You may not have noticed, but there have been other characters present within the story of Flash Meridian’s adventures. They have been here all along, from before the beginning. Like that ghost of a whisper Flash had sensed before meeting Bucket, someone has been lurking in the shadows of every word.
Timo woke one morning with this very thought in his head. Like Flash Meridian, he lay in his comfortable bed. He faded between dreams and a room whose curtains blocked the light of a new day. The drapes were haloed by soft sunlight that seeped in around the edges. It was a friendly light that welcomed him. It was a patient light that allowed him to slip back into dreams, yet offered the possibility of parting the fabric and flooding the room with the full light of day.
Creatures were also present with him, nestled into the bedding, and occasionally making their presence known by shifting positions, or putting their faces so close to Timo’s that he could feel their warm breath on his cheek and nose, or the tickle of their whiskers on his skin.
One of these creatures was white, with black spots that seemed to move independently across his body when he walked, and the other being more eager to communicate, more anxious to play.
Another participant lurked deeper still, a shadow of the shadow beneath the words. While nearly invisible, they were the most important person in this story. Nearly invisible, yet I see you, dear reader, on the other side of the page.

You join with the fishlike aliens, flitting about in the air around me, sometimes sending messages from your table to mine, and I am grateful.

From your table to mine.

Oona awoke early one morning. It was a Festival day, and she would sing in the castle after breakfast. Or mid morning. Maybe early afternoon. It all depended on when she got there.
She was not hesitant. Not nervous. She just knew that surprises might find her before she got there. An unforeseen conversation might take up some time. A view might compel her to stop for a while just to absorb the scenery. She might linger at the table longer than she had anticipated.
It didn’t matter. There were no clocks, after all. Things happened when they happened on Olo. When an event started, it was the right time.
She threw back the covers, stood and stretched, taking a deep breath.
Looking into her closet, she saw a collection of pink dresses, and selected one.

I love this dress, she said with a sigh. I wonder if it is too pink? And then she laughed.
Too pink? It would be perfect.
For all she knew, this scene might be playing out all across Olo.

Midway through breakfast, it occurred to Oona how delicious the food was, the beauty of the day, the friendly table mates, the interesting and entertaining conversation, and she decided that this was the perfect day. When she remembered that the festival was starting, well, it seemed the day couldn’t get any better.
Whales passed overhead, shuttling remote Ololians to the plain. She finished her meal and started on the short path toward the castle.
The path was enclosed by foliage, a leafy tunnel through the forest.
She hummed unconsciously amid daubs of light that filtered through the trees. Glowing orbs oozed through the leaves, floating in the scrumptious air, dancing across the well worn path, and across Oona, too. Fishlike companions darted out, piercing the beams.

When she emerged into the open space, everything changed. The light was dazzling, the crowd was boisterous, and the air was heavy with whales, aloft like balloons or colorful clouds, adding their songs to the jubilant cacophony.
“Better and better!” Oona sang out.
The song was a continuation of the humming.
People turned, smiling and waving in an energetic way.
Good morning! She called back, and slipped into the castle through a side door.
Onni was already there.

Remember, I told you that the holograms don’t tell the stories in exactly the same way over and over? Musicians on Olo also do not perform songs the same way every time. The music was alive. Dynamic. Improvised.
No one ever got bored, because everything was full of surprises. It wasn’t fiction, every story was true. Everybody experiences things in their own personal way.
You or I might be intimidated at the thought of headlining a musical show. Whenever Onni sang in public, it quickly became a sing-along. Everyone on Olo knew the songs, just as they were familiar with the stories brought to life through the holograms.

Don’t take my word for it, meet me in the castle on Festival day, and you will see what I mean.

