Flash still stood on his balcony, facing the exaggerated sawtooth mountains, long after the whales had swum out of view. He had honored each of them as they passed by him on their journey. He couldn’t help thinking about his own journey that brought him here. By recognizing and loving his inner child, he honored himself. Various versions or incarnations of himself floated by.

He didn’t judge them.

The artist child, the boisterous adolescent, the hopeful teen and the lost young adult bubbled up from within him, and rose, smiling at him on the balcony. They were free of the fears and doubts, the regrets they had felt when they were responsible for life. They had all tried so hard. Flash could see that now. Despite their trepidation, they had gotten him here. He waved to them sending bubbles of love and gratitude up after them. He thought again of the whale parade, and was determined to do what he could for the one that followed. The next chapter of himself.
Living, as he was, in the Ololian castle, Flash didn’t normally wear his silver space suit. He didn’t need it. It wasn’t that it was uncomfortable. Well, Flash had gotten used to it, at any rate. It had protected him as he careened through space. He could control the temperature and humidity in it. If he had to, he could be comfortable in it all day, every day.
When he met Bertha on Earth after the time warp, he changed into one of her father’s suits. On the blue planet, he had stripped out of it and dove into the sea. Both times, he had been refreshed.
Here on Olo, he wore robes and loose clothing made of soft, flowing fabrics, not unlike those of the king and queen. Within the castle, he walked barefoot, or wore comfortable slippers. Within his own suite, his feet were bare, making contact with, and sinking into the thick carpet. When he went back up to the mothership, of course, he wore his space suit, as he did in his dreams.
Clothes were functional for Flash. His spacesuit was almost like a spaceship, the way it protected him on his journey between planets. The robe he wore on the balcony of his castle suite was light, and allowed the air to flow through it. It was comfortable. It felt as though he were wearing nothing at all, apart from the gentle flutter against his neck, or the way it flapped against his legs in the wind. His clothes were beautiful. This was not their function or purpose, but merely a happy fact.
Remember how the queen explained to Flash that everything changes on Olo? Well, in a way, nothing ever changes, on Olo or anywhere. If you go back and visit a place you used to live, you’ll see how trees have grown, or been cut down. How new houses have been built, roads have been widened. Familiar places may seem unrecognizable. Yesterday didn’t change. Today is the way it is. It didn’t change. Yesterday and today are not the same thing. That was that. This is this. You just stepped from one brushstroke to the next in the painting of your life.
Flash stood on the balcony overlooking the crimson plateau, his silver robe flapping in the morning breeze, and shimmering in the dazzling light. The child inside him also looked out through his eyes. Flash didn’t obliterate his inner child by existing, just as he didn’t destroy Olo with his presence. The painting was complete, even though his view was blocked by the impasto of time. Uncertainty was an illusion, fear a hallucination. There was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to measure up to, nothing to regret. One day, he would step back and take in the whole painting. He would rise above the final brushstroke and behold the beauty of the masterpiece.
All he knew for now was that he was standing on a castle balcony, his belly full of delicious food. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky, and an updraft felt cool against his bare feet and legs.
He closed his eyes and basked in the moment. He remembered the whale train and breakfast. Something about a spaceship, and other things, people and places from the past. They lingered, but he didn’t grasp, didn’t hold onto them. They flapped, like his robe, in the wind, and went gliding, sailing out over the landscape below him. He celebrated some, forgave others. He breathed deeply and the stirring air became more turbulent. More memories broke free in the gale. Still, Flash’s eyes were closed. In his mind, he saw pieces detach and be swept away. Scenery and costumes from long forgotten scripts were cleared, and he just let them go. They didn’t define him. He had no use for them anymore. He was grateful for the role they played, but they were no longer relevant.
They dissolved in the air and fell as snowflakes onto the crimson plain. Some melted on the rubies, others collected on the cobalt plateau. Some were caught on the tongues of Ololians, who danced in the flurry. Everyone took what they needed and left whatever was unnecessary. Especially Flash, who was relieved to see them go, revived by the breeze, and renewed in his spirit.
The air fell still, and he opened his eyes. The ground glistened.