reconstitute itself. This is what I now did, partly to satisfy myself that the
world was still existing but mostly because I badly had to pee.
Sunlight and color flooded my eyes, and I drank it in greedily,
surveying the room for the welcome signifiers of non-digital reality: walls,
windows, plants. But all of it appeared in a new aspect: jeweled with light.
I realized I should probably put on my glasses, which partly domesticated
the scene, but only partly: objects continued to send their sparkles of light
my way. I got up carefully from the mattress, first onto one knee, then,
unsteadily, onto my feet. Mary took me by the elbow, geriatrically, and
together we made the journey across the room. I avoided looking at her,
uncertain what I might see in her face or betray in mine. At the bathroom
door she let go of my elbow.
Inside, the bathroom was a riot of sparkling light. The arc of water I
sent forth was truly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, a waterfall of
diamonds cascading into a pool, breaking its surface into a billion
clattering fractals of light. This went on for a pleasant eternity. When I
was out of diamonds, I went to the sink and splashed my face with water,
making sure not to catch sight of myself in the mirror, which seemed like
a psychologically risky thing to do. I made my unsteady way back to the
mattress and lay down.
Speaking softly, Mary asked if I wanted a booster. I did and sat up to
receive it. Mary was squatting next to me, and when I finally looked up
into her face, I saw she had turned into María Sabina, the Mexican
curandera who had given psilocybin to R. Gordon Wasson in that dirt
basement in Huautla de Jiménez sixty years ago. Her hair was black, her
face, stretched taut over its high cheekbones, was anciently weathered,
and she was wearing a simple white peasant dress. I took the dried
mushroom from the woman’s wrinkled brown hand and looked away as I
chewed. I didn’t think I should tell Mary what had happened to her.
(Later, when I did, she was flattered: María Sabina was her hero.)
• • •
BUT THERE WAS SOMETHING I needed to do before putting my eyeshades
back on and going back under, a little experiment I had told Mary I
wanted to perform on myself during my trip. I wasn’t sure if in my