I’ve mentioned the music that would mingle with the sounds of the crowd, the preparation of food, and the singing of the stones being pieced together on festival days.
Musicians would often play in the castle, or out in the courtyard. They sang the familiar songs which retold the unusual events of Olo’s transformation. Like the holograms, the songs celebrated Olo’s unique and colorful history.
A trio of singers drew big crowds to the courtyard or the castle lobby.
They brought their own interpretation to the songs, and never sang them in exactly the same way. You can’t have things figured out. Everyone sees things differently. And so they never grew tired of hearing the stories.
The trio took their name from the sounds that used to come from under ground. To reinforce this message, Sonic Pulses dressed up as the king and queen on that day they first met Flash. Oona wore a pink dress. Onni and Olli wore white shirts and black neckties. Most of the time, anyway.
There were other musicians that often played music in or around the castle.
Otso, the pianist, played the grand piano in the lobby. He said he loved the acoustics in that space, and said that he sometimes played duets with his own echo, when his notes decided to come back to him from the spaces in the vaulted ceiling.
You didn’t have to go to the castle to hear Otso play. He had figured out how to mount a piano onto the back of a whale. When he needed a quiet place to practice, the whale would take him high up over the forest, appearing as an unidentified speck that would fade from view behind clouds. Sometimes he practiced over the middle of the ocean.
When he was ready, he would float just above the treetops, filling the woods with music.
The fish would leave the shade of the branches and dance in the air around him, forming images inspired by the compositions.
He would linger over tables, serenading the diners.
The whale enjoyed it, too, and would occasionally join in the song, being careful not to dip so low that Otso and the piano would topple off.
Otso’s ears were so big that he could hear things that others could not. He could hear conversations around tables that were hidden beneath the canopy. This way, he could always have an audience.

Flash’s favorite music was the humming his grandson did as they walked together through the forest. Also, of course, the echoing “GRAMPA!!!”, whose ripples still bounced faintly between the mountains, or escaped the cliffs to sweeten the Ololian atmosphere.
Luuu would visit his grandfather in the castle where they would read stories, or play with toys from the museum gift shop. I say gift “shop,” but of course everything was free.
The toys and stories went hand in hand, like Luuu and Flash.
One day, a darkness fell over the castle suite. Flash heard sounds on the balcony. Moments later, Luuu appeared in the doorway with a rather large bag.
“Grampa!” He rushed into the apartment and emptied the bag onto the floor. The objects made little sound as they tumbled onto the thick carpet. Luuu had stopped by the museum on his way from his home in the mountains.
“Oh!” Flash exclaimed.
An action figure of Flash himself looked up at them from the pile which included a toy yellow pod and two Wizzzers. There were other things in the pile. Spaceship parts, some jewels and mystery boxes.
“Wow,” Flash said with a smile. “Is that everything?”
Luuu patted himself, checking his pockets, and then remembered something.
He reached his small hand into his jacket, and pulled out a huge, steaming teapot!
“How did you get that up here without spilling it?” Flash asked.
Luuu only shrugged and said “I guess I kept it upright.”
Flash poured the tea, and the two sat on the floor. Luuu had so many questions!
He held up the toy pod.
“What does it feel like to go into space?”
As Flash recounted the story of his journey, Luuu laid back holding the toy above him. That miniature spacecraft arced back and forth at the end of his grasp, and Luuu made swooshing sounds while Flash talked.
Luuu picked up the action figure and said “I’m on my way to Olo,” mimicking Flash’s voice.
“Grampa, What is your favorite thing you’ve done since leaving Earth?”
Flash didn’t have to think about it.
“This is.” He said.
“What? The doll or the pod?”
“This visit. Spending time with you is the best.”
Luuu smiled up at him and then suddenly remembered something. He opened one of the mysterious boxes. It was biscotti. They dunked the cookies into the tea which was still steaming.
“Remember when we made those hats?” Luuu asked, when he spotted their creations up on a shelf.
Luuu made a hat shaped like a fish, and Flash made one that looked like a whale.
Flash brought them down, and they put their hats on and laughed.

“Tomorrow is Festival Day,” Flash mentioned to his grandson.
“Can I stay here tonight? I want to go downstairs as soon as it is light.”
“Of course you can,” Flash answered, happy to have the company.
They played some more, and then went out to one of the outdoor tables for some dinner.
Spirits were high on the eve of Festival. Everyone laughed and talked.
Their voices rose into the ceiling of branches, mingling with the faint sound of piano music that filtered down from the sky.
The sound grew gradually louder. It was a nocturne that was sweet, but contained a sadness that made it more beautiful. Flash thought of Lem. She was always with him.
The shape of a whale glided slowly into view in an opening between the trees.
It was not an intrusive sound. People continued eating, drinking, and talking, but Luuu ran to the middle of the clearing, stood on a large crystal, straining his neck to see better.
The whale descended until its flippers almost touched down, while Otso finished the piece.
Luuu clapped and laughed from pure joy.
Otso looked right at him, and motioned for him to come.
Seeing this, Luuu jumped down from the stone and ran to the whale. He scampered up the pectoral flipper, and straddled the animal, facing the tail, with his back against Otso’s.
Otso began another composition as the whale rose again.
Otso didn’t speak. Ever. Maybe he was unable. Don’t feel sorry for him. The piano was his voice, and what a beautiful voice it was!
The musicians all collaborated with each other. There was no competition. Everyone wanted everyone else to be the best that they could be.
If Onni was singing in the castle hall, it wasn’t unusual for him to be joined by Otso. It’s what they did. Like the castle pages and the cooks, they did what they did out of love, generosity, and a sincere desire to see their friends shine.

