the gilded spectrum transit [ a serial ] chapter 5

The den swelled to transit size and dashboard-like holographs appeared in a wide circle on the west side of the now cavernous room.

My eyes took on a piercing intensity, locked on the present. That’s the secret to this work. You access everywhere and always from here and now. People never think to look there, but it’s where everything is. I mean Everything.

Let me jump in to tell you this in case you’re mistaken — it’s not hard. It’s natural. The “hard” part is to allow this truth to unfold through you.

The dashboard flashed incongruously and he made his way around a select number of the more flashy ones, reaching into their web-like displays, pushing and pulling their golden threads according to a harmony he seemed confident in. I didn’t need to do anything with that. Didn’t want to even. That was his job. He loved it. He was great at it.

His hands moved the light and the holograph twinkled with a music that’s never heard on earth except by this world’s great composers. If you hear it, you have no choice but to try to make it real, to bring it here. That’s how they got great — they were mesmerized by this elven, unintelligible, all-consuming twinkle inside of them. It used them to be out-let.

The twinkling was increasing in vivacity and tension. Building. It’s almost my turn to do the thing only I could do.

A steadying breath and [BOOM], I shot my hands outward and upward in perfect timing with the light, the music, the love. Stillness overtook the entirety of the den, it all stopped/

Or better yet, paused.

Nooo. Hmm. That isn’t it either.

It became what it was.

Infinite, commandable potential.

A canvas.

THE canvas

of existence.