Some strange stone or hive space. A thousand acres of mushrooms, tended by a herd of... zebras? What are those shapes between the limestone icicles? Rump of an okapi? Monkey-cats? What forest burned down, and pushed them underground, here into the secret salt-cave of the elephants, where now they have learned to eat new types of fruit, and (for survival's sake) live for the bees as the aphids do for the ants (well, it's a job, this mushroom tending, says the zebra to its' mate, end of the day, back at the stone shack the bee-company gave them both to live in, set at the poorer edge of the great cave     Both qualities were fluid, the products of powerful thought- machines that worked behind the scenes here, powered by the raw energy that the bees emitted.