Flash continued visiting with Lem in her dreams, and he came to the realization that she was not gone at all. Her body was gone, but as she had pointed out, she was not her body at all. She was a force that had once animated those cells, which Flash had mistakenly taken to be her. In the same way, he knew that he was not his body. His body was a universe of cells that lived for his benefit. They existed to serve him. They were loyal and hard working, each one fulfilling its role to aid him. Each atom of his body was born from an exploding star, and they would continue with some other function long after the force that was him departed.
Yes, he too, was a force. He would not be swallowed up by the universe, cast into the void, he would BE the universe. Just as a wave rises from the sea, and then once again becomes the sea.
Flash had been seeing an old man looking back from the mirror. What he now realized was that his body was beautiful. He adored it. Judgement dissipated. How could he have been so unkind to this collection of stardust which adored him back?

He came upon a patch of blood red. While the color was deep and dark, it seemed to emanate light at the same time. He got down on his hands and knees to have a closer look. The entire surface was faceted like expertly cut rubies. He picked up a crystal. It captured light, and glowed in his hand. He held it up and looked into it against the sky. The luster of stars danced within the stone and it cast beams of burning red light in every direction.

Hours passed. The liveliness of the conversation never faded. Pauses were not awkward, because both participants would linger together in a lovely memory, or a new perspective on some bygone event.
Like I said, hours passed. Eventually, the dream started to wind down. It wasn’t abrupt. Not jarring. Lem began to appear transparent. Flash could still see her, but he could also see things through her, the way he’d seen the far side of the room through the hologram.
It was sad to part ways again, but not devastating. As long as he lived, he could visit her by sipping from the bottle. When the bottle emptied, it would no longer be necessary. They would be together in some other place, or some other dimension.
Flash awoke, or came to in his suite in the castle. He placed the stopper in the bottle, and set the goblet next to it.

He heard voices.

Flash’s bare feet treaded the soft, cool carpet as he crossed to the balcony. A crowd was gathering on the plain.
Celebrations were common on Olo, not in a tired or boring way. They were joyful, affirming and loving times, but like the jewels, they were not precious. What I mean by that, is that they were not formal or unnatural. No one had to be there. No one had to act a certain way. No one had to be quieter or louder.
Flash felt well rested, and a little hungry, so he slipped his feet into a pair of silver slippers, tied the belt of his robe, and headed out his door. His mind replayed his visit with Lem as he descended the grand, curving staircase. Before he knew it, he found himself in the courtyard. The commotion snapped Flash right out of his reverie.
At the far end of the courtyard, a colorful disc floated above the crowd. It was an image of Olo, but a circular shape in the middle looked a bit like a nose. This thought made a mark below it look rather like a mouth. Or maybe it was the mouth that made the ring look like a nose.
It didn’t give you too long to think, because the picture came to life. The disc expanded to be a sphere. There was a crashing sound as a white whale pushed through the mouth, leaving a jagged gap. Not jagged like saw teeth, but an asymmetrical right angle. As the whale burst through the sphere, two figures jumped from the sphere onto the back of the whale, revealing eyes to complete the face.
As a hologram, the king and queen floated above the cheering crowd, waving and smiling as they passed.
A ring of chasing lights encircled the planet. When those stopped, lights illuminated the mouth, which looked like the letter L. The mouth went dark again, and the nose danced, surrounded by the moving lights. This pattern repeated, and the crowd chanted “O! L! O! along with it.
One compelling thing about the holograms, is that they never told a story the same way twice. Everyone has a different perspective. That doesn’t make anyone wrong or right. By not trying to convince anyone, the holograms allowed everyone to be open minded and tolerant. Authenticity was prized over every other personality trait.
Flash made his way toward the gateway where he would get something to eat.

