Not to be confused with the complete Adventures book, this 44 page 5.5″ x 8.5″ booklet contains Episodes #37-#55, and will be available in January 2012. I am organizing a public performance featuring some of my favorite local readers, music, and images via powerpoint. Stay tuned!
Some of the lost episodes have been found! Not where I expected them to be, but when I saw them I remembered.
I’d hoped to find them in digital forms… somewhere on the internet… on a CD or hard drive somewhere in my cabinet, drawer, box or basement. But when I pulled out that big red notebook that I used to scratch the episodes in, I found what Zach and I collaborated on, by the fire, at the Birch Terrace, laughing. It was there in my living room the whole time. Finding them this way means the photos are still missing. It gives me something to still look for. Something yet to find, if they even exist outside of my memory.
In the meantime, I’ll transpose them to text and upload them… Possibly as a comment to the ones that made it through… In the vicinity of Episode 38.
I laughed in places when I read them.
The story got muddled in 2002, between Episode 30 (the end of Volume 2) and Episode 37 (the beginning of The New Adventures). But that was part of my journey, and was reflected in Flash Meridian’s narrative as well.
49 Converge
Startled, Flash looked up to see an enormous whale coming straight for him. He quickly turned the small ship and avoided impact. A wall of sparking white rolled by, almost within arm’s reach. The creature seemed unaware of Flash’s presence, until the eye appeared. The huge eye filled the window, and he could see the distorted reflection of the TNI2 in it as it passed.
Flash strained to see the rider, but he was too close and too low on the whale’s flank. The body looked like a soft, snowy landscape, which tapered and eventually flattened to an enormous horizontal fluke.
Other than its steady forward momentum, it did not move. Nor would it have stirred any air if it had, hovering here among the dark particles of space.
The second whale followed closely, but lower than the first. It was a smaller animal, and Flash had the impression that this was a growing calf.
As it passed, it blew a spout of crystals which did not fall again, but hung there shining, almost glowing, in every color, including some that Flash had never seen before. Tearing his gaze from the glimmering display, he looked down at the second rider. She looked up at Flash and smiled, waving to him.
At this, he hastened his descent and plunged into the pale blue bubble of air. Sensors on the pod picked up oxygen, and so he continued on down to the surface of the small planet. It took only a fraction of the time it would have taken entering earth’s atmosphere, and soon he passed quite close over a cobalt plateau. The landscape then dropped away to a crimson plain and the TNI2 continued to fall.
He turned the ship and hovered a bit in an area where several colors converged, and there he lowered his craft to the ground.
At least he could analyze several minerals in this location, and then he could see what unfolded from there.
48 Silent NightThe sounds Flash heard within the whale merged with, and then were replaced by the familiar sounds of his ship. He was not sure how long he had slept, and he looked down again on the planet Olo, which now looked completely different than when he first saw it.
What had been a drab little speck now danced with color. He had never seen a more beautiful planet.
Flash watched anxiously until the whales, with their enigmatic riders came into view.
Did they need his help? They were far below him, skimming the thermosphere while the mother ship orbited much further out.
Weighing his options, he decided to jettison the TNI2 and head down to investigate. He’d be safe within the craft while testing the atmosphere and the stability of the planet’s surface.
Olo’s characteristic sounds had ceased, along with the seismic activity. All was still and silent.
After a breakfast of waffles and maple sausage, Flash suited up for his long awaited descent to Olo. The planet which had intrigued him for so many years had only become more compelling in the light of recent events. There was always danger in any excursion from the mother ship, but Flash was undaunted. After all, this is why he had come.
Granted, he hadn’t planned on encountering orbiting whales. Come to think of it, there were ten other whales that were unaccounted for. They had shown no signs of aggression as they swam up past his ship, and his dream further comforted Flash Meridian as he prepared to disembark for his journey.
After checking the air pressure gauge, he opened the hatch and floated through the portal into the TNI2.
The view of Olo’s surface from the pod was stunning.
An equipment scan showed all systems “GO,” so Flash sealed the hatch and released the craft from its moorings. The slightest touch of booster rockets separated the pod from the mother ship and he was on his way.
Because the mother ship was in geosynchronous orbit, Flash circled the planet several times looking for anything unusual. It was all unusual. The color fields over which Flash passed were mesmerizing. The closer he spiraled down toward the surface, the more detail he saw, photographing every bit of Olo’s surface. These images were automatically uploaded to his computer and compiled into a satellite map.
The longer Flash stared at Olo’s surface, the more he saw, noting the relationships of the shapes and colors, and he began to see cryptic images within the landscape. An enormous purple rabbit. A fish head. A woman hanging laundry on a line, a boy flying a kite on a frozen lake with fish swimming below the ice. Flash felt he could spend eternity staring at it and never exhaust the combinations of forms.
What had appeared to be flat color shapes from a great distance were actually mountains, canyons and extravagant prominences in every conceivable shape and size. Glimmering lakes had looked metallic from the mother ship. They were fed by rivers that cascaded through the newly formed terrain and dropped in shining falls like liquid silver.
