I’m alone.
Lucie’s fallen, Mykal’s departed and Gabriel’s gone.
I’m alone in a never-ending office full of luminous immortals.
I can’t believe how quickly everything changed. One moment we were all friends, we were racing through the Light. I was dancing in the Garden of Forms.
I think I almost shone.
But Lucie said I’d never be a Star and then she went on a quest without me, and when they came back, things were different.
I don’t know why I care what Lucie thought, she was a liar, and after everything she’s now Fallen. But I do. I care because she made me feel special, unique. She made me believe we were friends.
But if she was my friend the betrayal is all the greater. Not hers, mine. I didn’t save her, couldn’t follow her onto Night-Stage.
My own fears held me back, but also her words, “You’ll never be a dancer.”
Words that first ignited anger, then sparked fear, now simmer at my core. I’m resigned to the reality of my existence.
I am not special.
I never was.
Lucie was right and when it came to it, when she needed me most, I let her down. I failed my best friend.
Lucie, Mykal and Gabriel were unique to me, but to them I was never unique, just one of many. They could never have felt about me the way I felt about them. I’m a defective and deflated balloon, blown up only to be let go and streak pathetically round a room. The sound of a raspberry heralding my deflation.
The only thing left for me to do is fulfil the orders of the First Message.
In a weird way, by helping, I still feel close to Gabriel. Not that it matters anymore. The spark, that was there, is only a flicker now and will soon be extinguished, smothered by the knowledge that I am where I belong.
We’ve set up The Company. Of course, I wasn’t good enough to be Management. I wasn’t even good enough to be a Senior Analyst. I’m just a Decision Analyst. The Never-Ending Office is full of DAs. I’m one among many.
At least I have my own desk (more than I deserve). Here everything I have has a place and everything is kept in its place, especially my thoughts.
Keeping busy, I bury any wandering memories about the beginning, about Lucie, Mykal or Gabriel. Sometimes a stray recollection sneaks to the surface of my mind; the mirage of a smile, the ghost of a touch, the echo of a laugh. They are like moles popping up and leaving a heap of disturbed soil.
My mind is full of mole hills.
Keeping everything neat, tidy and in its place, I pat down the disturbed area and reseed the ground with efficient ideas.
Maybe as time passes, there’ll be fewer mole hills and one day there’ll be none. One day I’ll forget that anything ever changed in the Edge of the Light.