Page 81 of Going Home in the Dark

“—I will thank you not to interrupt me again.”

“Thank you,” he said.

Britta’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Why are you thanking me?”

“Youthankedme, which is something I never thought I’d hear from you, so I’m thanking you for thanking me.”

“I didn’t thank you. I never would,” she said acidly.

“I distinctly heard you.”

“My clear implication was that if you could shut up, I might at some future date be of a mind to thank you. But you are a talkative moron, so I will never be required to thank you for your silence or anything else.”

Bobby shrugged. The professor was incapable of believing that anyone would mock her. The effort to do so was fun but unproductive.

“Now attend me carefully,” she said, “while I explain to you what you have thrust yourselves into and what will happen to you.Ourfungus is of a species never found anywhere but here. It has not been properly named—they simply call it Alpha—and its existence has not been revealed to any scientists except those who are employed by the Keppelwhite Institute. They are so highly paid that they will keep secrets—although in one sense or another, the institute also has them by the scrotum and will make them cry like babies if they eventhinkabout betraying the project. And what they’re thinking is at all times known.”

The joyful, rebellious spirit that had animated the amigos when they were fourteen now returned like a tide. Spencer raised a hand.

Britta glared at him, wordlessly demanding silence. However, when he waved his hand vigorously, she relented. “Yes, yes. What is it?”

“Are there no female scientists on the project?”

“Of course there are. Perhaps a quarter of them are women.”

“Women don’t have scrotums,” Spencer said, “so what part of the female anatomy does the institute have them by?”

“That is a ridiculous question.”

“Ah, so you don’t have an answer.”

“Mr. Truelove—”

“It’s dove. Truedove.”

Approaching the sofa, Britta said, “I have a different name for you, and it’s not as stupid and syrupy as your real one. Now, if you do not remain quiet, I will summon Wayne Louis Hornfly and have him eat you alive, starting with your hands.”

The threat alarmed the amigos. They shrank back on the sofa.

Their alarm amused Pastor Larry. Something that was apparently laughter issued from him, a sound like a chicken being strangled. “We’ll exterminateallthe artists, not just ninety percent of them. Painters, writers, actors, people who do origami. All of them, every last one. We will save the planet by greatly diminishing the plague of humanity and completely eradicating the disease of the arts.”

Britta began to stalk through the parlor once more, her silk robe swirling around her. “The fungus we call Alpha is the largest organism in the world. It extends under forty-two-hundred acres, almost twice as much as thepindling Armillariain Oregon. It weighs in the neighborhood of sixty thousand tons.”

“Obese,” said Bobby.

“And it is eleven thousand years old. This mass lies beneath a large part of Maple Grove and surrounding land. It was discovered thirty-seven years ago by researchers from Keppelwhite Algae and Fungi, which later merged with Keppelwhite Essential Substances.”

“A division of Keppelwhite Urine and Feces,” said Rebecca.

Britta would not dignify their interjections by admitting she had heard them. “It was at once recognized that there existed an immense potential for a new generation of powerful antibioticsand other drugs in the secretions of Alpha. Soon something more exciting was discovered.”

“A way to make you shut up?” Bobby asked.

“In any other species of fungi, every cell is identical to every other cell. The individual grows larger by a kind of cloning. In Alpha, however, there are many profoundly integrated smaller structures within the greater mass, and in every substructure, the genotype is unique, with far more genes and more complex proteins than in any other known fungus. Yet, amazingly, these individuals that make up Alpha operate as a single organism.”

At that moment, Britta was behind Pastor Larry. She reached over the back of his armchair and pulled at his shoulders. “Don’t slump.” Larry sat up straighter, but not straight enough to please her. She took hold of his ears. “Up, up. Stiffen your spine.” The reverend’s expression suggested that this pulling-on-the-ears business did not in the least embarrass or annoy him. In fact, he appeared to take pleasure in it, as if it were related to some more stimulating practice in which they engaged when alone.

Like substructures of an Alpha fungus, the amigos responded in perfect harmony; they kept their mouths shut, avoided looking at one another, and decided never to speak—or even think about—what ears might have to do with the couple’s lusty relationship.

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