The ship I now command

Commander opens his eyes to the bluish white light coming from the arched window covering the length of the locker room. This place lies between the crossroads and the gates, welcomes a uninterrupted flow of souls getting ready for their adventures. He sits among the rows of silver, rectangular lockers, alone on a bench, holding is head in his hands; taking a deep breath. He remembers only a glimpse of his meeting with the superior circle of authority. He remembers clearly receiving the command of the ship called Collective. They said: you decide.

He sits on the bench holding his head thinking of a heading. Where to? He chooses instead to punch it, like he is used to, and see what happens. He is used to the streams of light. He can adapt and transform the ship he maneuvers with his consciousness. All streams are different. Some are the softest breeze of down spiraling soft white light. Some are orange and black laser beam heading straight through space. Some are huge like galaxy wide violet superhighway of light. To adapt to the stream is to change form to offer less resistance and deliver more efficiency.

Commander steps onto the bridge of Collective. He heads with focus to the map stand situated at the center of it and studies his surroundings. He sees the ship underneath what it seems like an infinite ocean of shining golden honey. He understands there is nowhere to go but forward. He turns away his attention from the map. He is not excited. He leaves the bridge for his ready room and sits at his desk. After a moment of silence he pulls open the drawer to his right. He grabs his old golden compass exhaling deeply. Here we are, he said, looking into the intricate instrument. He stood up the compass in his right hand heading enthusiastically to the map. He activates the compass to the map and now follows the regions denser with light in this sea of gold. Toward the most light, then, he thought.

Collective is shaped like a torpedo spinning at high velocity. Going through the golden honey ocean takes time and space. It is a discomforting time of joy and healing. Commander sits in his chair with one eye on the compass and one eye on his personal files. He screens them to remember all he is doing throughout Collective. He also feels his healing happening. He knows he plays a role in those stories and he makes sure he acts with honour, compassion and patience in all aspects of his being.

Now, Collective springs out of the ocean and floats with the big ripples toward a red horizon. The top half part of the ship opens above the crew’s head. All can see a fading blue sky and massive dark red dust clouds straight ahead. The ship grows 3 massive parallel sails on each board to cut through the incoming winds of dust. They also provide the forward push from the energy they gather building pressure. More miniature sails head out from the head of the ship, into the storm biting as much as possible into the red sand, pulling the ship forward.

Now Collective leaves the golden honey sea and flies through nothing but fine red dust, warping the cloud through space around itself like a veil.


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