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Rain Circles
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Slime tried shrinking down, but found it couldn't compress that much. So it spread itself out instead, thin as a blanket, and laid over the plants.
As it touched the leaves, it could hear them. The plants greeted Slime, not in words, but conveyed concepts nonetheless. Slime was peppered with warm thanks for bringing them into this dream.
"Dream?" Slime wasn't sure it had understood that right.
Yes a dream, the plants said. You live awake with ears that hear and eyes that see. We dream and grow and be. We could be more, though, if we had some more water.
"I'll see what I can do about that." Slime spread a little thinner to hear better. "But I think we'll have to wait until it rains."
The plants conveyed that this was acceptable. They would have no problems waiting. They were being well cared for by the bugs, in exchange for excess leaves and seeds.
"That's good. I was hoping you guys might- hang on. I'm hearing something strange, like a hiss under everything you're saying." Slime said.
The fungal network would like to speak with you, the plants said. Touch the soil and hear them. Plants usually talk to the bugs on the fungus' behalf. You may have to reach smaller to hear. They're thoughts are very small.
Slime stretched itself as flat as it could. Reaching between the plants it touched the soil.
No words at all, did Slime hear. Not even concepts now but impressions.
Water leaching through soil. The sun warming the earth. Mycelium wrapping around a rock.
And yet smaller voices, tiny but legion. The barest sparks of thought.
Up. More. Grow. Split. Eat. Move. Down. Bright. Move. Split. Grow. More. Split. Eat.
Slime felt as though it was sinking into a sea of voices.
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