It’s a mushroom farm. It’s a corn field. It’s a tower. It’s fertile soil. It’s a pigeon cott.
What you call it probably depends on when you encounter it. On first glance IT could be a pile of mycelium bricks, tower-shaped, IT could be a pile of soil, a patch of corn, a pigeon cott, or even a somewhat otherworldly mushroom farm. And you’d always be correct because in its various incarnations IT is always one of the above, and all of them at the same time.
IT does not yet have a name because by its very essence it’s the constant process of one state moving into the next. After the mushroom harvest the old mycelium bricks are used to build a tower, a tower aspiring to become soil, the soil bringing forth the corn, the corn eaten by resident pigeons that fertilize the soil with their droppings while corn foliage is turned into blocks of mycelium substrate to once again grow mushrooms.
It is a holobiont, a cooperation between species, technology, nature and time. Or something even beyond the holobiont, something that weaves animal, plant, fungi and humanity, as well as various domesticated and rewilded variants of these, into one living and dying system. There is no start, there is no finish, only periods of rest, periods of frantic activity, and moments of transformation.