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Fungi, Sex and Lies

Cordelia

A week before Summertime Madness

The LED lights hum with a low sterile whine, pulsing like a heartbeat in the stale humidity.

The cold stone floor bites into the soles of my feet as I walk towards my terrariums in my secret lab — an abandoned greenhouse tucked into the woods behind the university.

Something secluded and mine, approved with a signature from the department head.

I inhale, the sharp scent of earth and rain fills my lungs.

Rain slips from the cracked ceiling creating the perfect environment for thriving.

Damp and electric.

I lean in, my breath fogs up the glass as I look for Number 27.

She has begun to climb.

It’s two days post- exposure. She’s right on track. Every twitch is deliberate, like she knows what’s coming. Her body reaches the tip of a small tree branch I placed vertically in the soil, and then she stops.

Her small mandibles sink into the bark and go still.

No more twitches.

No more resistance.

Number 27 just holds. Letting out a deep sigh, I whisper to myself, “Stage three, behavioral override confirmed.”

I wait for a moment to see the small ant reach its final stage… a small tremor wracks through its delicate body when the first breach happens.

A small swelling forms right behind the head… bursting like a bubble–tiny threads of mycelium pushing outward. It’s so translucent you wouldn’t see it unless you knew what you were looking for, and I did.

God did I.

When it comes to fungi and plants, I think it’s safe to call me an expert. I have always loved being around plants, watching them sway in the wind. Learning their communication and fungi. Plants don’t speak– they touch. Heat. Scent. Vibration. It’s all a language.

This network of communication is called mycelium and thanks to this intricate network under the soil, even the trees can feel our presence.

Learning this as a child made me long for something I lacked – connection.

Something I didn’t understand till I met them.

The memory of that day evokes a small grin curling on my lips as I pick up the pen beside the tank, then slide the tip of it down the length of the glass container that holds my most prized possession–my ticket to achieving greatness.

Cordyceps.

Parasitic. Beautiful. Misunderstood.

Just like me.

They don’t just kill the host,but rewire their neural pathways completely–walking the host straight to their death. A truly scary and magnificent parasite. Number 27 didn’t die in vain–the queen shall rise again blooming into something so beautiful, the key to everything.

I hope so.

Like most of my nights, I’ll be busy harvesting instead of going out with the rest of my peers.

What can I say?

I’ve always preferred fungi over people, but even that’s a lie.

Fungi only destroys you once.

People do it slowly.

Repeatedly.

I should know .

Letting out a shaky breath, I shake off the small hint of sentimentality that scratches to the surface and focus on this…

This is my life’s work.

What I betrayed my heart for.

Creating the perfect specimen for my thesis.

I want perfect symbiosis — host and parasite sharing one will. But the front door creaks open, the small bell hanging from the door chimes alerting me to his presence followed by the soft sounds against the floor–slow deliberate footsteps.

“Anything new on your ant farm?” a familiar voice rings behind me, dark and husky.

“No, but the cold is significantly decreasing how quickly it spreads, but nothing is connecting.” I press my lips together, disappointment tightening my chest as I set the magnifying glass back down. “I wonder what else I can do?”

Closing my eyes, I brace myself for the smell of his expensive Dolce & Gabbana cologne to envelop me.

My professor, Daniel.

The man that will help me reach greatness without even knowing it.

You learn a lot when studying these parasitic fungi. Cordyceps manipulate behavior. They make the host crave what will destroy them.

I don’t just study that.

I perfect it.

And Daniel is my host.

A smirk tugs at my lips.

Nothing like preying off the weak mind of a man who thinks can steal from you. Daniel’s arms wrap tight around me, pressing my body into his. “Missed you in class today.”

What he really missed was the act—watching me pretend to squirm, when I notice the way he eye-fucked me from the podium. I’m ready for this to be over but I need them to come chase. I already left the bread crumbs for them to follow.

“I needed to come check on the ants, plus I can always go to you if I need you to teach me.” I emphasize the word teach with a press of my ass against his forming erection. Daniel inhales into my skin.

“Wicked little thing you are.”

“I’ve been called worse. Wicked is truly an insult to how my mind works.”

I tease as I pull away from him moving closer to another tank. I watch as the ant within begins to twitch as it walks on the small pieces of tree branch. The others already have made their ascent.

