When Flash awoke every morning in the castle suite, he was filled with peace. He would watch the gently shifting glow that seeped in around the drapes until he felt like getting up. Eventually, he would throw the curtains back and bask in the warm glow that flooded the room, or step out onto the balcony and feel the cool morning breeze against his skin. There was so much to explore, so many friends to meet, so many things to see, yet no pressure to do or see anything. The days filled themselves completely. Feeling the carpet beneath his bare feet was an activity in itself, if he thought of it that way (and he did). His toes would practically sink below the pile when he stood still. When he noticed this, he felt connected to… the castle… to Olo… to the entire universe, and to himself, too.
He could request food to be delivered to his suite if there was something specific he wanted to eat. Lem had always had meals delivered, because she preferred to stay inside. Flash normally walked down the corridor to one of the seating areas, where food was served daily. Residents of the castle could take their meals to their suites, or sit and visit with anyone else who happened to be there. I’ve told you about the outdoor tables, where you could go anytime throughout the day or night. The food outdoors was more casual than what was presented in the castle, but it was no less delicious. Certain Ololians enjoyed making fancy foods like air Ruby cake and crystal macaroons. Flash liked something to eat with coffee, and all the dishes offered visual, gustatory and olfactory surprises. Everything was made with love. At least that’s what Flash was told when he asked what made the trifle taste so good. You really couldn’t go wrong.
One night, Flash climbed into that big bed, and woke to a dream. Once again, he found himself in a desolate world. It was neither Earthly nor Ololian, yet it seemed to be a combination of the two. The details were strange, and everything was just off somehow. Poorly put together. Taking in the wide scene in front of him, it looked like Earth, but when he focused on any particular object, it just seemed incomplete. Forms were hinted at, but not fleshed out. Imagine visiting a world that was painted with a big brush. That’s what this felt like. Corners didn’t line up. Proportions were just wrong. He could make out an area that represented a road, so he followed it. He walked along a lopsided fence. In places, there were horizontal boards with no posts holding them in place. Here and there, he saw posts that hovered above the ground, or backer boards with nothing holding them in position. The whole scene gave the impression of a badly designed video game. He followed this road until he came to a town. Here, certain objects were complete, the details sharp. Certain buildings were meticulously rendered, while neighboring structures were loose and insufficient. Automobiles were parked along the side of the road and these appeared with crisp precision. The high definition features drew his eyes to them, making the rest seem more convincing, but only because his eye was drawn away from them. He stood, looking at a restaurant building. While the walls were straight, and the colors were inviting, it never crossed his mind to go inside and order a meal. The word DINER glowed in pink neon, but for all the attention to detail, it simply did not appear credible. He continued walking, and passed several more structures that were only hinted at. Beyond that, the drive in movie theater was crisp and whole. He heard the sound of an engine in the distance. As he watched, an automobile came into sight, approaching along the road he walked. The car was grand, both outdated and timeless. Other details were unclear, telling him where to focus his attention. The scenery was poorly constructed… a mishmash of memories that were on the verge of being forgotten. His mind seemed to jumble disparate pieces together, and the effect was believable enough if he didn’t look too closely. It reminded him of low budget science fiction movies from the mid 20th century, and the effect was mildly entertaining. When the car reached him, he saw two people in it. The woman in the passenger seat waved to him out her window. She smiled at him, and Flash knew he had seen the face before. It was Buffy, and the vehicle was driven by Skip. They did not wear royal robes, and their familiar whale was replaced by a touring car. Flash had the feeling that he had entered an alternate universe that was retelling his journey to Olo, but getting it all wrong. Skip pointed toward the outdoor screen that towered above them, and the film began. A black and white cartoon Wizzzer danced across the screen, holding hands with an Etch-A-Sketch, whose other hand was held by an anthropomorphized View Master. They sang a song about Cracker Jack being available at the concession stand. Flash found this disturbing, and glanced back at the occupants of the car. They smiled and clapped along, their eyes glued to the images on the screen. A teapot did a cartwheel, and steam spewed out of its spout, hanging in the scene after the dancers exited the left side of the frame. Flash longed for Olo, where the closer you looked at things, the more you saw. On Olo you could look into the facet of a jewel, and see galaxies reflected back. This was a shallow, commercial world, which Flash found vulgar.

This was no dream. It was a nightmare, and he was relieved to awaken again and see the undulating light creeping in around the drapes in the castle.

The dream haunted him, and he remembered his apprehension during the long minutes that passed while the table of elements assembled the sphere. He wondered what half-baked beings might inhabit the diners and homes of that other world. He was warm beneath the fluffy bedspread, yet he shivered at the thought. He imagined zombie like forms stumbling out the door into the even light of that place. Faceless heads floating above crooked bodies whose feet did not reach the pavement, hints of jagged children in their wake. Two-dimensional people with no sense of their own grotesque shallowness. Flash wondered whether others, in a more advanced state might see him in a similar way. At least he could hope that his next incarnation would be even better than anything he could imagine in his present form.
We’ll see, he said to the sphere, who had rolled to the side of his bed.
He reached down and petted the Sphere, then rose and threw back the curtains. Light blazed into the room. The hologram of the forest had returned, and the friendly orb sang beneath the forest canopy. Flash knew better than to take any of this for granted.