The Mushroom Revelations

“Hey so, this is, like… safe and all, right Dr. H?” the eminently replaceable John Stevenson asked with burgeoning apprehension. 

“Don’t get familiar Stevenson, I’ve told you three times already, you are to call me Dr. Hymeno. Not ‘Dr. H!’” said the austere mycologist as he adjusted the straps on John’s wrists.

“Okay, man, but like it is safe, yeah?” John asked, bulging his eyes out to express his concern.

“Yes, yes, it’s safe—as safe as any psilly trip you’ve ever taken before. It’s just now we’re adding a computer component into the mix.”

“But I’ve never taken a psilly trip, Doc. Sure, I’ve smoked mulch and I used to take Mr. Z and the occasional drone-burst, but I’ve never messed with this heavy kind of stuff before. You know, the hallucinogenic stuff.”

“Enough, Stevenson! You’ve already signed the papers. We are to proceed with the experiment. And they’re not ‘hallucinogenic’, they’re psychedelic—a common and lamentable mistake. Hallucination, from the Latin alucinatus, is a wandering of the mind. Any products of such wanderings are taken to be erroneous concluded. ‘Psychedelic’, on the other hand, from the Greek psukhē meaning soul, life, breathe—where we get ‘psyche’—and delos, meaning clear or manifest, is a much more accurate term for our work here at Cubensis Cubed research facility. We are interested in clarifying truths revealed in our lab sessions of expanded consciousness by way of psychedelic mechanisms and artificial intelligence.”

“Okay, so then I’ve never done this heavy ‘psychedelic’ stuff before, whatever. But what’s going to happen to me in this whole thing?”

“Don’t—how have you—did you not listen while my assistant explained the entire process in detail? Did you sign a legally binding medical document without paying attention?!”

“To be honest doc, I may have been coming down off some zap-its from last night while that lady was going over the contract. I’m still cool to do the thing, I just want to know what’s up, you know?”

“It’s all pretty simple” Hymeno grumbled. “We just hook you up to the Q.E.D. and—”

“Wait, what’s that?”

“The Q.E.D.? Dear galerina, son! Q.E.D. is our brain-computer interface. It’s how we will analyze your psychedelic experience. The Q.E.D. will sift out truths represented in any deep revelations unfolded to you during the expansion of your consciousness. It will then interpret it and record it for us to utilize.”

“why is it called that?” John blurted.

“A brain-computer interface? Because it’s a machine that transmits electrical signals from your neurons and then translates them into interpretable data. That’s why we had to shave your head and consequently, why you’re wearing that chrome helmet full of input and output modules and strapped to that medical bench.”

“No, I meant why is it called Q.E.—wait why is it a brain-computer interface? If you’re gonna be downloading my consciousness or whatever, shouldn’t it be a mind-computer interface?”

“Your mind just is your brain, Stevenson, same difference. The term ‘brain’ is just more technically accurate to the science at play. We want precision in science, you see.”

“Wait, how is my mind the same thing as my brain, Doc? My brain is part of my body, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“But like, say my body is destroyed. I could totally imagine surviving the destruction of my body—including my brain. But… uh… I can’t even imagine me surviving the destruction of me, yuh know? That doesn’t make any sense at all. So, like, I am not my brain or my body if I can maybe survive the destruction of my brain or body or both… or whatever—but like my body can’t survive the destruction of my body. And I have experiences but does my body have experiences without me? I could see having an out-of-body-experience but like my body couldn’t have an out-of-body-experience. So then, aren’t the two things, mind and body, different things since they can’t both survive the same kinds of things and since they are capable of different things? Seems like maybe, I am a mind that has a body? That has a brain? So, shouldn’t you guys be trying to hook up into my mind and not my brain if you want to reach my experiences?”

Hymeno stood up and crossed his arms behind his back, trying to remain calm. “Listen, Stevenson, we are interested in the contents of your brain during your psychedelic conscious expansion, not beforehand. The conclusions of your folk philosophizing is of no consequence to me. We know what we are doing and we know what we are looking for. We expect to find deep truths in your psychedelic experience. Truths such as < we are all one interconnected being>, <We are the universe discovering itself>, <All religion is merely the grasping of the finite at the infinite; equally true, equally false>. We merely require empirical data to confirm our hypotheses. Since you are your brain, we shall be able to peer into your experience via Q.E.D. But even still, say you’re a mind or a soul or whatever you like, your brain would still be a kind of analog computer by which your spooky spiritual ‘self’ would interface with physical reality. So, we can still use the Q.E.D. system to interface with your ‘self’ by way of its interface, i.e., your brain. So, you see it really doesn’t matter in this case, you can follow the science or you can believe in your woo-woo soulish mind and the Q.E.D. will still provide us with what we need.”