Flash Meridian rarely made plans. If he were invited somewhere, or summoned, that was different. He went.
On days like this one, he had nothing scheduled. He had his routines, like getting out of bed and eating breakfast. Even those were flexible.
He stepped back inside his apartment. It was cooler in here, but not dark. A kaleidoscope of intense color swept across the floor, and up onto any surface it could reach. This carpet of light was not the same as the holograms that formed on and above the bed.
It looked like a forest of tall trees growing up from the mattress, and Flash remembered the first time he had seen that here in his suite. Lem had been on the bed, shaded, and seemingly unaware of the underbrush that surrounded her, the stream that gurgled nearby, and the fish that swam amongst the highest branches.
I miss you, Lem, Flash said, surprised by his own voice.
He longed for the time when she had been present physically. He still felt her presence, and he was happy knowing that she was at peace.
A fish zig zagged down the tree, weaving its way through the boughs. It stopped in an open space between the top of one branch and the bottom of another. It stood out, silhouetted as it was, against the far side of the room behind it. It faced the unopened bottle given to him at the bottom of the ocean. Of course. He would spend the day with Lem. Or the morning. Or as long as he could.
He picked up a diamond goblet from a shelf, and opened the wine.
No lightning bolt shot from the neck, the way she entered the room on their first meeting. No blinding blaze or smoke. No charred smell. Still, he felt her presence already. The sweet aroma of the wine was like her.
He poured a small amount into his glass, and swirled it. The liquid seemed to come alive. He was hesitant, not wanting to waste a drop. Not wanting to run out.
He took a sip, and heard her voice.
Don’t worry. The bottle will not empty as long as you are alive.
He glanced to his left and saw her once again in the glade.
Oh Lem.

I’m here.

There was no talk of sadness. No regret. They were together, so they enjoyed the time. I won’t tell you all the things they talked about, but she did confirm that she visited him through the kindness of the whale calf.
She also described her view from inside the hologram. Can you guess what she saw?
That wasn’t a trick question. She saw tree trunks rising up. She saw the underside of branches, a sparkling stream, and the other side of the room through it.
She told Flash that that is what life is like. The details of the present moment surround us, and tower above us. She went on to say that when the hologram of life is turned off… when the drapes are closed, you will find a bigger, more real world, of which that hologram was only a tiny detail. Like when a play ends, and the curtain closes. Everyone goes out of the theater and back to their real life.
As you already know, the wine let Flash enter into Lem’s dreams. On this occasion, she took him to Ino. Flash had experienced her planet as a barren, lifeless place, shrouded in grief.
It was unrecognizable to him in Lem’s memory. Warm yellow light shone down on a colorful patchwork landscape. Beneath the bright flowers, whose blossoms were enormous, was a vibrant green. The ground cover was thick and cool. They walked barefooted, and the refreshing carpet beneath them balanced the heat of the dazzling air.
She led him down a row of houses, each in a happy hue. They stopped in front of a red door.
Come on in, Lem said as the door swung open.
The room was well lit and comfortable. It was filled with interesting objects. It’s impossible to say who enjoyed the conversation more… Flash, who asked about things, or Lem who told him about them.
When their visit was over, Flash understood Lem’s caution and reticence during their time together, especially aboard the mothership. He knew he would see her again, in another visit like this, or after the curtain call.

Flash still stood on his balcony, facing the exaggerated sawtooth mountains, long after the whales had swum out of view. He had honored each of them as they passed by him on their journey. He couldn’t help thinking about his own journey that brought him here. By recognizing and loving his inner child, he honored himself. Various versions or incarnations of himself floated by.

He didn’t judge them.

