Haim and Jeul 3

(Earth, on a hilltop outside a ruined city)

Haim: Are we transitional or extinct?

Jeul: In the big scheme of things? Who knows. We said: it doesn’t matter.

H: I know, I’m just wondering . . . can’t we will ourselves one way or another?

J: Why, yes. We do it all the time; constantly I’d say.

Then let’s not go extinct, okay?

Okay! Good plan.

. . .

Beautiful sunset. Wonderful view we have.

That’s it?

It is a grand view.

I mean: ‘Okay, let’s not go extinct.’

And I meant: Let’s not.

How do we prevent extinction from happening to us?

You live. You breed. You work. You make something of the world, or you make something of yourself.

What’s this ‘you’ about? I’m just a speck. There are jillions of us. It’s not about me or ‘you’.

It isn’t?

Well. We are awfully clever and all, but that’s just us together.

Indeed. I’ll tell you, though, that only sometimes is it you and your species.

But it must be always, because isn’t it all about reproduction? Having offspring that have offspring that have offspring and forever more, isn’t it?

What’s a species?: organisms biologically capable of reproducing with one another. What’s the definition of life?

‘Surprises’?

Do you know about the fungus and the ant?

Oh, I know this story; this horrible, horrible story. It’s the fungus whose spores take over the ant’s nervous system, isn’t it? Turns her into a zombie.

The fungus spore gets in the ant through her spiracles – it gets breathed in. It starts to cannibalize her body, using only nonessential tissues as fuel for its tendrils of mycelium, which eventually reach her brain and alter the way she detects pheromones –

I know the rest – the fungus drives her up the stalk of a plant, she dies, the nasty thing fruits, explodes, and releases spores all over again. You describe it so clinically, but I’m not sure that I even consider that to be a proper form of life, not for the ant at any rate. She’s undead now!

No. She’s a piece of the life of the fungus. She is the spore’s reproductive organ.

That would sound ludicrous, if it weren’t so horrible – and coming from you.

There are many kinds of fungus that do this, and each one of them may only infect – that’s just a word, like ‘undead’ and ‘species’ – one species of ant or other insect. This is because the fungus’ genetic code is attuned only to the enzymes, pheromones, nerves, and muscles of its own insectoid reproductive organs.

Well, then, the fungus still just reproduces spores of its own kind.

Yes, spores, but spores that are indelibly stamped with the genetic code of ants: It’s not predation – it’s more like capturing your genitals. What’s the ‘us’ for the fungus? For the worker ant, who is, in terms of species, just an unreproductive female?

She’s reproductive now! – but in such a sinister way.

You’re just uncomfortable with cyborgs.

H: And why shouldn’t I be? They’re not this and they’re not that. How much of a cyborg is actually alive?

J: Oh, fine, I have a tamer example.

Haim: Please!

Jeul: Have you ever heard the term, ‘cat lady’ before?

(image: ant's brain, from The Amateur Scientist 3.0)