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Darmon puts a hand against the closed door, and it opens back up. A flood of chatter arrives again, and he finally remembers how loud it is to be fungal. A glowing light leads him to Vai. She’s still at the clinic, finishing up her task before turning to hear his report.

“From what I can tell, she’s just as I remember. Her personality was more ambitious than I was, and that seems to work well to nest alpha motes,” his report was taken well, the network informing him that Vai was smiling.

“I did have one request. Do you have more food? More of my people will want to eat soon, if they haven’t already,” Darmon feels that strange, secondhand embarrassment from others in earshot, but Vai seems very professional about it.

“Of course. That is completely understandable. We may have to call for communal provisioners from a public kitchen, as our staff is busy with the new treatment,” her light orange hand touched a wall and Darmon could swear the wall blushed. What is with this place and unspoken rules?

He wondered why a hospital wouldn’t have food for the day-to-day, but attempted to keep that thought for himself. A large influx of human patients was not their typical clientele, and fungi might not eat as frequently.

In any case, he was happy to greet the chefs that arrived. The first he recognized as a variant of a Server. In humans, gender presentation can be shown by clothes, physicality, and vocal patterns. In this mushroom species he studied, he noticed that the same genotype can express different phenotypes. In short, a server mushroom can be grown (from an alpha or a beta spore) as a server, but later in life or even from the beginning, their body can take shape as the more common deer-like faun, such as the nurses running around, or can grow into another server silhouette.

That silhouette before him was an Oyster, or at least that's what Darmon deemed it when he first discovered the phenotype variations. He had frills that became an apron over his hefty belly, and his burly shoulders were relaxed.

"Hello, I've heard all about you, Darmon." The portly mushroom shook his hand, his layered shoulder-frills wiggling at the enthusiasm of his two-fisted handshake.

"So your culture has handshakes, too?" Darmon raised an eyebrow in surprise, his emotions and surface-level thoughts racing over to the Oyster chef through the direct channel created by the physical greeting.

Garden, was his name, guffawed boisterously, "No, not really. But I work in public service, so apologies if I pick up your mannerisms before you teach me them. It's in the job description to make you feel as comfortable and welcome as possible."

Darmon could imagine that someone confident in the network could find out quite a bit of information on any individual. Privacy was at a premium in the deep dark.

He ventured a brave proposition as their handshake lingered, "So what do you do for work?" And opened it up for sharing through the direct connection.

As Garden could sense his intention so clearly, he showed him. Images flashed before Darmon's eyes. Nay, they faded into clarity in front of him, welcoming him to view. Soon, sound followed, then smell. He was cooking in a kitchen, taking bottles off the shelves and pouring thin lines on a plate. A hand, Garden's own, extended from the memory's point of view, spinning the plate so that the delicate flow spiraled onto the final dressings of the food.

"It's beautiful," Darmon could feel the pride through the memory, almost as if it was his own.

"That's just a taste," Garden's booming laugh fills the room again, as a result of his own pun.

"Do you taste test your own work?" Darmon ponders, not sure if he's even asking things aloud at this point. However, that connection ends as the handshake loosens and falls.

"Ah, nothing from the dish being served. But I might try it while it's still being made, and only if it's for a special set of customers," Garden's voice came through to Darmon, deep yet gentle.

The lack of the connection was still lingering to Darmon, as if he suddenly couldn't tell if Garden was beating around the bush or not. On the surface it seemed like a direct answer, but the void that the connection left behind gave him a peculiar feeling.

Darmon clears his throat, "Right. Well, I'd love to shadow you, if you didn't mind. Maybe help prepare some, if there aren't too many cooks in the kitchen."

"Did you sense I'd ask that? I'd love some help, especially because you know your people best," Garden gave him a pat on the back, "And we do have a few other cooks already moving ingredients back there, if you'd like to help carry."