The artist child, the boisterous adolescent, the hopeful teen and the lost young adult bubbled up from within him, and rose, smiling at him on the balcony. They were free of the fears and doubts, the regrets they had felt when they were responsible for life. They had all tried so hard. Flash could see that now. Despite their trepidation, they had gotten him here. He waved to them sending bubbles of love and gratitude up after them. He thought again of the whale parade, and was determined to do what he could for the one that followed. The next chapter of himself.
Living, as he was, in the Ololian castle, Flash didn’t normally wear his silver space suit. He didn’t need it. It wasn’t that it was uncomfortable. Well, Flash had gotten used to it, at any rate. It had protected him as he careened through space. He could control the temperature and humidity in it. If he had to, he could be comfortable in it all day, every day.
When he met Bertha on Earth after the time warp, he changed into one of her father’s suits. On the blue planet, he had stripped out of it and dove into the sea. Both times, he had been refreshed.
Here on Olo, he wore robes and loose clothing made of soft, flowing fabrics, not unlike those of the king and queen. Within the castle, he walked barefoot, or wore comfortable slippers. Within his own suite, his feet were bare, making contact with, and sinking into the thick carpet. When he went back up to the mothership, of course, he wore his space suit, as he did in his dreams.
Clothes were functional for Flash. His spacesuit was almost like a spaceship, the way it protected him on his journey between planets. The robe he wore on the balcony of his castle suite was light, and allowed the air to flow through it. It was comfortable. It felt as though he were wearing nothing at all, apart from the gentle flutter against his neck, or the way it flapped against his legs in the wind. His clothes were beautiful. This was not their function or purpose, but merely a happy fact.
Remember how the queen explained to Flash that everything changes on Olo? Well, in a way, nothing ever changes, on Olo or anywhere. If you go back and visit a place you used to live, you’ll see how trees have grown, or been cut down. How new houses have been built, roads have been widened. Familiar places may seem unrecognizable. Yesterday didn’t change. Today is the way it is. It didn’t change. Yesterday and today are not the same thing. That was that. This is this. You just stepped from one brushstroke to the next in the painting of your life.
Flash stood on the balcony overlooking the crimson plateau, his silver robe flapping in the morning breeze, and shimmering in the dazzling light. The child inside him also looked out through his eyes. Flash didn’t obliterate his inner child by existing, just as he didn’t destroy Olo with his presence. The painting was complete, even though his view was blocked by the impasto of time. Uncertainty was an illusion, fear a hallucination. There was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to measure up to, nothing to regret. One day, he would step back and take in the whole painting. He would rise above the final brushstroke and behold the beauty of the masterpiece.
All he knew for now was that he was standing on a castle balcony, his belly full of delicious food. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky, and an updraft felt cool against his bare feet and legs.
He closed his eyes and basked in the moment. He remembered the whale train and breakfast. Something about a spaceship, and other things, people and places from the past. They lingered, but he didn’t grasp, didn’t hold onto them. They flapped, like his robe, in the wind, and went gliding, sailing out over the landscape below him. He celebrated some, forgave others. He breathed deeply and the stirring air became more turbulent. More memories broke free in the gale. Still, Flash’s eyes were closed. In his mind, he saw pieces detach and be swept away. Scenery and costumes from long forgotten scripts were cleared, and he just let them go. They didn’t define him. He had no use for them anymore. He was grateful for the role they played, but they were no longer relevant.
They dissolved in the air and fell as snowflakes onto the crimson plain. Some melted on the rubies, others collected on the cobalt plateau. Some were caught on the tongues of Ololians, who danced in the flurry. Everyone took what they needed and left whatever was unnecessary. Especially Flash, who was relieved to see them go, revived by the breeze, and renewed in his spirit.
The air fell still, and he opened his eyes. The ground glistened.

Flash loved to have adventures. He always had. But his favorite thing to do was savor whatever moment he found himself in. Just to be in the place where he was, and appreciate it without the need of distractions. Excursions. Yes, he enjoyed his trip to the bottom of the ocean. Careening through space. Childhood on the farm. But in between those adventures, he found his real life. Sometimes he would awaken in the middle of the night, wondering where he was. He had to think about which room comprised his current reality.
Aah, the castle suite on Olo. That made him smile. He’d reach out for Lem, and then remind himself that she was no longer here. From time to time he’d forget what part of the painting he was in. That wasn’t the case as he finished his breakfast on the balcony overlooking the crimson plain. All of his senses told him exactly where he was, and there was no place he would rather be. Maybe this was a dream. If so, he just wanted to sleep. To stay right here forever. Or as long as possible, at least.
Something was happening down on the plain, and it caught his eye. The whales hovered above the gem encrusted ground. This was not unusual., but the way they positioned themselves was! They lined up, nose to tail in a circle following one another. Around and around the museum they circled. As other whales joined the procession, the carousel enlarged in a colorful display. When all the whales present had joined the queue, one split off, spiraling upward. They all followed in a conga line or parade. Flash had seen similar behavior from the mothership when he saw the whales blow the net of crystals, and again when they swam up in a hologram near the entrance of the cave.

They rose in an ever widening spiral, and after quite a while, they passed by Flash’s own balcony. It seemed to him that they also were celebrating life on Olo, and this part of the promenade was just for him.
They slid past him in the quiet air, so close that he could not take in their entire form, just radiant landscapes from the curving rostrum and ventral pleats, to the eye, then a wall of color which would taper to a horizontal tail. The color would change and the shape would repeat. Flash just stood still, his eyes wide, taking in the spectacle until the last whale passed. He saw the rainbow colored train continue to rise, and fly off over the forest and foothills before vanishing behind the glassy spires in the distance.
Mad stood by the transparent wall of her home in the mountains, where she and Luuu also watched the procession.

All across Olo, people looked up to see the whales.

The fishes that swam amongst the branches of trees swam up and joined the whales for a time before returning to their home trees, and it looked from the ground like the trees were reaching up to hug the whales as they floated by.