The saturated colors and riot of emotions of the surrounding world envelop the gaze and soul of the twenty-year-old guy, who is strolling unhurriedly through the summer park. He shades his eyes, looking at the sun, smiles, and enjoys life. He looks around. Nearby, children play carefree, running and laughing, eating ice cream. A girl looks up and cries bitterly; a red balloon has flown off into the blue sky. It’s already high up, and the girl stays below, watching her airy friend disappear from sight.

Multicolored toys are scattered across the large and noisy children’s playground. Parents don’t spare expense buying interesting things for their children. Couples in love walk past. The guys joke playfully, the girls giggle sweetly in response, feeling shy. Some families have come out for a walk together. The weather is pleasant.

Birds sing loudly among the vibrant green leaves. The singers are rarely seen, but they’re perfectly heard. One wants to stop, close one’s eyes, and just listen. Bright, luscious flowerbeds generously decorate the park. Butterflies of unseen beauty flutter their weightless wings above the fragrant flowers. Sweet nectar gives them vitality. They are given little time and prefer to die a sweet death.

Fountains generously water the lawns, with crystal drops sparkling in the sun. If one looks closely, one can see a rainbow. The blueness of the sky and the white clouds reflect in the puddles that remain after a small rain a couple of hours ago. The rustle of the leaves from the fresh wind soothes the listener.

So much happiness and joy surround him. It’s pure pleasure when you know how to see, appreciate, and enjoy. The guy walks with a light step through the delightful place. He examines the area with relish. Everything is beautiful. He enjoys the weather, the view, and life. He breathes in the fresh, ozone-infused air fully. Looking at the sky, he thinks, “Just how wonderful this world is.”

A hit! His whole life flashes before his eyes. He falls. Everything goes dark. The world vanishes. All the bright colors instantly fade. Darkness. Pitch black. The birds still sing, the steps of passersby are heard, the leaves rustle as before, and the children continue to laugh. But the guy doesn’t see any of it. He’s been blind since childhood.

The magnificent summer day is ruined by the billboard. They put it up this morning near the cafe, in the very place where he usually walks, enjoying the beauty. He adjusts his black glasses. He fumbles for his folding cane on the warm, slightly damp asphalt. He gets up and cautiously continues his walk in the darkness. He taps out every step, moving away from the fleeting happiness that seemed so real.

Oliver often does this. No, not fall. He loves to travel, turning the long-familiar darkness into his own fairytale world. The places he imagines are much brighter and more colorful than real places. This is the huge advantage of fantasy. Blindness expands the boundaries of possibility, giving him the limitless power to create a personal universe. Absolutely everything is subservient here. He is the creator and owner of the worlds he makes. While his body remains among people, Oliver’s imagination creates a new society or simply erases humanity altogether.

When he feels sad and lonely and wants to see and talk to someone, the right person appears, unconnected to the real world, where he no longer has good acquaintances, apart from the social worker named Dolores. The woman comes once a month to deliver his government aid.

The rest of the time, he socializes with other people for whom concepts like height, weight, skin color, age, social status, and position in society do not exist. When he creates these companions, he pays special attention to their personalities. Not a single one is repeated.

Oliver sees them just as ordinary people see their friends. When someone experiences a situation in life, the right person, the one they want to see right now, surfaces in their memory. They call them, text them, or go to visit them to share their worries and emotions, or simply to vent.

Oliver acts differently. He just needs to think about which of his friends he wants to see at the moment. The necessary image instantly appears before the boy. Most often, it’s his best friend, Mike. He spends the majority of his time and situations with Mike.

Oliver travels in his worlds alone. Afterward, he discusses his experiences with his friends. Sometimes, he wants to share strong emotions right where they are born, and then he takes Mike along. Mike is fun and comfortable to be with, and most importantly, he can be trusted. Oliver cannot be completely honest with the others.

Oli creates the images, and the personalities fill themselves in. That makes it more interesting. Gradually, they get to know each other better. There are arguments when their personalities or views clash or are too similar. Sometimes the friends quarrel among themselves. Oli separates the parties and smooths over the conflicts.

Afterward, of course, they reconcile, but everything changes. Within the group, it’s determined who is whose best friend. A person is never ideal for everyone at once. There is always one willing to tolerate what they dislike about another, who is in turn willing to tolerate the specifics of their personality. That’s how best friends like Oliver and Mike are made. In any situation, Mike is always the first to arrive. And now, in the darkness after a walk in the summer park, his best friend appears. He always helps Oliver stand up, offering a strong, supportive hand at any time. Then they go for a walk together.

He didn’t call Mike because he didn’t want to distract him from his personal affairs. Yes, he has things to do, and a private life that shouldn’t be intruded upon. We don’t create people in our imagination; we choose from those who live there originally. Mike helps him recreate the lost world of the sunny park. He returns and moves the billboard to another location so no one else stumbles over it.

They head to the shooting range; it’s nearby. They shoot at targets with crossbows, which is more interesting than simple rifles. Oliver hits all the targets arranged on the shelf. The toys, soldiers, and balloons are lined up in rows. Mike misses once. They both know it’s deliberate, but his best friend gets to taste victory, which is important for lifting his mood.

