Subject: How To Fly. Part 3. April 9, 2008.
This talks about the plankton is the ocean causing
the water to turn another color.
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As usual though, Thao was on guard and intervened
with a sharp order that resounded t-lepathically in my
head like the crack of a whip, dispelling my vague
doubts: ‘If you don’t press your Litiolac, Michel, you
will end up taking a bath and, if we don’t hurry, night
will overtake us.
That might be a little inconvenient for you, don’t
you think?'
Indeed, lost in my thoughts, I had descended and
almost touched the waves. I pressed my Litiolac firmly
and shot up like an arrow, joining Thao and the others
who were high in the sky.
The sun was already quite low and the sky was totally
clear. The ocean had taken on an orange color, which
was surprising. I never would have imagined water could
appear such a shade. Inquiring about it,
te-epathically, it was explained to me that, sometimes,
at this time of day, immense patches of orange colored
plankton would rise to the surface. These waters, it
appeared, contained enormous quantities of plankton.
What a sight it was: the sky was blue-green, the sea
was orange, and everything was enveloped in the golden
light which, on this planet, seemed to come from
nowhere and everywhere.
Quite suddenly, my companions gained altitude and I
followed them. We were about one thousand meters above
the sea and accelerated in the direction we’d come from
- I guessed north - to about 300 kilometers per hour.
Looking in the direction of the setting sun, I could
make out a wide, black band on the water’s surface. I
didn’t have to ask about it - the answer came quickly.
`It is Nuroaka, one of the continents. It's as big as
the whole of Asia.'
`Are we going to visit it?' I asked.
Thao didn't reply, which quite surprised me. It was
the first time she had ignored my question. I thought
perhaps my tel-pathic powers had not been sufficient
and, so, I asked the question again, in French, raising
my voice as I did so.
`Look over there,' she said.
Turning my head, I saw a veritable cloud of birds of
every color, about to cross our path. Fearing a
collision with them, I descended several hundred
meters. They skimmed by me at an incredible speed - but
was it they who travelled so fast, or us? I thought
perhaps it was our combined speeds that made them
disappear so quickly but, just then, something
astonished me greatly.
Looking above me, I saw that Thao and the others had
not changed their altitude. How was it they hadn't
collided with this winged squadron?
Glancing at Thao, I realized she had followed my
thoughts - and it occurred to me that the birds had
appeared at quite an op****tune time - just when I had
posed my question.
Accustomed to Thao, I knew that she would have her
reasons for `ignoring' me, and I let the matter drop. I
decided, instead, to take advantage of this op****tunity
to fly without wings and I allowed myself to become
intoxicated by the colo-rs around me, which gradually
changed as the sun sank towards the horizon.
The pastel shades that washed over the sky, were of a
majesty quite indescribable with my pen. I thought I
had already witnessed all the symphonies of color
possible on this planet and yet I was mistaken. From
our altitude, the effect of the colo-rs of the sky,
sometimes contrasting with those of the ocean and
sometimes complementing them perfectly, was
spectacular. How incredible it was that Nature could
coordinate such a range of colo-rs, always
changing, always beautiful... I felt again, the
beginning of the `drunkenness' which had
previously caused me to faint, and received the
order, brief and clear: `Close your eyes immediately,
Michel.'
I obeyed, and the sensation of drunkenness
dissipated. However, it is not easy to pilot a
Litiolac and to remain in formation with closed
eyes - especially when one is a novice in the
area. Inevitably, I strayed left and right,
up and down.
Another order was given, this time less
urgent: `Watch Lationusi's back, Michel.
Don't take your eyes off him and watch his
wings.'
I opened my eyes to see Lationusi in front of
me. Strangely, it did not surprise me at all
that he had sprouted black wings and I fixed
all my concentration on them. After a time,
Thao approached me, saying in French: `We're
nearly there, Michel, Follow us.'
I found it equally natural that Lationusi
had now lost his wings. I followed the group
down towards the ocean, where we could make
out, like a jewel on a colored tablecloth,
the island where my doko was situated. We
approached rapidly amidst a fantastic blaze
of color as the sun dived into the waves. I
had to hurry to my doko. `Drunkenness',
caused by the beauty of the colors, threatened
to overwhelm me again, and I was obliged to
close my eyes partially. We flew now at sea
level and, before long, crossed the beach and
plunged into the foliage surrounding my doko.