This one won’t last long.

Grabbing the magnifying glass, I lean in, knowing full well Daniel’s watching my ass.

The ant stops.

A thin, orange stalk splits through the base of its skull like a blade of sunset-colored grass coated in a wet sheen. Another has burst through its small thorax, and another curled out from its mandible –writhing, reaching.

It is terrifyingly beautiful.

Still not what I want.

The infection always wins.

Daniel steps next to me, crouching to look at one of the hives I’ve created. There’s a ten year age gap between us. He’s in his mid thirties– the perfect breeding partner–genetic viability and institutional access all in one lean vessel.

Too bad I didn’t want any of it.

Maybe the access. But once I succeeded with evolution, doors he could never crack open will be left wide open for me.

His place in my life is temporary.

It’s not like I needed more complications. This is business. A game. I already have to call mine— just not in public. But that’ll change.

“You added new ones?” His husky voice stops my train of thoughts.

“Yes, but they are already showing signs of infection, slower movements.” I stop myself, already hearing the disappointment in my voice. Daniel’s lips go thin as he inspects me, urging me to continue.

“Number 27 already climbed,” I confirm with a pout, putting on the show– the fantasy that I need him.

“What did you do differently?” he smiles, cupping my face in his large hand.

“Just the cold, I’m sure if I can somehow grow the fungi with some type of infused soil–” I look up through thick lashes, “maybe it will work.”

Daniel chuckles, a deep throaty sound. “You’re beautifully mad, and I’m certain you will get your results.”

No answer.

No confirmation of what I know… He already knows. Because he likes to steal precious information.

With that, he refocuses one of the ant farms I have stored in the large rectangular container.

The ants are fully under the parasite’s control–white and orange filaments breaching their joints, blooming along their tiny eyes and tiny little mouths.

Nothing but a vessel for the parasite to do the one thing that’s coded in their DNA.

Infect. Reproduce.

And maybe one day, obey.

“Nothing new, it’s been the same. I want to see if there’s anything immune to it,” I finally answer, ignoring his compliment and enthusiasm, as I place my hand on the glass, seeing the new ants I introduced last night already beginning to show signs of the parasite.

“Immune?” he asks, tilting his head. “You can’t stop the spread. This isn’t anything new, Cordelia. Why would you think otherwise? What changed in the controlled environment?”

I arch a brow.

For a moment, I contemplate telling him what I do differently, but as someone who blackmails others out of their own concept… I’d rather not.

Plus, no one needed to know because what I’m doing isn’t exactly legal.

If Daniel finds out I’ve been snooping around his things, twisting his study, it would grant him some power over this.

And that can’t happen.

For now he is still somewhat useful to me. Tuning him out I think to myself – replaying all the steps.

I’m missing something.

Despite crushing the infected queen’s body between my fingers and reintroducing it to a new colony that has the original fungi, nothing happens.

It slows the infection rate… but it wasn’t successful.

I know who I can ask but my ego places a thick heavy chain around that option. But one day, I will create the perfect specimen. I just need one to survive first for me to dissect. I need to create something similar to a cure–one that can create the perfect symbiosis of the parasite and the host.

That’s my thesis.

My big project.

The one that will change the military as we know it. But first, I need to find the right combination. I sigh, turning away from the glass as Daniel stands, his hands landing on my hips.

“Will you tell me, one day, what you’re doing?” he asks, kissing my exposed shoulder. I smile, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I would love to help you, offer some guidance.”

Pressing my body into his, I know it’s not the right time to bring it up, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

It’s a tricky move, but one that I need to make.

If I’m to create my form of evolution, I could use some of his knowledge but mostly access to his connections.

Ones that don’t know who I am or my father but will respect my intelligence and not the money.

“Maybe, I want to work on that secret project of yours?”

His brown eyes widened with surprise. He swallows hard, looking at me like I just admit to engineering his research behind his back.

“How?”

I lean into him, kissing him, seducing him so he can’t fully digest the lie I’m about to serve him. I’m not the only one hiding things.

He keeps secrets too.

Big ones.

“I saw an email about the Queen B project while grading papers,” I lie, pulling away and looking up at him.