One day, there came a knock at Flash Meridian’s door. When he opened it, the corridor was empty. An envelope lay on a golden tray on the floor. He brought it inside and opened it. Unfolding the paper, he saw that it was an invitation from the king and queen. That very evening, they would host a viewing of historical documents in the library. The ornate lettering swooped about the page in reflective gold ink.
As the light began to fade behind the mountains, Flash made his way down the winding staircase in the tower. Holographic fishlike beings and small, winged humanoid figures swarmed in a cloud above him, darting in and out of focus as night slowly shrouded the castle walls.
Flash felt a growing anticipation. The formality of the invitation was unusual and the cryptic message intrigued him.
To what historical documents could the invitation refer? Olo’s history was told in holograms, which were familiar to everyone. They played out every day, to one degree or another, and were featured even more deliberately on festival days, retelling the cataclysm that inverted the structure of every particle of Olo.
Many new stories populated the history that grew on a daily basis since then, and up to a moment ago.
Could the documents be from another world? Perhaps a gift from the alien king and queen who had recently visited?
With each step, Flash descended deeper into a sense of wonder, and of wondering.
at last, he reached the main level, and passed through galleries that now twinkled only in the light of glowing crystals. Everything was still brightly lit, but the quality of light was different than daylight, of course. One gallery was carpeted in red, with tapestries and paintings in every color, but primarily shades of red. This room was lit by glowing rubies. Another, cloaked in mostly green, was lit by emeralds, and so on.
The library shimmered in every color, but was lit by clear diamonds. The brightness of this room presented in contrast to the softer hues that led to it.
Flash stepped into the library, and the queen approached him, looking radiantly angelic in a white gown.
Thank you for coming, she said in a soft whisper, and touched her cheek to his, first on the left, and then on the right.
Your majesty, he whispered in response.
It was an intimate gathering. No one was excluded, but those who were meant to be there were in attendance. Everyone was welcome, but it was, perhaps, not everyone’s cup of tea. Speaking of tea, Flash was offered a cup, and one was poured for him. The steaming brew was poured for him from an unadorned iron teapot.
When the king welcomed the group, he did so in a soft voice. This was a solemn occasion, and of course, it took place in a library.
He briefly recounted Olo’s much loved and celebrated history, and then, in an even quieter tone, explained that Olo had a prehistory that was not portrayed publicly. It was not broadcast in the courtyard or over the crystal lowland beneath the castle, but kept safe in a vault below the castle.
Not everything from before was lost in the upheaval, he continued, your cave predates that time, he said, looking at Flash.
These few documents also remain. He motioned toward a table, on which three boxes, or cases, sat. Under transparent sheets of diamond, lay the discolored, but still legible sheets. The calligraphy was illuminated by colorful illustrations.
Everyone took their time reading what was written there, which I will share with you now. They read the following:

The Chronicles of Olo

1

Long, long ago and far, far away, there was a planet which was occupied by only two people. The planet Olo, had strict rules banning anything fun. The two remote occupants secretly rebelled in their hearts, against the harsh decrees under which they lived. No music. No touching anything, ever. No self actualization. Just the rulebook, the study of which, took up much of their time and permeated every thought, dictated how they felt and what they were, (and more importantly were not) to do. Below the surface, there lurked something big. Something loud. Something colorful and happy. They were both aware of it but denied that it was there. Like a whale, or a pod of whales, it threatened to surface on their tiny, tiny planet, shattering the only world they had ever known, breaching and blowing crystal fragments into the atmosphere and transforming their dull gray vistas into something resplendent and unrecognizable. They had both found tiny pieces of this crystal in the dirt. They would look at them, wipe the colorless dust from them and hold them up to see the light of stars refracted through the sparkling facets. Marveling at the beauty, they would put the jewels into parcels and send them to each other from a safe and acceptable distance. The tiny planet pulsed with a vibration that spoke to them. The rulebook said that they must stand very still and count the pulses with a waving arm outstretched before them in case they were ever to have to lead a crowd in appreciating the sound. But when they were alone, traversing the dusty surface of Olo, they instinctually responded by laughing, singing and something that almost felt like dancing. This, the rulebook forbade and so they looked away ashamed. “We have everything we need right here in the rulebook,” they droned into the monotonous air. “We are blessed and happy!” their voices echoed. “Happy! Happy!” they bellowed into the emptiness. “Blessed and happy!” they cried, long, long ago and far, far away.

2

The first fragment pulled from the colorless dust of Olo was a white tooth shape. On earth, teeth were generally considered a part of a face. A detail, really, of one feature of the face. What set this tooth apart was that it had a complete face of it’s own. This leads the viewer to contemplate the ramifications of having a complete face on a single tooth. Were a person, dentist or not, to examine the mouth part of the face within the tooth, would they find there a complete set of teeth? If so, would those teeth have faces of their own? One might be caught in a never ending sequence of faces and teeth, caught like the paddler on the river Styx. A green car was also among the initial fragments… The treasures unearthed and sent discreetly… Each holding the mysteries of what lurked beneath the surface. But there the two inhabitants lived, on the surface, heeding the decrees to never go deeper. Still, they felt the rumbling vibrations, and they knew there was something there. Something wonderful. Perhaps something awful, yet they were entranced. While they sat still, as they were taught to do, they felt the tremors that threatened everything they had ever known. They dared not divert their gaze from the rulebook. While their faces stared, oblivious, their hearts raced in anticipation.  Face, upon tooth, upon face, upon tooth, upon face, upon tooth, upon face, upon tooth, upon face… And so they dared not move. They dared not divert their gaze. We are happy… Blessed and happy! they droned in spite of themselves.

3

A planet, even a small planet, is a big place for two people to live all alone. They had been told that they were never truly alone, but that the writer of the rulebook watched them every moment, keeping an account of their every deed so that one day he could judge them. And so they learned to act correctly at times. Still, a part of them wanted to act incorrectly, disturbing the tranquility of the planet with loud voices, blue jeans, laughter and tennis shoes. The young man even considered eating a Wednesday evening meal without wearing a necktie, though of course he didn’t say this out loud. The steady, rhythmic waves were continuous and unchanging, though they seemed louder when there was no other sound to compete with them. The young Ololians sometimes wondered how it might be if a syncopated beat were added. Or a touch of discord every once in a while. “We choose rather to err on the side of boredom.  We choose the bare minimum. We choose what is outdated because it has stood the test of time.” Heads bowed to the colorless dust that choked them, they chanted “Blandness… blandness… We are happy and bland… I mean blessed.”

Here was a part of the story Flash had not read in the book. He had wondered how Buffy and Skip could have gotten such a different message than he had on that first day when he walked the yellow path away from his spaceship. His eyes welled up with tears. There were hidden chapters of his own life that he had kept private as well. Their vulnerability and nobility in sharing these sacred documents made him love and respect the royal couple even more. More than he could express.