I’ve mentioned the rivers that flow like liquid silver. The water on Olo is very different than water on Earth. Certain rainstorms fell in rainbow colored drops. On earth, you could see a rainbow in airborne water, because of the prism effect. On Olo, sometimes individual drops had their own hue. They fell from the sky in intense color, and they didn’t mix with other colors. If a red drop made contact with a yellow drop, for example, they didn’t become a larger orange drop. They would fall as a half red, half yellow drop. The puddles that formed would be polka dotted in every color of the shower.
The water on Olo was less dense than water on earth, and you could breathe beneath its surface. You could spend a whole day deep down at the bottom of a lake without ever needing to surface for air. This was the opposite effect of the fish that swam in the air, finding shelter in the treetops, or the whales that had grown so accustomed to swimming through the soil.
When you emerged from the water, you wouldn’t stay wet for long! The slightest breeze would have you dry in minutes, yet the feeling of refreshment was long lasting.
If a rainstorm were to form while the Ololians were gathered on the plain, you wouldn’t see anyone running for cover. They just thanked the sky for the gift of water and carried on with whatever they were already doing.

The child sees everything in a state of newness; he is always drunk. Nothing more resembles what we call inspiration than the delight with which a small child absorbs form and colour. – Baudelaire

Meanwhile, Flash returned to the cave opening near the rainbow arch, not sure of what he would find there. The little boy version of him had been freed from the dark cavern, and lived in his heart. That child looked out through Flash’s eyes now. Flash could see him in his own reflection, the last one to be liberated from the dull gray-green dust.
Traveling by whaleback, Flash was deposited in a small clearing near the mouth of the cave. He walked a narrow path through dense woods, and then he saw a dancing glow between the branches. Light was hitting the arch, shooting a hologram into the silent air. In the gently shifting light, one whale after another emerged from the cave opening. They faded as they rose, dissipating into the sky beyond the treetops. White whales emerged like a train, happy to soar out from the darkness.
Flash got lost for a moment, in their joyful exit. He turned his back to the blue crystal at the base of the arch, and walked straight toward the opening.
The blackness no longer obliterated the entrance. No more than any cave would, anyway. He stepped inside. The air was cool. He picked up a glowing jewel and went further in. The walls were adorned with drawings that he could not see on his previous visit. He turned back, and could see everything clearly. The darkness had left, and in the light of the gem, he recognized the drawings as his own. The child inside him interpreted the art his tiny hand had made. They were beautiful. They were simple, uncomplicated images that just fell, without pretense, onto the rock face.
A swath of yellow enveloped one rock face. Looking closer at it, Flash could see the brushstrokes beneath dust and crystals forming on its surface. Next to it was a second rock, also painted yellow. Flash held the crystal lantern up to it, and he heard the child within him giggle.
What’s so funny? He asked aloud.
The childlike giggle became a full laugh, which echoed through the cave.
They are two different yellows! The innocent voice finally blurted out.
And Flash remembered.
Here was Flash’s past, inscribed on stone. It was preserved and protected in the shelter of the cave. He thought of his dream, where he saw the hologram still projected from the ruins of the castle.
The yellow panels shimmered in the light of the glowing jewel. They were two similar yet distinct shades of a happy hue. Something melancholy lurked within the color as Flash recalled that day when he was a little boy.
You’re doing it wrong! a little girl blamed, You’re supposed to use two different colors!
But they are diff… his voice trailed off, as the girl had run off to tattle. Her accusation confused him. Could she not see the variation?
Flash smiled, happy that he didn’t need her approval. He was happy that the simplest of paintings could hold so much meaning. He was satisfied that whatever hurt he had felt in Miss Barnes’ kindergarten class only added flavor to his creation. He was glad that most people would not see, or take time to understand, and that the only validation he needed came from himself.
There were more obvious pictures adorning the cave walls. Hundreds… no, thousands of them, fading into the darkness beyond the reach of the gem’s glow. There were pictures that told you what they were. They spelled it out for you. His mother’s blue skirt, depicted by a crude trapezoid below her white blouse. Her form stretched up the wall, with her face on the ceiling of the tunnel, looking down on him. These were easy.
The yellow fields were pure emotion. Defining them was unnecessary.
They reminded him that he didn’t need anyone else. A day was coming when he would leave everyone behind anyway, so this was good practice. He could love without needing. He could share without draining. He could be. After that, he could transition without fear.