… it's done. Not happy, just… full, and running smoothly. Like a machine that got the right fuel." She put her hand on the pulsing cord; the little crystals implanted in her skin lit up in response. "It's an agreement, but it feels… polite."
They did not miss a thing: sound waves, exchange rates, even the strange psychic vibe. Their report looked like a cross between an instruction manual and a poem. Maxine immersed herself in the data, modifying the Reclamator's output. Lucien focused on the poetic part, considering it as a medium for communication between different species.
Between them, the was perfect. Actually, it was better than perfect—it was stable. After receiving a positive response to its first attempt, the mycelial network began hinting at more things. Not with words, but with its growth and the way the pressure changed. It softly pushed them toward a blocked duct in Sanctum and showed them bad soil in the Wastes that could benefit from some compost.
It was a silent dialogue with the environment. The Stewards came to know that they were not just the rulers anymore; the land was talking to them, and it spoke in terms of needs and gives, not commands.
Naomi, the one who took care of resources, started holding planning meetings with a Symbiote tendril-keeper and a large, glowing fungi map that showed the places where things were needed or possible. She learned to tell the difference between a real disaster (like a fungal infection, indicated by rapid red pulses) and a suggestion (like the perfect place for a crystal nursery, indicated by gentle amber pulses).
"I'm negotiating with a forest," she told Bianca one night, while she was rubbing her head. "And the forest is better at logistics than I am."
Bianca replied with a tired smile, "It's had longer to think about it."
The problem, as always, was putting too much trust in it. If they merely followed the network's suggestions, would they be swapping one kind of control for another? The old Cult used to follow the Final Nectar. Would everybody now follow the Green Dream?
Joan, whose strength was gradually coming back but whose mind was as sharp as ever, brought this up during a Stewards meeting. "We have to be the ones who stay in control. This is only a tool, a partner, not the boss, " she said.
Lucien, however, was skeptical. "But then, what are we in control of?" he wondered. "If the ultimate goal is the health of everything—including us—then doing what is most would not be wrong simply because the network suggested it."
This was their dilemma. They were literally constructing the plane while they were flying it, and now the air was giving its opinion on the design.
Benny and Elara were the ones who felt the weight of the situation most. As the translators, they could feel not only the network's vast and benevolent intelligence but also the human fear of losing their individuality in the green.
One night during a break from their duties, Elara said, "It doesn't want to devour us, Benny. What it really wants is… to infold us. Just like a breath you take. You don't think about it, it's simply part of you."
"But a breath is only for a limited time," Benny murmured while watching the cord pulse. "It comes in, becomes part of you, then leaves. What if we go in and there is no way out? What if we just... end up being the body?"
That was the big question. The invitation was there. That first, scary, exciting step was already behind them. What was left would depend on whether they could learn to dance with a partner who was also the floor, the music, and the air.