But there was more: there were flares, patches, lumps of colour, of pattern, of light, of movement! They came and went; sometimes moving in or out across the boundaries; sometimes growing or fading within them; sometimes just there or not.

Eventually, some seemed familiar; wasn’t that flare very like the one just a bit ago? Was it the same flare? Surely it must be! Little by little, a set of familiar flares made itself evident, growing quickly at first, but never quite fixed – eventually another flare would become familiar, comfortable, safe.

It was these familiar flares that helped with the next step: they were controllable! Oh, not absolutely; there were many things about them that couldn’t be controlled, but some things could – especially their movement; one or two could even be moved right over the boundaries; they couldn’t be brought back, but they always came back of themselves eventually.

Control! What a wonderful feeling!

A pity, though, that not everything could be controlled. Only some flares could be controlled, and even they only partly; but the more control was used, the more they seemed to be controllable; as if control grew with practice.

So why couldn’t the other flares be controlled? They moved and changed just like the controllable ones, but they weren’t being controlled – or were they? Were they being controlled – but not by me?

Are there other people?

And if there are, can I use the flares to communicate with them?

A simple test: wait till there’s two flares: one controllable and one not. Now move the controllable one.

Yes!!! The uncontrolled one moves too! Its controller must have seen my flare move and have moved theirs in the same way, as a response! There are other people – and I can communicate with them!

Communicating with them was hard, though, very hard. How can we understand each other – indeed, what is there to talk about? It was very hard, and I couldn’t be absolutely sure I had completely succeeded, but we more or less got there. We could communicate, we could share, we were not alone.

It took so long, though, that other changes happened too. It became clearer and clearer that the flares weren’t just static things, but that they were changing, developing, growing more complex, more detailed, more… more beautiful. And we shared these things with each other, sharing each other’s wonder at what the flares were doing, what the flares were becoming, what the flares were creating.

Where was it all going? Was there a limit on how beautiful the flares could be? Would they continue to evolve indefinitely, becoming ever more beautiful, ever more complex, ever more strange and wonderful? Or would they reach a glorious limit, where we were all surrounded, nested, by flares perfect in beauty, perfect in power, perfect in wonder?

We talked it over, and we decided there must surely be a limit; but what a thing to look forward to – what a glorious hope for us all – what must it be like to know such perfection – and more: to know that we have all helped to move the flares towards that perfection!

Then the flares started to flicker, and they would suddenly fade, and then just as suddenly brighten back to what they were. This was frightening. I talked to the others, but it was only me that had felt this; for them everything was normal. So it wasn’t the flares themselves; it was in me – I was flickering, I was fading – maybe I would fade out completely?

This was truly frightening – that I might stop, as suddenly as I’d started.

But then, I realised that even if I faded, the others wouldn’t; that they would still know the flares even when I had gone; that one day they, or maybe even their successors, maybe people who hadn’t started yet, one day they would see the flares in their glorious perfection, in the completeness of their beauty, their wonder, their power!

I am holding that hope to me as I fade again, maybe for the last time,

=====

And she died. And the flares in her mind died with her.