As far as the geologists could tell, what we called the terrain here on Sidnara was actually a nearly global layer of tough, rubbery fungal body. Most of it was barely alive, having grown and hardened hundreds or thousands of years ago. Deep down there was more familiar sediment and rock, but getting to it wasn't easy. The quickest way to get the fungus to grow was to cut into it, so any attempt to carve a hole was met with particularly aggressive growth, and it took thorough and careful maintenance to keep the spores from spreading all over and into whatever tools you used. Otherwise, it was strong enough for light vehicle use, even enough for foot travel, and maintained traction even during the dusty static storms. Since most of the paths had emerged in response to static lightning, the jagged alleyways and avenues gave the impression that humans were traversing the scar tissue of some incomprehensibly large, deep, fungal creature. They tread carefully, and with respect, and tried not to talk too much about all the nightmares everyone kept having.