Suddenly the silence was broken by music. Bucket had followed him, floating above the great chasm Flash had just crossed over.
I found the invisible bridge! Flash called to him.
Yes, you did, Bucket answered, You could have just asked.
You knew where it was?
Of course.
And where am I now?
You are right here,
Bucket said.
But am I still on Olo? Flash asked.
Of course.
And can I go back across the bridge?
If you want to.
Flash was unsure what to think. The myths about the bridge seemed exaggerated. He thought it would take him to another world… another dimension. It turns out it was just an ordinary, magic, invisible bridge. Nothing settled on it. No dust or water droplets would collect on its surface, betraying its location. Flash had walked onto it with his eyes closed. It would require a lot of faith to step back onto it with his eyes open. It was completely imperceptible, even though Flash thought he remembered where it was, or what angle it took across the gorge. That chasm was so deep, he could not see the bottom of it. It faded to blackness in its depths, and Flash understood why no one came back that way. The little whale was too small to carry him, so he thought it best to explore on this side of the bridge. He walked, and the calf floated along. They were joined by Bucket and the sphere. This was a part of Olo he had never visited. He followed a narrow path over jagged terrain, high in the mountains. The trail wound its way to the very top of a spire. At the summit, he came upon a tall tree, whose branches spread out like wings on either side. Beings flew about in the treetop. They were not fishes. They were not birds. These were humanoid figures, with broad, feathered wings, and lovely, joyful expressions.
One of these angelic creatures swooped down and alighted in front of Flash Meridian. They stood face to face, and looked into each other’s eyes. Light seemed to emanate from the being. It placed its hand on Flash’s head, and peaceful waves rippled through his body. His inner child felt it, and Flash was reminded again that time was a construct that he had outgrown. He’d seen the picture of his life before crossing the invisible bridge. His life was not linear, but a painting he could move freely about in. The presence of his child self was proof of this. Because Olo was a painting of his life, this pinnacle was also part of him. The winged person didn’t speak. Words were not necessary. It just smiled. When it removed its hand from Flash’s head, all self doubt and concern was gone. Flash felt empty, in the most wondrous way. The being held its cupped hands above its head, and Bucket settled into them, with the sphere still aboard. Bucket and the sphere made soft chirping sounds which grew more exuberant. They sang together, and Bucket was filled with more love than he could hold. The trauma of his past loneliness evaporated into the thin air. The angel then turned to the whale and blessed it, too, before ascending again into the treetop.
With this, Flash began his descent down a staircase which spiraled along the outside of the peak.
One step at a time, he went slowly down the mountain, treading on the translucent stairway. As they made their downward spiral, they took him around and around, giving him a panoramic view of Olo in every direction. There was no handrail, just a smooth vertical stone wall on one side, and a sheer drop on the other. Flash had to focus, and this kept his head clear, which was his goal when he set out to walk on the plain. He hadn’t realized that he would be making this pilgrimage, and yet, here he was, transfigured, or at least blessed. There was a repetition to this journey. Step after step, nothing seemed to change on the seemingly endless staircase. The whale and Bucket glided patiently by his side. Flash wasn’t bored or discouraged about the distance, nor was he afraid or tired. He thought again of the slow moving transformation that took him from a small child to an old man. When he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, he was surprised at how quick the journey seemed to pass.
I thought it would take longer, he said to his companions.
He wasn’t home yet. The foothills and the plains stretched between him and the castle.
The white whale came looking for her calf. When she reached the troupe, she lowered her pectoral flipper to the ground so Flash could climb up onto her back.
They sailed over the forest, and Flash felt refreshed, despite his long trek, and his earlier excursion to the mother ship. The shadows were getting long, and objects were backlit against a colorful curtain of sky.
Flash didn’t tell anyone about finding the invisible bridge. Whenever he heard the tall tales people told after bridge combing, he only listened and smiled, waiting to hear about the chasm and the Angel Tree. Besides, who was he to say the stories he overheard weren’t true? Maybe the experience, like the book, was tailored to the traveler.
He kept these thoughts quiet, and treasured them in his heart. Maybe he was the first to return from the invisible bridge, but who knows how many others had crossed it and come back down? As he had told Lem once, you can’t have people figured out. Everyone carried unspoken knowledge with them in their day to day lives. Because everyone is different, everyone could be his teacher. Flash reminded himself to acknowledge the divine within each one, believing this brought him one step closer to what he should do, and bringing greater depth and richness to life. He peered through the facets, and from time to time he caught a glimmer of something deeper. Each encounter was a portal to the shadow world that underpinned everybody and everything. He wasn’t special, he was privileged and humbled to be a part of it all.