“That’s okay if you accept it. It’s all right to feel de-
pressed all the time if you feel good about it. Why can’t it
be fun to feel depressed? If that’s how your environment
makes you feel, then if you feel that why it means you’re
in tune with your environment, and that should make you
feel good, and secure, and confident.”
Roseroar’s expression reflected her confusion, but she
said nothing. Mudge just sat quietly, shaking his head.
But they were thinking, and it kept them from growing
dangerously listless again.
“Hey,” murmured a purple toadstool, “maybe it is
okay to feel down and dumpy all the time, if that’s what
works for you.”
“That’s it,” said Jon-Tom excitedly. “That’s the point
I’m trying to make. Everything, every entity, is different.
Just because one state of mind works for us ambulatories
doesn’t mean it ought to work the same way for you. At
least you aren’t confused all the time, the way most of my
kind are.”
“Far fucking out,” announced one enlightened truffle
from beneath a clump of shelf fungi. “Existence is point-
less. Life is decrepit. Consciousness sucks. And you know
what? I feel good about it! It all fits.”
“Beautiful,” said Jon-Tom. “Go with that.” He put his
hands on his hips and turned a circle. “Anybody else here
have any trouble dealing with that?”
78
Alan Dean Foster
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
79
“Well, we do,” said a flotilla of mushrooms clinging to
a scummy pile of dead weeds near a small pool.
“Tell me about it,” said Jon-Tom coaxingly.
“It started when we were just spores. …”