The park is the only place the boy remembers from real life. He walked there with his parents before the night of the accident that took his family, a normal life, and his sight. Oli remembers nothing else. He was only three years old then. He hadn’t managed to see anything or go anywhere yet.

He comes here once a year, on the day of the accident. He doesn’t remember the date. His heart tells him when the time comes. His heart, filled to the brim with blood, clenches in his chest. It becomes no bigger than a cherry. It then sharply expands, bursts, splashing the pain of loss throughout his entire body. These are the sensations Oli experiences on that special day.

They eat cotton candy, just like when they were kids. They stroll along the quiet pond where boys row their girlfriends in pleasure boats, and they feed the pigeons and ducks. Judging by the smell, the birds have different bread now. That baguette smelled more like a sweet bun, but this one is ordinary. He wouldn’t be surprised if the local swans and ducks don’t eat it.

On this day, he wants most of all to imagine his parents, but their faces were not preserved in his childhood memory. No matter how hard he tries to find them in the past, he can’t. No matter how much he struggles, it’s useless. He clearly remembers their voices and the lullaby they sang before bedtime. That song is the only thing that helps him fall asleep.

The moment of the accident intrudes into his final memories. Understanding nothing, he looks at the headlights approaching from the darkness. He can only see his parents’ hair and shoulders. Their hands hold together. He sits in the back seat. He is securely fastened in the car seat that miraculously saved his life.

His parents turn to their son to say goodbye, knowing that everything will end badly. The oncoming car blinds the boy with its headlights, crashing into them at tremendous speed, like an arrow piercing a target. The hood crumples, the windshield shatters and flies into the car’s interior in sharp sprays, hitting his open little eyes. The bright light prevented him from seeing his parents’ faces one last time, and the darkness took away his ability to see the world they lived in. Oliver remained alone in the back seat, in the darkness of a new world.

As he got older, when he grew tired of living without seeing the existing world, he began to create a new one visible only to him. Now, he lives in his own universe, in his own worlds. He likes it. He hasn’t resigned himself; rather, he enjoys it. There is a degree of sadness, of course. That’s inevitable. But here, he lives a full life, one he doesn’t have in the real world, like most of the planet’s population. It’s still a matter of debate who is unlucky. Being blind doesn’t mean you don’t see. He sees more than others can ever see. One could envy his gift.

The quieting sounds of the city that houses the park, his last memory, betray the arrival of evening. It is the only place from the real world that he visits in his imagination. And now, it is time to return to his favorite world.

Of all the worlds and places he’s created, Oliver likes the cloud bridge over the ocean the most. Oli doesn’t exactly know what clouds, the ocean, or a bridge look like. Mike tells him everything. He knows everything about real life, even more than those who live in it. Thanks to his best friend, the creation of worlds became possible. You can’t minimize Mike’s role in Oliver’s life; he is why Oli is alive.

They return to the bridge together. They brought cotton candy. It’s indistinguishable from the clouds, only sweet. Few people have seen an oceanic calm. And the ocean itself doesn’t show itself to everyone. Mike told him what a mirror-calm is, and now the bridge, the clouds, and Mike are reflected in the mirror, but Oli doesn’t see his own reflection. He still hasn’t figured out what he looks like. To the touch, he can’t believe it, or doesn’t want to believe he has such an appearance. There’s something wrong with it. Mike won’t say. It doesn’t matter. What difference does it make what you look like if you’re surrounded by perfect beauty? If you become part of it, it will soak into your soul, and you’ll be beautiful.

Beautiful creatures, the Prophonids, live in Oliver’s ocean. They have perfectly smooth skin, like a baby’s. The boy knows for sure—he remembers his three-year-old skin to the touch. Their eyes are so pleasant. Michael says they have kind eyes. Oli doesn’t know what that means; to him, they’re pleasant. So deep, they seem like the entrance to a world he didn’t create. Sometimes, the feeling creeps up that the creator of the world is looking at him through those eyes.

His best friend helped him create giants. Michael called them whales. The names from the real world have no place here; now they are the Dibusai. Long, calm, and weightless. They often rest on the clouds, and when they fall asleep, they sometimes drop back into the ocean. The splashes scatter across the whole area, hitting the birds flying past.

The birds here are interesting. To the touch, they’re like the wind, just as delicate and soft. When they shake off the water that has landed on their wings, it creates a rainbow rain. Michael helped Oli remember what a rainbow looks like. It’s made from the flying droplets, like in a park. Their bodies are like wispy clouds, fluid, and refined. He painted them purple, a color he picked from the rainbow.

All the colors in the worlds appeared thanks to the memories of a rainbow. When he paints in one color and then changes his mind, the colors blend. The rainbow becomes more and more colorful. The shades depend on the time of day. During the day they are lighter, and at night, they aren’t darker, but richer. Now the sky is gradually becoming a rich blue, deep and mysterious. To slightly lighten the night, Mike purposely sprinkles white paint.

