THE HUNT

Monarch of the Glen. The Spirit of the Forest and the Mountains.

I went into the kitchen, to have a cigarette, and realised I had been attacked and eaten by the plasmate. In  Valis, Phillip K. Dick writes;

Lurking, the true God literally ambushes reality and us as well. God, in very truth, literally attacks and ambushes us in his role as antidote. As Fat can testify to, it is a scary experience to be bushwhacked by the Living God.

Fat came to the conclusion that it had invaded our universe; and a year later he realized that it was consuming – that is devouring – our universe.

The plasmate had devoured me, and had become my world. I looked for a light for my cigarette, and the plasmate became a box of matches in my pocket. I hestitated lighting one of these living matches on fire, until I realised that the plasmate was the fire also. All around me objects moved and flickered out of the corner of my eye. If I took off my coat and left it down, it became the plasmate. It was as though anything that touched the floor was subsumed into the vast and ever expanding body of the plasmate. A very similar fate befell Oisin, a famous Irish hero, when he fell from his horse on his return from Tir na nOg, and like the promise of Tir na nOg, the plasmate extended its offer of immortality. An excerpt from PKD's Valis;

Normally it remained camouflaged. Normally when it appeared no one could distinguish it from ground – set to ground, as Fat correctly expressed it. He had a name for it.

Zebra. Because it blended. The name for this is mimesis. Another name is mimicry. Certain insects do this; they mimic other things: sometimes other insects – poisonous ones – or twigs and the like. Certain biologists and naturalists have speculated that higher forms of mimicry might exist, since lower forms – which is to say, forms which fool those intended to be fooled but not us – have been found all over the world.

In more recent times, biologists have even theorized that there might exist a human form of the cordiceps fungus. When spores of this fungus invade the mind of an insect, or orthopod, they take control of its nervous system, forcing it to climb higher and higher, thus allowing for a maximum dispersal of spores. Recent research has suggested a link between schizophrenia and a parasitie carried in the gut of the ordinary house cat. This suggests that the effects of the human cordiceps analogue deals with reality adjustments or awakening.

Knowing this, I had to consider the possibility that the plasmate was a malignant parasite. It might, for instance, force me to throw myself in front of a train or out of a window, I thought. Then when an interested or concerned party drew near, the plasmate would dislodge itself and infect the nearest amongst them to begin the cycle all over again.

Stories of men going on the rampage and killing their entire family might also be attributed to this parasitic organism, I thought. Was I going to become just another one of those unsettling news stories that people listen to over breakfast? I had to find out in advance one way or the other.

Despite the plasmate being able to alter its form to mimic reality perfectly, the plasmate carrier is capable of discerning the particular flavour of energy that the plasmate exudes. It appears denser, stickier, more gravitic. It was for these reasons that I was able to discern that the plasmate had duplicated my own body. I was reminded, then, of the poem Come Away Oh Human Child, by WB Yeats that my father used to read to us one the lakes of Loch Ri. How could I know if the plasmate had substituted itself for my reality, or if it was just intimating the substitution, in the hopes that I would be provoked into lashing out, and by so doing hurt someone else?

The plasmate uses the brain as a female host, which means that its propensity to attack and ambush you is equivalent to a kind of interspecies rape.

The only words I know are good, ball, and rape.

(Handbanana; ATHF)

I knew that if the plasmate had substituted itself for my reality, then it also ruled over the law of chance and chaos, that governed my reality. Therefore, if I roled a dice, it could – in all likelyhood – bend the outcome in its favour; whatever that may be. Prior to this I had been making many decisions in life based on Luke Rhineheart’s dice therapy, whereby you wrote down a list of possible actions, letting the dice choose which one you would carry out. This was the first time I had ever included suicide on any list, albeit at a very low probabilty; a 1 in 36 shot. I did this knowing that if the plasmate expected me to kill myself it need only manipulate the dice to the desired outcome, and I would do the rest. Mercifully, the dice landed on some other outcome, which meant I was to forget the whole thing and live my life normally, as if nothing untoward were happening.

