Within the green, an accumulation. Star-shaped, it spun slowly in the flow, a mindfulness at each point, each point a sense of awareness. Here. Now. I. Am. Here. Now. They. Are. Here. Now. We.
Reaching out, left and right, thought touched thought. We. I. We. I. Across, left and right, thought touched thought. We. I. You. We. I. You. Each linked to each, lines of association spreading to make a glowing star in a shining pentacle, and at the center, a smaller pentacle where something new began to grow.
At four of the points, persons fought to reclaim themselves, as drowning men gasp for air, and Flowing Green sang to them.
“Dissolve,” it sang to Ellin. “Into the pattern, into the music, just dissolve. Skein away like melting sugar. Become one with the patterns on the wall, in peace, in quiet, as if you were in Mama One’s lap once more … “
“Dissolve,” it said to Bao. “Leave all concerns behind. There is nothing here but pleasure. Let it all go, parents, expectations, worries, all are fading. Let them go … “
“Dissolve,” it said to Mouche. “Into the sea, Mouche. Into the liquid roaming, the cry of the waterkeens, into the slosh and swim of the sea … “
“Dissolve,” it said to Ornery. “Lay death away, lay pain away, your people are here, renewed, part of everything, and you will rejoin … “
“Dissolve,” it said to itself. “Become what you covet becoming, tim-tim. Be one with him, with them, with all … “
They loosened. They gave up being. They joined and re-became, a new thing. A stronger thing. A thing that knew more than any one of them had supposed it was possible to know.
The new thing heard a calling. “Oh, I long, I long, I long. I am alone, alone, alone. Death comes on me, time runs away, pain awaits, fire awaits, and I am alone, alone, alone.”
A certain mindfulness reminded: Do not say don’t be silly. Say, instead, of course, I know, I understand. Do not go too softly. Go strongly, as one who is perilous and brave.
A certain mindfulness said: Do not smell of this world, but of the vast sea, the spaces between the stars.
A certain mindfulness said: Do not dance as a woman would dance, as a man would dance, as legs would dance, but as wings would dance, as these two would dance if they were lovers making a promise that would echo among the galaxies.
Do not be bound by gravity, for we will swim weightless within this liquid world. Do not be bound by breath, for we need not breathe, or by thought, for we need not think. Here is only sensation and the need for joy …
The being began to form. Two points joining two others to make wings. One point to make a head containing eyes to perceive light and images. Organs to perceive and make audible signals. Organs to create and perceive heat. Organs to compute and calculate. Organs to encompass and caress.
“I know where it is,” it said to Kaorugi. “I hear it calling. I feel its longing. I am ready to go.”
“Not just yet,” said Kaorugi. “You must grow. Add to yourself. Accumulate. Before you go, you must be larger, much larger.”
“Where am I?” a certain mindfulness wondered, in momentary panic.
“Here, Mouchidi,” whispered Flowing Green. “Don’t worry.”
“I don’t know enough to do this.”
“You don’t. We do. And Kaorugi has figured it out. Seeing our shape, he is understanding what it is for.”
“I am dancing … “ Ellin thought.
“I am a woman, dancing … “ Bao thought.
“I am having a great adventure,” Ornery told herself.
“Let me go,” thought Mouche. “I can’t take me with me. I’ll just have to let me go … “
The form solidified, still growing. The wings began to toughen, their great spars folding and unfolding.
“Let me go.” A fading thought.
“Mouche?” whispered Kaorugi. “Ellin Voy? Gandro Bao? Ornery Bastable?”
There was no reply.
“Flowing Green?”
Still no reply.
“Ready then,” said Kaorugi to his tunnelers. “Now.”
The tunnelers at the trench redoubled their efforts. In the Fauxi-dizalonz, the form became more definite, with edges and fringes. The thudding at the heart of the world came more rapidly.