Light came down from high above and it went through the heavens, as those below understood them in the past, and down through the upper layers of sky breaking open the clouds, as those below created them, and down through the archways of the second Sector’s skyports, bathing those who played sport in the clouds, and down past the cubic cities of the third Sector and beyond the mines of the fourth and the reflection of the moon which contained the fifth.
It came down and soon became understanding. The Paradisiac named Meraki, he who had bodiesified before the age at which Amadeus had composed the E-flat and before the age at which Eo cor Domini had conquered the then-global supercorp capitalus and even before the age at which Drew Barrymore began shooting for E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, was inside a car and trying to get it to work.
Three infused beings were slowly approaching the car. In some cultures, they would have been perceived as demons. In others, lowly deities which wielded small power over minor aspects. And in the most unfiltered and seamless of holy texts, picture books, they were known as friends. In this understanding, they were playing hide and seek, and Meraki was the last one to be found.
“Aer nos ti dl ae,” he said to himself as he put the key into the ignition and turned. Nothing happened. “Ked nos gaet, kaid nos gat,” he kept saying. He was not speaking in language known to established cultures but rather in the audiovisual script of those most pure creatures, human babies, except that he was in his thirties and just speaking to himself and the first of the friends was reaching into the window.
The arm that touched him was made in an element past the current periodic table of one hundred and forty elements, and Meraki understood. “Ge ge,” he said, laughing and thanking the friend, as the car whirred into action.
The two other friends laughed and cheered. They had found him; the game was over, and they could go back to hear a friend’s poetry and play in the forest while looking for honey substitutes.
Meraki watched the car drive away into the sunset.
“Haha.”
The now three friends danced together, arms around each other’s backs and kicking their legs back and forth like in the musicals of a certain age. But as the car sailed out of sight the light envelope rose, and went back up whence it came.
Now alone, Meraki waved goodbye to it.
The pinpoint of light faded, and Savior watched as Meraki shrunk out of sight. They understood almost nothing of anything the Paradisiacs had told them but they understood one thing at this moment, that their director, their founder and the one named Meraki, had power. They also knew that the three animalian specters had each possessed power greater than K Jeong or VENICE or Cerise and that somehow, the way they watched the figures in the light, Meraki had made them disappear.
Beside them, K Jeong was crying.
“I’m sorry—but he’s just so—he bodiesified at five. Can you believe it? Children have an innate understanding of their existence in the world and yet we restrain them, because they cannot translate it. But Meraki understood his trait and how it formed him, and has had a best friend all his life since then, Sappho.
“I cannot wait for you to meet her. Sappho—” and K Jeong broke down again.
Savior awkwardly patted K Jeong on the shoulder.
“You will see them again,” they said. “Both of them.”
“I know, and that makes it harder.” But K Jeong wiped away the tears and soon became presentable.
“To establish a power system, one needs not only an example at the top, but one at the bottom. We need a Scion who has just noticed their trait. Again, in most cases a child.”
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If K Jeong was so bent on this endeavor, Savior wondered why they had waited for them to appear.
“We go through the Gene thread.”
“Savior, you are learning, yes! We go in again and think of a color, any color, but as close to its absence as you can.”
A pause, as K Jeong waited for Savior to (not) understand.
“So not white, that is a color, but if yours, orange, is one, then thinking of green wouldn’t be very close; as orange comes from yellow, and green comes from blue, and you can’t forget identity, never forget that.
“Colors do not come from others originally. All colors come from the absence of themselves. Now, watch, you’re going to probably just think of orange and we’ll find somebody who’s come a long way. Watch.”
Savior watched, as K Jeong thought, and Savior saw or felt the beginning of orange in their mind that swam in the thread. It was not a color. But it was just barely orange, without being white. It soon flashed in and out of its own existence, and the pinpoint became a girl who appeared no older than ten, walking along a cloud without falling.
That is not her trait, came a thought like a ripple from another’s footstep, K Jeong. In Sector II they just do that. But watch. I got it just right. This person has only noticed her trait and in at most an hour before we got here. Watch.
Savior looked and they saw that, with each step, the cloud below the girl was turning the slightest shade of grey, away from the pure blanket of white. They understood instantly. The girl’s feet were emitting the slightest bit of heat, and the girl was watching the cloud fluff become ever so grey. Still, she did not fall.
You get it. I think you get it. Her trait is—
The color of fire. Orange. Ours.
YES! Abruptly, Savior's vision was torn out of the film of cloud and they saw a kaleidoscope of color erupt from K Jeong’s hair, solidifying and resembling horns or wings and K Jeong levitated about half a meter above the ground.
“When a Scion first notices their trait it is a beautiful thing.”
But Savior had an idea.
Spreading their own wings, they flapped.
Savior looked and saw that, with each step, the cloud below the girl was turning the slightest shade of grey, away from the pure blanket of white. They understood instantly. The girl’s feet were emitting the slightest bit of heat, and the girl was watching the cloud fluff become ever so grey. Still, she did not fall.
So Savior entered through the Gene thread and came down through the sky, crashing on the cloud. The girl uttered a cry of surprise and, as Savior shook their wings against the water, causing it to turn grey along its full expanse, she fell completely.
She fell and flailed her arms, trying to angle towards the nearest floating archway; her fall was dampened somewhat, as invisible layers in the sky seemed to hinder her fall. But she kept falling.
Savior kept watching and as they watched the girl’s feet caught fire.
Savior kept watching and they watched the fire spread up across her legs and up her torso and arms and turning the silvery lined outfit reflective. She screamed. Savior kept watching and as they watched the girl’s body became fire and she tilted forward, plummeting through the sky. The form of it was new. Savior felt that they were watching a likeness of themselves, a humanlike form with broad orange-red wings and a beak, long sturdy legs and feathers of fire. The image plummeted through the sky. Savior watched.
Savior watched the phoenix fall through the sky.