Flash was tired. As he breathed deeply of the heavy, churning air, he realized that he was exhausted. Sleep had long ago ceased to fall within neat little compartments of night and day. Aboard the mother ship, he simply slept whenever he slept. His view of the universe, while awesome, took on a sameness, and Flash had to constantly remind himself how unprecedented it was that he was able to view it at all. Unique as it was, the ship had become a floating prison which insulated him from the dangers of space, but held little to keep his interest. The whole scenario had lulled him into a sort of hibernation. He’d become dormant.
Now, looking out over the expanse of rolling waves and billowing clouds, and feeling the breeze against his skin, he could barely remain conscious. His eyelids grew heavy. His hands hung like weights at the end of his arms, and he fought the urge to crumple into a heap on the hot sand. He trudged back to the safety of the TNI2, and sealed himself against any dangers that might lurk in this alien world. Here, he could safely give in, and drift away into sleep.
For Flash, sleep was simply a doorway to another world. His dreams were so vivid, they were just another aspect of his daily life. In dreams, he entered a hypnagogic realm where anything was possible, nothing was probable and what was common was implausible. In his waking hours, Flash had already accomplished things that seemed, at the outset, to be impossible, and so he took his dreams as challenges. They spurred him along to creative solutions to anything life offered up.
Flash Meridian often questioned whether he was dreaming or awake, and came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter. The states were one and the same. They were his life.
Just as a seed, buried in soil, awakens after a long winter freeze, Flash’s spirit began to change.
This is how Flash saw himself. As his eyes closed in sleep, he found himself sitting… or laying… (which was it?) on a bed of rich black soil. To one side, he saw the sea, but closer on the other side, there rose tall trees.
Looking up, he could see the mother ship (in spite of the bright light from this planet’s “sun”). He saw it in great detail, though it appeared tiny, being so very far away. Turning his eyes again toward the beach, he could see the TNI2 high up on the edge of the rocky cliff. His body quivered, then shook. His legs merged together, grew longer, and plunged (slowly) into the dirt. At the same time, his arms grew, and stretched on their own, up into the air. They divided into branches, sprouting transparent green leaves that continued to rise into the sky. His roots dove and swam through the soil, causing the landscape and the rocks to shake. The TNI2 teetered and then fell, striking the rocky wall as it dropped to the beach below. Soon the wreckage was swept into the sea by foaming waves that swallowed it up.
Other dreams ran through Flash’s sleeping mind like cartoon reels and were forgotten upon waking. But this one remained, and he contemplated it. He had learned to recognize the important dreams. The ones that held a meaning lingered.
Should he stay here? Put down roots? The TNI2 was his means of escape. If it were destroyed, he would have no way to leave this world. If he were alone here, though, why should he stay?
Flash brought few items along when he ventured to the surface of a planet in the TNI2. There just wasn’t a lot of room. One item he did carry with him, however, was the Ololian book. It was lightweight, could fit almost anywhere, and offered information and entertainment.
The book was so specific in chronicling Flash’s own life, that he couldn’t help but wonder about the other stories it contained. Might they be there with him in mind as well?
He had awakened in the soft light of evening, too comfortable to get up, yet too rested to sleep. Flash picked up the book and paged back to stories of space pirates, robotic beauty queens, intergalactic cowboys, and chose one at random.
In the story, a shady character named P. J. Raygun turned a profit by selling stolen goods. On his way to amass wealth at the expense of an unsuspecting population, a powerful being intervenes.
In the end, it was a story of redemption and transformation. Flash wondered what this could possibly have to do with him.
Flipping back through previous pages, a familiar name jumped out at Flash… Ash Lander! He read with a new interest, and discovered that Ash had encountered someone who had a connection to P.J. Raygun. He remembered that conversation, just before he left Earth the last time, when he and Ash shared their stories of unexpected relationships on their journeys. Here in the Ololian book, was the rest of the story.