Sure enough, Garden guided him to a side door. There he saw a chef or helping hand moving a box. They nearly looked like a Scholar, like the doctor that helped during the triage. Only, the shape was different, and the colors were much more vibrant than the stained black of one bound to the feather and quill. Perhaps a variant of another gender, or just a simple variation of a scholar type.

"There's three more of these," the lilting vocalization of the vibrant ink-stained shroom called over their shoulder while carrying a box.

The network wouldn't give an answer out here, but Darmon picked up a box that looked similar and carried it in. Upon entry, he learned that their name was Fry.

Fry had lifted the lid off the box and was busy unpacking the materials onto the shelves. Darmon wasn't sure he could help with the organization, so he deposited the full box near the quickly emptying one and returned outside for another.

It wasn't long until all the boxes were in the kitchen. A third chef had joined them, carrying the final box. This one was similar to Garden in silhouette, though Darmon could nearly swear that she had a more feminine shape. From his understanding, that was a human trait.

If he was anyone else, he wouldn't have questioned it. Vyren, the plus-sized woman before him, greeted him, opening her arms for a hug this time. That was very human.

He accepted it, and it all became clear in an instant. Just as Garden had learned to handshake before even meeting Darmon, Vyren had developed a shapely figure recently.

"As soon as Garden shook your hand, we could see who you imagined we would be. It's quite unusual for one to figure it out, though! At least on their own, without the network divulging our secrets..." Vyren chuckled, as the embrace gave her the full story as well.

"Well, yes, under observation, we never saw masculine or feminine traits in your species. It seems like humans have already left their mark in this first contact," Darmon almost felt ashamed on behalf of their ongoing cultural contamination.

She squeezed tighter, "Not a thing to be ashamed of. We work with all types, and new experiences are just a part of the love of it all."

She released, and moved her hands to his shoulders as she kept him at arms length to look him in the eye, "Though, not everyone will be so quick to change. Public service is a uniquely qualified job for fluidity, and we do our best work when making successful connections between those who may be quite different from each other."

Darmon nodded in agreement, "I've noticed the same from the hospital."

Vyren meanders, "Similar, though their focus is more on personal care. We work with healing or maintaining connections."

"Food service?" Darmon couldn't quite make the jumps in logic to connect what she said.

"Oh, of course. Let's call that the centerpiece, the physical representation of our work. But the rest is in helping others communicate with each other, to help foster the love they feel for one another. The food is wonderful, but the lasting impact we make is with the people who share our meals with each other." Her voice almost retained a poetic quality, like her chest was filled with love.

Darmon could see how sharing a meal could be like building community. She released her hands and they turned their attention to the preparation of that centerpiece. The ingredients had been sorted out by Fry and Garden.

"Would you all like to start?" Fry said, almost nervously looking at Darmon. Vyren placed a comforting hand on Darmon, as one would when introducing a friend to a new group.

"Darmon would like to shadow for this one, though he is open to being our muse, since he knows those whom the meal is for," Garden spoke for Darmon, carrying information from their prior conversation.

Fry nods seriously before rooting themselves into the floor. Darmon's eyes watch wide in wonder as the beautiful colors dripping off their body spread across the room, in multicolored mycelial feelers.

"We are aware of some of the connections between your people, and they have already been moved in rooms together. Some of them are new to being a mote-human, so they might not have shared enough information with us to put them all together. We could use your help with the remainders. We will show them to you."

Darmon could barely notice which one of the three was talking, as the roots had wrapped around his ankles and communicated with him directly. It was like a much stronger version of Orren. Inescapable, even.

Images of the new Mote-humans flashed before his eyes. No, again, it was a welcoming clarity as he focused on what was being shown to him. Some of them, he knew who they were friends with or family, and the matches were made quite easily. They were building a tree of relationships, and all Darmon had to do was think of his community as he knew it.

