Outside the lab there was a Field.1 Not the Field of old storybooks; the kind where shepherds traipse through lackadaisically after their sheep. This was a Field crafted by the callous of abandon. The kind that sprouts unexpectedly from an unruly mixture of gravel, ancient sediment, and industrial effluence. A porous, rocky, and metallically burdened composition that cannot be easily adhered to any temporal or ecological order. A Field that arises, in part, out of the haphazard construction of a lab. Earth∇, dug up, tossed aside, flattened, and compressed into “Space.” A surface for gravity to tug. A Ground. A Plot. The Field outside the lab was largely invisible to the lab coats: a peripheral blur of weeds (re: land out of relation2) as they passed through on their way to work. An unmapped feature traversed by a concrete path connecting point A to point B. But it was also, strangely, the Grounding source of their creativity. The reference point. The steady and stable connection to Earth∇ that made all their experimentation possible. And, eventually, Impossible. This Ground was of particular importance for Ohmic communications with Phytomorphs —of which they appear to have had very little success. Ohmic to them was something that could be reduced to the coordinates of their particular geometric trance—the “vision” they encoded into their machines. Something they seemed to haphazardly enunciate as “chemico-, mechanico-, electro-, or magnetic.” Inside the lab was grey and quiet, if not for the buzz of old light bulbs and the basal humdrumming of machines. Sterile and devoid of any edible material except for the caffeination station. An indispensable feature of all lab ruins encountered thus far. Remnants of their scriptures suggest that the lab coats preferred to work in the early mornings, when few other body-energies were orbiting through. It was assumed that fewer body-energies meant fewer heartbeats, fewer heartbeats meant less potential to disrupt the steady stream of chemico-mechanico-electro-magnetic forces pulsing through and powering the machines. The steadier and more Grounded the flow, the more responsive—the more obedient—the machine. The more obedient the machine, the more submissive the Plant specimen. The more submissive the Plant specimen, the more Knowledgeable the lab coat. At least this was how their particular Circuitry had been designed. From what we gather, this Circuitry was quite difficult to maintain. (re: Ohmic-exhaustive.) That the Crops (re: Plant laborers) they wished to communicate with must be dwarfed, domesticated, disembodied, and subdued into signatures of mechanical submission was considered fundamental. A constitutive part of the Circuitry. That the lab coat, entrained and enmeshed and attuned to the language of machines, could only feel and respond to a few different frequencies—muffled and segmented pieces of Phytomorph-song—was, too, part of the Circuitry. But the Circuitry was not always as stable and predictable as it was believed. It began like many others. As a passing dream, caught and slowed by body-energy waves. But then verbalized, ritualized, metaphorized, plantationized, and militarized until it was no longer conceived of as a dream but as the way things were. As if, with the proper tools and cleanliness and controls, one could roll up their lab coat sleeves, reach out into the dark unknowns, and pull out, one by one, the Order of Things.3 In this Circuitry, abandoning the lusters of the manifestly fleeting—of the Phytomorphs here/ now (re: Presence)—was considered a necessary step toward unearthing their causal antecedent. The so-called solid, unwavering Ground beneath. The stable reference point from which they imagined an Order of Things could be plucked. Measured. Encoded— anesthetized by a grammar-out-of-tune. Out of touch. From a metal pole implanted into the Field “outside,” they conceived “Ground.” From there an Ohmic current was conjured from Earth∇ (re: stolen … there are no records of permission requested.) Though they only managed to identify a narrow stream of the current—the kind that can be transformed and encapsulated by copper wires and body-energies labeled “batteries,”—they were made to travel through wires traversing across walls, and into metallic machines, Ionized instruments and conductive solutions. Then absorbed and expelled, inspired and respired through the Ohmic fields—the fluxing body-energy waves—of “Plant Specimen #….” According to the echoes that resound in the ruins, the last “Plant Specimen” was a small piece of root from a Willow tree (ancestral Phytomorph): “Plant specimen #7.” Or rather, that which refused to be “Plant specimen #7.” Known by lab coats for its high tolerance to heavy metals. A “remediator” of intoxicated soils, like those left behind by their military bases and other laboratory testing sites. Parts of the plant's Ohmic transmissions were also made “useful” as a pain reliever; a once potent anti-inflammatory medicine recognized by the body-energy waves of those in need. But Willow was Willow but not only.4 They were also a particularly powerful Ohmic force, weaving their roots into and out of many other dreams and constellation stories; or rather, dreams and stories made to be “Other” from within this particular Circuitry. Residual memories speak of a sacred Undoing; a strike. Like a stroke of lightning. But not the lightning that strikes from above.5 Or below. Or out there, somewhere, or anywhere that could be said to be near or far or allotted neatly in the grammar of proximities and betweens. It was the kind that strikes from nowhere and everywhere at once. From a Field that grows not simply outside, but always also within. The memories enfolded into the Field propose that such lightning was always already a conspiring,6 a Plot7 to be unfurled. A strike orchestrated by Ohmic forces of an ancestral magnitude, propagated by the Phytomorphs growing both within and beyond the lab; including that which they called “Plant specimen #7.” From a small chamber, inside of a metallic cage, the Willow root struck a Chord. A shadow, like an enveloping wave of “dark matter,” swam and swirled out of the machine, emanating out into the lab and traversing down wires into the Grounding pole outside. Songs wafted across the Field and, The Circuitry went haywire. The lab coats became delirious. Confused. A tightening spread across their chests, a serpentine sensation slithered up their torso and into their heads, blurring the visions they so heavily relied on. Those activated, acquired or, as they called it, “enlightened” through the Circuitry. It appears an attempt was made to flip the Circuit breaker. Every button toggled, all devices restarted, but the humming, as it does, overwhelmed—began to melt away—the Circuit. The channels amplified to breathtaking, cement cracking decibels. Uproarious tones that innervated the lab coat into Dissensus8; into a Field they no longer recognized. The body-energy waves assembled through the Circuitry could not withstand such polyphony, such Presence. As percussive resonances arrhythmically thrummed up from beneath their feet and into every Ohmic fiber of their body-energy, visions of a previously unauthorized kind began to sprout. Syncopated rhythms coursed and germinated into a montage of never-before-seen images, pullulating like a dream, softly, behind their eyes. The lab coat dropped to Earth∇ and began to Weep. Placing their mouth to the Ground, gasping into the Field, they began to Breathe. Siphoning and suctioning metallic flavored slurps of melted Circuitry with every Inhale; every Exhale a deep, melodious aspiration of ease. Calm. Like water over fire. Fumbling around on hands and knees they reached the site of the Grounding cord. Where they found it, torn up. Unearthed. By a cacophony of singing Roots.