“Alright man, whatever you say. But why is it called Q.E.D. again?”

“Just—that’s… that’s your last question, okay? After this we are running the experiment!” The exacerbated doctor said with more than a tinge of ire.

“Q.E.D. stands for qualitative experience diarist. And before you ask, yes it’s an artificial intelligence. Not that you’ll understand, but just to preempt any further interrogation, I’ll tell you that it’s a hybrid model; a blend between several logic systems, an evolutionary artificial life or ‘A-life’ system, and connectionist transformer neural networks. These three disparate systems work together to produce a kind of cognitive synergy wherein the outputs of your cognitive system can—well should—be collected, diagrammed, analyzed and interpreted to give us the meanings associated with your psychedelic experiences. There, happy?”

“Woah, man. You blew my mind, or like my brain, I guess. I’m brain blown! I guess Q.E.D. is easier to say than having to go around talking about diarrheaists and stuff huh?”

“Diarist! You dolt! Diarist! As in diary; as in a time-bound record of events and experiences! This isn’t a loose stool machine you fu—*sigh*—you silly boy. There, you have your answers, may we finally proceed?”

“Proceed away man, let’s pop some shrooms.”

“You’re actually going to be drinking this tea here my team and I have prepared” Hymeno produced a stereotypical Erlenmeyer flask containing 150 ml of a deep blue liquid.

“Why is it—”

“--Blue? Yes, of course you’d ask. Again, you’re not going to understand but it’s blue because psilocybe cubensis mushrooms develop an intense blue color upon injury through the degrading of psilocybin via phosphatase PsiP and the laccase PsiL which initiates said blueing. All you need to know is that the mushrooms turn blue through a natural process and this tea is a concentrated dose which will produce your expansion more quickly and reliably. Alright?”

“Yeah, man. Just wondering, yuh know?”

“Sure, now bottoms up Stevenson.”

*Stevenson gulped it down in one shot*

“Smithe, how are we looking? Has Q.E.D. found anything yet?” Hymeno squawked at his whited coated assistant.  

“Nothing yet, sir” said Smithe in servile anticipation.

“Well, stay alert. She should be feeding us data any second now.”

“Ope, here comes something, sir!”

“Read it, Smithe, read it!”

“Sir, it hasn’t been translated yet. When its finished its analysis and translation, Q.E.D. will sign its acronym, just as you instructed in your note to the programmers.”

“Just read it, I want to hear the initial contact with whatever lies beyond the prison of human perception!”

“It just says ‘MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN.’”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know sir, wait, here comes the translation:

“Translation: NUMBERED, NUMBERED, WEIGHED, DIVIDED.

- Q.E.D.”

“What do you think that means, sir?” the assistant asked.

“I have no idea. Stevenson what is this nonsense? What are you seeing right now?”

“Hey man, I’m totally trippin’ ballz over here. I see a giant hand and a bunch of eyesballs and wings behind it. I have no clue what’s going on. I see this building we’re in but it’s all smashed up and broken and a golden eternal kingdom is over there high on a giant mountain in the background. It’s glorious, man. It’s nuts!”

“Do you see anyone? Any humanoids at all? Perhaps a gnome of some variety?” Hymeno asked.

“No gnomes, man. There is a bright presence off to my right, though. It hurts to try and look at it. I can’t really turn and focus on it.”

“Ask it something profound! Ask it where we came from.”

“Okay man.”

“Smithe, get ready for the transmission!”

“Hhh-hey man I don’t think it’s happy with me. I don’t understand what it’s saying but I have like an impression that I’ve done something wrong, like I shouldn’t be here, or I shouldn’t have come here this way, or something.”

“Here’s the raw data sir, the translation is still forthcoming”

Vidscreen:  Ἀμὴν ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν, ὁ μὴ εἰσερχόμενος διὰ τῆς θύρας εἰς τὴν αὐλὴν τῶν προβάτων ἀλλὰ ἀναβαίνων ἀλλαχόθεν, ἐκεῖνος κλέπτης ἐστὶν καὶ λῃστής

A second later the translation came in:

“Translation: TRULY, TRULY, I SAY TO YOU, HE WHO DOES NOT ENTER THE SHEEPFOLD BY THE DOOR BUT CLIMBS IN BY ANOTHER WAY, THAT MAN IS A THEIF AND A ROBBER.

- Q.E.D.”