My landing, however, was unsuccessful and I
found myself inside the doko astride the back
of a seat.
Latoli was immediately at my side. She pushed
in the button of my Litiolac, asking me if I
was all right.
`Yes, but those colors!' I stammered.
No one laughed at my little accident and
everyone seemed a little sad.
It was so unusual for them that I was quite
thrown by it. We all sat down and helped
ourselves to hydromel and dishes of red and
green food.
I was not feeling very hungry. I had taken
off my mask and was beginning to feel more
like myself again. Night fell quickly, as it
does on Thiaoouba and we sat in darkness. I
remember wondering over the fact that, while
I could barely distinguish each of them,
they could see me as easily as if it were
daylight.
No one spoke; we sat in silence. Looking
up, I could see the stars appearing one by
one, ****ning colorfully as though a
firework display had `frozen' in the sky.
On Thiaoouba, because their layers of g*****
in the atmosphere differ from ours, the
stars appear to be colored and also much
larger than they appear to us on Earth.
Suddenly, I broke the silence asking,
quite naturally, `Where is Earth?'
As if the group had simply been waiting
for this question, they all rose together.
Latoli took me in her arms like a child
and we went outside. The others led the
way and we followed a wide path that led
to the beach. There, on the moist sand of
the shore, Latoli set me down.
Minute by minute, the firmament was
illuminated by more stars as though a
giant hand was lighting a chandelier.
Thao approached me and almost whispered
in a voice that was sad and one I could
hardly recognize as hers: `do you see
those four stars, Michel, just above the
horizon? They almost form a square. The
one on the top right is green and ****nier
than the others.'
`Yes, I think that's it - yes, it forms
a square - the green, yes.'
`Now go to the right of the square and
slightly higher. You will see two red stars
quite close together.'
`Yes.'
`Keep your eye on the one on the right and
go a tiny bit higher. Can you see a tiny
white star? It's barely visible.'
`I think so... yes.'
`And on its left a little higher is a tiny
yellow one.'
`Yes, that's right.'
`The tiny white one is the sun which lights
up the planet Earth.'
`So, where is Earth?'
`Invisible from here, Michel. We are too far
away.'
I remained there, staring at that minuscule
star which seemed so insignificant in a sky
filled with large colorful jewels. That
minuscule star, however, was perhaps at that
very moment warming my family and my home,
making plants germinate and grow...
`My family' - the words seemed so strange.
`Australia' - from this perspective I had
trouble imagining it to be the largest island
on my planet, especially when even Earth was
invisible to the ****d eye. Yet, I'd been
told we belonged to the same galaxy, and
the Universe comprised thousands of
galaxies.
What were we, poor human bodies? Hardly
much more than an atom.
chapter 13
Coming back `home'
The sheets of galvanised iron on the roof
creak under the burning rays of the sun, and
even on the verandah, the heat is almost
unbearable. I watch the delightful play of
light and shadow in the garden and hear the
song of the birds as they chase each other
across a pale blue sky - and, I am sad.
I have just put the final full stop at the
end of the twelfth chapter of this book I
was asked to write. The task was not always
easy. Often details would escape me and I
would spend hours trying to recall certain
things which Thao had said, and particular
things she wanted me to write.
Then, at the moment when I was totally
exasperated, it would all come back to me -
every detail, as if a voice was dictating
the words over my shoulder, and I would
write so much I would develop cramps in my
hand. For periods of about three hours,
sometimes more, sometimes less, images would
crowd into my head.
While writing the book, with words jostling
each other in my mind, I often wished I had
known shorthand - and now, again, the strange
sensation is back.
`Are you there, Thao?' I would ask, never
receiving a reply. `Is it one of you? Thao?
Biastra? Latoli? Lationusi? I beg you to give
me a sign, a sound. Please respond!'
`You called me?'
I had spoken aloud and my wife had come
running. She stood in front of me, watching
me closely.
`No.'
`You are doing this periodically, aren't
you - talking to yourself. I will be glad
when this book is finished and you `come back
to Earth,' literally!'
She left. Poor Lina. She certainly has not
had an easy time of it, these past months. How
must it have been for her? She got up one
morning to find me stretched out on the sofa,
d-athly pale, having difficulty breathing and
desperately wanting to sleep. I asked her
if she had found my note.
Part 3.
John Winston. johnfw@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
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