By John Q. Hosedrinker 
Inspired by real-life fungi that manipulate insects, the popular series “The Last of Us” depicts a fictional pandemic where a similar fungus infects humans. A recent discovery of a 99-million-year-old fly trapped in amber, infected by a parasitic fungus, provides one of the oldest examples of this phenomenon. This find reveals the long history of these mind-controlling parasites and helps scientists understand the evolution of such interactions. The amber-encased specimens may offer insights into whether these ancient fungi are related to those that infect modern insects.
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Zombie fungus-infected fly that likely lived among dinosaurs is preserved in amber – well, that’s a headline that grabs you, doesn’t it? It’s like a perfect storm of all the things that make for a really, *really* bad time. You’ve got ancient history, terrifying parasites, and the potential for a full-blown zombie apocalypse, all wrapped up in a tiny, perfectly-preserved insect. Honestly, the whole situation screams of a blockbuster movie in the making, or maybe a slightly less successful B-movie. But you know, sometimes those are the best ones.
Don’t get any ideas about messing with it, though. The instinct is to poke and prod, to see what makes it tick, but seriously, just leave it alone. The best course of action here would be to avoid any contact with the amber and the fly entirely. Keep the fly where it is and the amber where it belongs. There is absolutely no reason to mess with something you don’t understand, especially when it has the potential to unleash something that could end life as we know it. Seriously, don’t even think about it. It is probably the best solution.
Now, let’s be clear, even if the fly *wasn’t* carrying a zombie-making fungus (and, just a reminder, it almost certainly *is*), amber isn’t some perfectly sealed, airtight time capsule. Over time, things inside amber degrade and decompose. The preservation is good, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not flawless. However, because of the nature of amber, we have a near-perfect imprint of the insect. This is a critical distinction because, while the fly itself might be gone, the potential for the fungus to still be viable, even after eons, is a chilling thought. We are talking about a potential time bomb, a fungal apocalypse waiting to happen, and all from a single, seemingly innocent insect.
The thought of a Jurassic Fungal Park, directed by the very, very talented Steven Spielberg, is, without a doubt, a thrilling and terrifying concept. We’ve seen the movies, we know how these stories typically play out. It’s always a bad idea, and yet, we can’t help but be morbidly fascinated by the possibilities. Imagine the chaos, the absolute pandemonium of zombie dinosaurs roaming the earth, infected by a fungus that rewrites their DNA and turns them into ravenous monsters. It has a certain, albeit horrific, appeal.
So, what’s the real deal? Just incinerate it, right? Or maybe shoot it into space. That is the only safe and secure option at this point. The idea of any sort of experimentation or dissection should be completely off the table. We are in the realm of the truly unknown. Don’t even think about it. If there is any doubt, it is the wrong decision. Remember, we’ve seen this movie. We know how it ends, and it never ends well. The very beginning is that it all goes wrong. It always, always goes wrong.
And here’s the thing: the current decade has already been pretty intense, right? We don’t need any more curveballs. It’s been a wild ride, and adding zombie dinosaurs to the mix would be a catastrophe. Space fly Godzilla coming back in a month? No, no, no. We need a break. We need a moment of peace. The world needs to recalibrate. This is not the apocalypse we are looking for.
But still, there’s the temptation, isn’t there? The lure of the unknown. The what-ifs. What if we *could* understand the fungus? What if we *could* control it? What if it was just a little taste and couldn’t hurt anyone? Those are all dangerous questions, though. They are the first steps on a path paved with good intentions and ending with the end of the world. It’s a recipe for disaster, plain and simple.
And let’s not forget the potential consequences. Imagine the corporate world with a workforce of the living dead. We’d be looking at a scenario in which millions are saved with a workforce of the living dead. But, in reality, the financial gain would be nothing compared to the destruction it would bring. It may even be a situation where companies are saving millions with a workforce of the living dead, who knows.
We have to remember what Jurassic Park taught us. The universe, life, finds a way, right? And if life finds a way with something like a zombie fungus, it’s going to be a bad way.
In conclusion, the best approach is to pretend the fly and its fungal passenger don’t exist. Ignore the whispers, the what-ifs, the tantalizing possibilities. Just leave it alone. Put it back where it came from. This could be the first step to a complete breakdown of society and, at this point in history, none of us needs that kind of stress. It is definitely not the kind of cinematic experience we are looking for right now. And, whatever you do, do not ask if we should crack it open. The answer is, unequivocally, no. Absolutely, positively no.