After an indeterminate time in this extraordinary and fascinating place, my guides led me outside. A lightly perfumed breeze carrying the scent of the forest caressed us and did me much good, for after such a visit, in spite of it being enormously interesting, I was feeling quite drained. Thao, of course, realised as much and said, in a lively voice, ‘Are you ready, Michel❓ We are going home.’
These words, spoken intentionally in French and with an intonation distinctly ‘Earthly’, refreshed me at least as much as the evening breeze. Taking hold of my Litiolac, I rose in the air with the others.
We flew over the giant forest that climbed the rocky mountain slope. At its peak, we could, again, admire the ocean that stretched as far as the eye could see. Following a macabre afternoon, and in contrast to it, I found this planet even more beautiful. I remember it occurring to me again, momentarily, that perhaps this was all a dream or an illusion, or that, perhaps, my mind was failing me❓
As usual though, Thao was on guard and intervened with a sharp order that resounded telepathically 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 colour, which was surprising. I never would have imagined water could appear such a shade. Inquiring about it, telepathically, it was explained to me that, sometimes, at this time of day, immense patches of orange coloured 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 metres above the sea and accelerated in the direction we’d come from - I guessed north - to about 300 kilometres 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.
Thao didn’t reply, which quite surprised me. It was the first time she had ignored my question. I thought perhaps my telepathic powers had not been sufficient and, so, I asked the question again, in French, raising my voice as I did so.
Turning my head, I saw a veritable cloud of birds of every colour, about to cross our path. Fearing a collision with them, I descended several hundred metres. 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 realised she had followed my thoughts - and it occurred to me that the birds had appeared at quite an opportune 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 opportunity to fly without wings and I allowed myself to become intoxicated by the colours 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 colour possible on this planet and yet I was mistaken. From our altitude, the effect of the colours 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 colours, 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.
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:
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 coloured tablecloth, the island where my doko was situated. We approached rapidly amidst a fantastic blaze of colour as the sun dived into the waves. I had to hurry to my doko.
‘Drunkenness’, caused by the beauty of the colours, 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.
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, shining colourfully as though a firework display had ‘frozen’ in the sky. On Thiaoouba, because their layers of gasses in the atmosphere differ from ours, the stars appear to be coloured and also much larger than they appear to us on 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.
Thao approached me and almost whispered in a voice that was sad and one I could hardly recognise 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 shinier than the others.’
‘Invisible from here, Michel. We are too far away.’
“#มองไม่เห็นจากที่นี่ มิเชล #เราอยู่ไกลเกินไป”
I remained there, staring at that minuscule star which seemed so insignificant in a sky filled with large colourful 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 naked eye. Yet, I’d been told we belonged to the same galaxy, and the universe comprised thousands of galaxies.