Some of them had broken hearts, and Darmon knew why. They had lost their loved ones, either above the ground or in the descent below it. The latter burned in Darmon's heart too, as he felt the pressing guilt of leading the refugees to the depths.

The connection between the four of them held firm, and Darmon felt like he was being propped up by an emotional safety net. The feelings he was going through were acknowledged, welcomed even, as they needed to know in order to learn how to serve his community the best they could.

The last few members that were still unknown were those even Darmon wasn't the most familiar with. The chefs had a plan for that too, as they simply connected their smaller network with Orren, and opened a channel to ask them.

This is where Darmon learned that they could ask questions indirectly, without the person even consciously answering. That's how Yule was able to know so much before he even entered her room.

The group of chefs assured him if they asked anything too private, that the question would easily surface to their conscious mind. That, or Orren would get embarrassed on the person's behalf and ask them for permission beforehand.

Well, too private must be subjective, or a bit more private than in human culture. The answers coming in were all news to him. He learned of crushes, betrayals, secret relationships during ongoing relationships, and the works. It would have been far too much information for him to process if he hadn't been entangled in this cooperative mind. The others were far more experienced, catching the information like a net.

"Don't worry, info only comes in, they can't hear each other's responses. And for the secrets, they would get suppressed even if we tried to share them out. Some people are more giving with their secrets, but others may still retain theirs. You might not remember any of this after the responses finish, but we will know the ones that make our decisions in the kitchen," Fry opened their eyes to meet with Darmon's, still wide but now with interest at the explanation.

Sure enough, after the deluge of information was over, the most critical connections shined through as the rest faded away. Most of them Darmon knew, even was the one who explained it to the group, but a few new ones still shined brightly. Darmon was almost giddy at the idea of these new relationships, with so much potential.

"Isn't that the most beautiful sight?" Garden's laughter boomed yet again, his amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes, "The ones with potential are my favorite, too. Crushes, you called them?"

Darmon nodded, "Or squishes, if they want to be friends."

"So now we have the ones we will prepare dishes for," Fry nodded, their mycelium now painted in the same pattern of connections that they saw in Darmon's community. Only the strongest connections were painted, which gave Darmon a pause.

"Sorry, just these? Shouldn't we make food for everyone? They will all become hungry if they aren't already."

He was used to having that word make others blush, but either it was from this intense connection through Fry or that the food service workers were used to type of talk in the field, they didn't react as strongly as the medical workers.

"Oh honey, usually people don't get hungry for a meal with those types of connections. Meals are from an intimate sort of love," Vyren explained as if talking about the birds and the bees to a child.

Now it was Darmon to get embarrassed in this situation. Intimacy? Hunger? They couldn't possibly mean...

"Eating food is sexual?" Darmon asked as bluntly as it crossed his mind. Well, at least he was in understanding company.

"Yes, of course dearie. Is it not sexual in human culture?" The culture barrier became apparent to Vyren and the rest of the group.

Darmon laughed at the prospect, "Actually, it would only be sexual for a small minority of humans, and even then it's in particular contexts and is very situational."

Garden shook his head slowly, his frills wobbling a bit and then going back to shake with laughter, "For a group that just convinced you that all our most important work is with connections; it looks like we failed to fully understand how different humans can be!"

Darmon nods along, finally the awkward encounters relating to food were recontextualized one by one as he realized that meals are the fungal equivalent of sex.

"Yes, we eat every day for sustenance. I suppose we can go a bit longer when we have our motes, but from my meal earlier today, I can tell you it still feels like it's working with our new biology similar to how it used to. It gives us energy." His explanation was patient now that he knew there was a cultural divide.

"It gives us energy too, though I mean the collective 'us'. Any of our members can have meals together and the whole network benefits. It's a beautiful way we all benefit from positive, healthy relationships." Vyren dotes on him again. She really was spot on with her welcoming form, her motherly personality might have even been shaped by his expectations.

What an unusual, delightful world they have ended up in. There was a lot of learning to do.