As the TNI2 gradually descended, Flash’s mind was completely focused on the resplendent vistas below him until a warning alarm sounded. The radar screen detected a collision course with a large, slow moving object.
47 The Chromatic Sea
The solutes in Olo’s atmosphere began to settle, and the entire planet was rearranged. Flash orbited Olo high above the settling dust. Below him, just above the highest layer of atmosphere, the whales and their mysterious riders glided on a different orbital path so that Flash saw them intermittently.
It was too much of a coincidence to think that Flash was not only drawn to this particular planet, but at such a pivotal moment as this.
Gravity did it’s work, pulling solids back to the surface. On Olo, it seemed the finer particles had more intense hues, for the last layers to fall formed a thick carpet of iridescent dust in every color of the spectrum. These minerals must have been attracted to like particles because they landed in distinct areas rather than mixing to a uniform shade.
Flash took great pleasure in watching this immense painting come together as though by the hand of an artist.
The whales did not propel themselves, but slowly slid in formation along the edge of space.
The riders looked like they were sleeping, though for all Flash knew, they were dead, within feet of the air. He was tired, too, and so he went to sleep.
Although he was only a bystander, he had a feeling that he was somehow to play a role in this.
Flash woke to a dream of Earth. His grandfather was standing by the kitchen window, bathed in morning sunlight, sipping a cup of tea and clutching a paintbrush. “Good morning!” Grampa called, “Did you sleep well?”
“But I’m…” Flash faltered. Now which was it? “I… I had the most intense dream. Or at least I thought… What are you working on?”
Grampa had turned back to his easel, and Flash crossed the room to see what was on the canvas. Patches of jewel tones filled the painting. As Flash watched, he splattered chrome yellow across a field of indigo.
“I love you, Grampa,” Flash said. Grampa didn’t respond, but continued painting while humming a tune. Once again, Flash was transfixed and felt connected to his grandfather as he never had before.
Flash’s field of vision narrowed so that the painting was all he could see. The room, his grandfather, and even the paintbrush disappeared from sight, and Flash watched the brushstrokes appear on their own. A shadow entered the right edge of the painting, and moved toward the left. Next a huge white brushstroke in the shape of a whale lumbered into view. The colors were rich and alive.
The white shape turned and swam toward Flash. He felt small yet unafraid. A great mouth opened and swallowed him up.
From within the belly of the whale, Flash could hear the slow, steady heartbeat. The smell was briny with a hint of turpentine. It was dark. Warm and soft, like a bed. He lay on a rubbery surface that tightened and relaxed around him. These contractions gradually intensified, and then the song began.
It started with a low tone, so low, in fact, that Flash couldn’t say for sure when it first became audible. As the tones rose to a register he could hear, he felt as though he were inside the bellows of a great pipe organ, and could discern a myriad of notes and textures within the chord.
Higher notes pierced the throbbing wall of sound, and then dropped out of Flash’s range. In the darkness, the music took on colors and danced like a chromatic sea around him. The message was both alien and familiar at the same time. It was the same message that was painted in the dust of Olo… a message that fell way beyond words. Way beyond familiarity. It was as though a ladle was dipped into the collective unconscious, and Flash’s own essence was one of the ingredients. Flash had never felt so comfortable or at home.
As the mothership approached Olo, the sonic pulses became louder. It was not the proximity that made the difference. They were growing in intensity, and Flash realized that some major seismic activity was taking place.
Flash’s major concern was for the inhabitants of the planet, so he fine-tuned the high frequency sounds in order to hear what the voices were actually saying.
He could hear it clearly now… “Happy! Happy! We are happy and blessed” the voices bellowed.
Flash was confused by the message and tried to think of a way to intervene.
The dingy surface of Olo loomed. Flash looked out over the small planet’s craters and ridges which now trembled and quaked. He feared the inhabitants were doomed. Still, their melancholy refrain continued… “Happy… Happy…” they cried.
The surface of Olo began to show cracks that were visible even from orbit. Clouds of dust rose like smoke and Flash could only watch, stunned.
The voices were drowned out by the pulsing sound which grew louder and louder and mixed with the sound of tectonic plates creaking and cracking. As the debris clouds continued to rise, they reflected the light of nearby stars, creating a rainbow, visible from Flash’s vantage point high above the thermosphere.
The voices were lost in the din of an exploding planet, and Flash watched in indescribable sadness.
“Shepherdess,” he whispered, on behalf of those he was unable to help. After that, words failed him.
He wondered what could cause this destruction… What could possibly be the source of Olo’s unique sonic fingerprint?
As he watched, great sections of the planet split apart and rose, defying gravity, to further fracture and crumble, eventually obliterating his view.
“If only I had arrived sooner!” Flash lamented. “I could have saved some of them.”
The swirling cloud now enveloped the planet, filling the thin layer of atmosphere completely. The dusty terrestrial orb now looked like a larger, gaseous planet whose swirling vapors undulated now in distinct colors. Magenta, cerulean, emerald, azure and violet patches formed kaleidoscopic patterns, and Flash was transfixed.