“What’s it say man? Is it mad at me for the path I took to him? I think it’s saying ‘Nadab Abihu’. What’s that mean? Does it think that’s my name?” John squeaked.

“Never mind, Stevenson. Just apologize for not using the Sheep door and ask it again where it came from. This may be at last be the answer we’re looking to confirm. The meaning of life and everything. Thee origin!”

“Okay, I asked. Did you get its response? I’m ready to be done man. This is too spooky for me.”

“Yes, the machine is working on it right now.”

Vidscreen: Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ Λόγος, καὶ ὁ Λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν Θεόν, καὶ Θεὸς ἦν ὁ Λόγος.

“Translation: IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD, AND THE WORD WAS WITH GOD, AND THE WORD WAS GOD.

-Q.E.D.”

 “God? What the panaeolus does ‘God’ have to do with this?” Hymeno snorted with a faux laugh intended to hide his unease. “Stevenson, stop thinking about religious mumbo jumbo, you’re tainting the experiment and we’re getting false data over here!” he bellowed at the petrified subject.

“I’m not religious, dude. I don’t know what you’re even talking about.” John snapped back at the doctor.

“Try asking it ‘what it is’ instead of where it came from.” Smithe interjected.

“Okay, I asked. But that’s it, man, unplug me and give me something to make it stop! I’m buggin’ over here!”

“Hang in there, Stevenson. A few more moments and we’ll have the answer!” Hymeno pleaded.

Vidscreen:

אֶֽהְיֶ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֣ר אֶֽהְיֶ֑ה

“Translation: I AM THAT I AM

-Q.E.D”

“Unplug him, Smithe” Dr. Hymeno barked at his assistant, “this experiment is over. It’s obvious the subject has some latent theology deep in his psyche that is corrupting the expansion of his consciousness and tainting all the data. The machine is an analysist and diarist, not a truth-teller. It’s obvious these results are fraudulent.”

“But sir, there’s nothing religious in Stevenson’s background. Nothing in the government reconnaissance logs suggest he holds to any form of theism. Shouldn’t we give more consideration to the findings?”

“They’re not ‘findings’, Smithe. They’re false results. If they were legitimate, they’d confirm our theories. These run directly contrary!”

“Sir, respectfully, I don’t think that’s how science works.”

“Don’t lecture me on the scientific method, you dim whit! Which one of us is the chief mycologist and which is a sniveling assistant?! Bring me a Psilocybe cubensis, now!”

“Sir, we’ve talked about this. It will harm the delicate instruments. The electrodes aren’t meant for that, even if some sort of panpsychism were true. It’s not the right tool for that job.”

“Bring. Me. A magic mushroom. Right now. Or I will smite your where you sit, Smithe!”

Smithe reluctantly brought a psilocybin mushroom from containment and placed it on the desk next to the keyboard.

Hymeno calmly walked over to the supine Stevenson, unplugged the input/output leads from his silver helmet, hit a smart pivot on his heels and lunged at the inert mushroom, jamming the leads into two sides of its pileus. “Tell me your damn secrets, mushroom!!” The frustrated doctor screamed with lunacy in his eyes.

“Sir this is madness! These instruments are unbelievably expensive. You’re going to damage them and set our research back months.” Smithe screamed.

“This is the research, Smithe! This is everything! I need answers!”

“Well, you’re not going to get any this way. Look! Nothing! There’s noth—wait… the machine, it’s whirring. It’s—it’s picking something up! Faint. But it’s coming through!

Vidscreen:

למנצח מזמור לדוד׃ השמים מספרים כבוד־אל ומעשה ידיו מגיד הרקיע

יום ליום יביע אמר ולילה ללילה יחוה־דעת

אין־אמר ואין דברים בלי נשמע קולם

בכל־הארץ ׀ יצא קום ובקצה תבל מליהם לשמש שם־אהל בהם

“More of that nonsense?! Don’t have that translated, Smithe! I don’t want to hear it. This whole project is a failure. It’s obvious the machine is broken and the subjects are poisoning the well.”

“Too late, sir, the machine is all finished.”

“Translation:

THE HEAVENS DECLARE THE GLORY OF GOD;

THE SKIES PROCLAIM THE WORK OF HIS HANDS.

DAY AFTER DAY THEY POUR FORTH SPEECH;

NIGHT AFTER NIGHT THEY REVEAL KNOWLEDGE.

THEY HAVE NO SPEECH, THEY USE NO WORDS;

NO SOUND IS HEARD FROM THEM.

YET THEIR VOICE GOES OUT INTO ALL THE EARTH,

THEIR WORDS TO THE ENDS OF THE WORLD.

-Q.E.D.”