In the movie Spirited Away, a spoilt girl named Chihiro is transported, with her parents, to an enchanted world beyond the veil. At one point, Chihiro attempts to save her friend from a flock of paper birds called shikigami. Shikigami is a kind Japanese house spirit, or faerie, belonging to the genus Oni. These creatures are further related to the 12 Heavenly Generals of Eastern Mysticism. The plasmate, in its natural state has the appearance of a white bird, or shikigami. It is alive and yet it assumes the form of inanimate objects, blown by the wind i.e. paper cups and sweet wrappers.

With the help of the plasmate I was now able to comprehend what was written in the ancient sacred texts and accept them for truth. This ability is given by virtue of the plasmate affixing to the optic nerve; a process known as cross-bonding. On reflection it is not your vision which is augmented, but rather your comprehension and acceptance of the texts. One book which did not seem to be much effected was The Wild Hunt of Hagworthy, by Penelope Lively; a children’s story that I had interest in during the Autumn period. The underlying theme of this book was that unseen forces are at work in the world, and in order to combat them you must have awareness of folkloric traditions. One such tradition states that iron will disperse a fairie attack, and even break a faerie spell. Another stipulates cautious avoidance of the Meadowsweet plant, which is considered bewitched.

Having an interest in herbalism, I had collected a number of these plants during the months of June and July. I looked around my room now, and saw that it was covered in the dried stalks and flowers of Meadowsweet! Cursing myself for my foolishness, I gathered the plants up carefully and deposited them in the park across the road. Next I searched for anything made of iron, with which to dispell the faerie forces of the plasmate. All around me I saw signs of the displeased Host. I imagined they were disappointed that I had not decided to join their faerie ranks.

Where the bee sucks, I suck. In the cowslip bell I lie.

Perhaps a better metaphor for the plasmate, is that of a wasp or bee. In a woods behind my house is an abandoned beehive used by beekeepers to extract honey. As a child I remember regarding the floral patterns inlaid on the crown board with fearful reluctance. Being young, I was fearful of anything that might hurt me, so I often associated this pattern with the painful sting of the bee. Having only just recently visited these delapidated hives, I wondered if the plasmate had not lain in wait for me there, to bide its time to strike.

While talking to a friend of mine about dreams, he mentioned the possibility of navigating honey combed universes. Afterward, I considered the possibilty that these worlds had been constructed by an organism of some kind; and that that organism might be the plasmate. Being attacked by the plasmate is analogous to being stung by a bee. It drives people crazy, and may be the origin of the phrase; A bee in your bonnet. Given that the plasmate corresponds symbolically to both birds and bees, it may also be the origin of the phrase; the birds and the bees, which would of course mean that it has something to do with human procreation; perhaps aphrodisiacal?

Despite all this there are some who say that there are not enough bees/plasmates to go round. Very likely this is a reaction of the loss of the plasmate in 70 AD, with the destruction of the Temple. The plasmate is the Holy Spirit of the Trinity, and if it is not nurtured and loved the results, as seen in the last century, can be nothing short of catastrophic. The absence of the Holy Spirit in man gives rise to all kinds of irrational behaviours.

According to Eastern Religions, the attainment of enlightenment corresponds to the opening of the Lotus or Crown chakra. The plasmate finds this bloom distinctly irresistable and, therefore, flocks to pollenate it. When we consider that flowers have evolved their form to be especially attractive to insects, which are of an entirely different animal kingdom, it not so unreasonable that our own consciousness should develop the ability to attract an organism that evolved along similarly independantly lines; perhaps, even on some far-flung, distant world. The knowledge of the plasmate is like honey, or soma, to the awakened.


The net of the mind is encased in the net of the world, as such they are entangled and inseperable; except at the point of death. The manifold structure of my mind unfolds to form the world and reenfolds to form your mind, and vice versa. Everything is connected, via the net of mind. We are all one via the net of the world, and of the mind. For this reason it is easy to see how the plasmate can direct your thoughts until you are not only at peace with yourself, but at peace with all mankind in one homogenous mind. The hive mind of the Salvia plasmate, and the Godhead are one and the same. If you are nervous or out of sorts in the Godhead, people shift and bumble about. If you seek the gaze of any man he will return it with as much openess and warm-hearted feeling as you would to yourself, as a child.


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