Something was stirring within the colors. From time to time, Flash saw something floating, or swimming within the rainbow. Yes. There it was, surfacing and blowing crystalline spouts into the vacuum of space in low orbit. Another. A tail fluke slapped the churning surface and the sound of that impact reverberated through Flash’s equipment and his ship.
A whale, or something very much like a whale, breached. Its huge shining body glimmered in mid air, and then fell back, splattering a distinct pattern in chrome yellow across a field of indigo.
Flash had given up making sense of what he was seeing, and just stared, open mouthed at the glorious display below him. Time stood still (it has a way of doing that in outer space).
When it seemed nothing could ever surprise him again, one of the creatures breached, but did not plunge back into the vibrant sea.
It swam right out of the atmosphere, and Flash could see it clearly for the first time. Its white body scintillated and seemed to glow against the blackness of space. Others followed until a pod of a dozen or more whales swam up, pulsing with the same tones Flash had been hearing all along. The sounds were now much clearer, echoing only through the bodies of the whales, and no longer through the soil in which they had swum for eons.
The last two whales hung back, orbiting just above the cloud, gliding effortlessly.
Flash zoomed in on them and saw something… or someone… on their backs. They were people! Straddling the backs of the floating animals, two survivors rode.
One year ago today, I relaunched The Adventures of Flash Meridian, and it’s taken the whole year to get him to the planet Olo. Space travel takes time, even when you go through a black hole to expedite the journey.
During this past year, Flash was faced with obstacles such as broken space ships, personnel changes and tough decisions. But he didn’t have to do it alone. He persevered, and made it to the Griz-Boom region of the Cornerstone constellation right at the perfect time.
The story of Flash Meridian has always been autobiographical, but cloaked in a silver space suit. I’ve had to persevere in my nursing program this year. At times I didn’t believe I could make it, but then one day, I woke up and the semester was over! It’s been a rewarding year. I’ve reconnected with friends, found a church home, made the Dean’s List, and am very grateful for my life and everyone who has been a part of it.
Happy Birthday, David.
”Yes, the purpose of earth is not life, it is not man; earth has existed without these, and it will live on without them. They are but the ephemeral sparks of its violent whirling.
Let us unite, let us hold each other tightly, let us merge our hearts, let us create – so long as the warmth of this earth endures, so long as no earthquakes, cataclysms, icebergs or comets come to destroy us – let us create for earth a brain and a heart, let us give a human meaning to the superhuman struggle.” ~ Nikos Kazantzakis
Everything was eerily quiet, as Flash watched and waited for something to happen. At this speed, any impact would surely destroy his ship. But nothing did happen, so Flash ordered up some dinner.
“This could be my last meal,” Flash said to himself.
He ordered up a steamed lobster with drawn butter and fresh lemon, asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes.
“And a ciabatta roll,” he added.
The table of elements assembled all of the necessary molecules, and soon the ship was filled with a delicious aroma.
With the archives of human history at his fingertips, he called up a movie and sat back to enjoy his meal. 
It occurred to Flash that movies were made to simulate adventures for earthbound people to watch on their television screens. Yet here he was, careening through a black hole watching an old movie for a sense of nostalgia. 
Flash Meridian enjoyed his meal very much, and watched the movie all the way through the closing credits.
The fantasy of life on Earth faded back to his reality of deep space travel, and Flash found his situation rather curious and upside down. He felt fortunate to be here… wherever he was.
Checking in with the computer, he could see that his ship was decelerating. Matter that had appeared stationary was now moving away from his ship… fanning out away from him on every side. Whatever force had held them as traveling partners seemed to be loosening it’s grip.
Analyzing his flight path, he determined that he must be exiting the back side of the black hole… he and the other debris making a huge splash into another sector of the universe.
He called upon the K.D. head to analyze nearby star systems and determine just where he might be.
Images flashed onto the computer screen. The Franklin System… The Giddings Phenomenon…. The Gaslight Nebula… There was no doubt. Flash was in the Cornerstone constellation. More specifically, the Griz-Boom region.
Not that he was completely surprised. He knew he couldn’t take credit for the accuracy of his course. All he did was sit back and let someone else take the wheel.
He zoomed in on a tiny greenish gray speck in the distance… Olo!
Flash aimed his communications disk at it and set up his equipment to record the sonic pulses. The sounds seemed to be coming from the planet itself, rather than from someone living on the surface. The tones were more like a heartbeat than music. As he recorded the pulses, he ran them through a series of filters, isolating the low and high tones. In the high end of the spectrum, Flash could hear another sound. It was the sound of voices. They seemed to be repeating a word that he couldn’t quite understand. It was a forlorn cry, and while Flash could not decipher the exact words, he picked up an undeniable sense of sadness. Flash didn’t know what language the Ololians spoke, but their cries sounded like the English words “Help me!”
The leftover momentum from the black hole sped him toward the tiny planet.