They sit on the bridge and think. Oli remembers today’s time in the park. Mike is always thinking about something, but he doesn’t say what. When Oliver asks, he answers, “About the moment.” And that’s right. What’s the point of thinking about anything else if you only have this moment? He has a wise friend. Without an age, he understands a lot, if not everything. How does he manage it?

Even best friends should have secrets, unless the truth threatens the life of the one from whom it’s being hidden. And in that case, the decision must be made by the one whose life depends on the truth. It’s better to die from the truth than to live a whole life in a lie. There shouldn’t be any more secrets. Mike’s silence is alarming. Oli wants to know, but why think about something bad afterward?

“Why are you two so sad?” their friend Mia joins the boys.

“Thinking,” Oli answers thoughtfully, handing over the cotton candy they specifically brought for her.

“And about what?” Mia sits down between them, enjoying the airy sweetness.

“About the moment,” Mike replies. No one is surprised or expects different words from him.

“What else?” Mia looks at Oli. She knows for sure he’s thinking about something else.

“About past moments,” the boy sighs heavily, remembering life before the accident, after it, and during it. He looks at his friends’ reflection in the ocean. Mia is there too.

“Why do you think about them? Is there something good for you there?” the girl is glowing with interest.

“There was good,” Oliver smiles, lightly and sadly.

“If something good happens, it will always be good, regardless of time and place.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Oli agrees. “It will always be good.”

“And what is it?” the girl’s interest only increases with every word.

“The thing that gave me this world instead of a grim reality.”

“Yes, you’re right, that’s good. Wait. Why do you talk as if there’s another world?” the girl seizes on his words.

“Oli’s tired. His tongue and thoughts are getting tangled,” Mike interjects, signaling to the boy that Mia doesn’t know about the other worlds and it’s better to keep it that way.

“No, he said it clearly,” the girl insistently searches for proof in Oliver’s eyes, but the boy is looking into the ocean.

“Mike’s right. I’m tired today,” Oli sighs heavily. “I’m talking nonsense. This is the only world we have.” He had noticed before that they never take Mia with them to other places, but he never thought about why.

“So, only this world exists? There’s nothing else?” the girl is disappointed and upset.

“It seems so,” Oli confirms in a sad voice. He becomes upset, imagining what life would be like if only the real world existed—the one in which he has nothing and no one.

“Maybe we can look for one?” the determined Mia suggests, not losing hope.

“You want to look?” Oli asks again. The boys exchange glances. Mike gives a subtle nod.

“I do! Right now!” the girl jumps up with joy. She steps onto the bridge. The clouds puff up under her feet.

“If you want it that badly, let’s go look,” Oli agrees with a smile, getting to his feet.

“Well, let’s go looking,” Mike reluctantly stands up.

“Which way do we fly?” Mia looks around, choosing the best direction.

“Your idea, you choose where we all go,” Mike offers the girl the freedom of choice with a smile.

“Then,” Mia spins around in place with an outstretched hand. She points at random. “That way!”

“Alright,” the boys exchange glances and shrug. “Nothing we can do,” Mike sighs heavily, realizing that everything will change now, and not just for Mia.

“Forward! To the search for other worlds!” the girl abruptly leaps from the spot. The cloud bridge ripples from her careless movement.

“Let’s catch up, or we won’t find her later. Our Mia is quick,” Oli hurries after her. Mike flies after them.

Cloud waves disperse across the bridge. It remains unharmed. It has withstood things real bridges could only dream of. At the beginning of his new life, Oliver suffered from severe migraines. All the worlds shuddered and rattled, ready to collapse. The bridge’s supports have not succumbed to the winds of change or the waves of obstacles. No amount of stress has been able to destroy them.

The bridge will stand as long as the boy is strong in spirit. As long as Oli doesn’t give up and surrender, everything else is nonsense. But if the cloud bridge falls, the worlds will crumble, and everything around will vanish. Then, there will only be darkness again. Mike tries not to tell his friend everything, so as not to destabilize the supports. It’s good that Oli doesn’t ask. He probably senses something is being hidden from him, something it’s better not to know.

Together, they catch up to Mia. They fly through the luscious celestial space, passing by the airborne islands made of a substance everyone here calls Altensa. It’s light and durable. These islands appeared in the first days when the boy decided he wouldn’t give up. Altensa consists of strong willpower. Wavy paryems twine around the islands like vines and stretch upwards, trying to reach the secrets of the universe. This is Oli’s vital interest.

Paryems fuel the airborne islands, maintaining their interest in life. The islands are inhabited by small creatures called Millitau. The tenderness the boy felt from his parents lives on in the fuzzy little creatures, each the size of a small ball. There are hundreds of them here.

Through Oli’s small hands, he felt the warmth, tenderness, and affection of his parents. The creatures love to play with the boy’s friends. They laugh, run, and jump around them. And right now, the Millitau leap onto the twining paryem stems, happy about the friends flying past. All the tenderness goes to the brave travelers.

The girl wants to play with the little ones; she often flies over to them. But what lies in the far corners of the world is so interesting. There’ll always be time to play. Interest wins. They fly past. The girl only waves from afar. The fluffballs practically jump after them. They fear they might jump and not be caught. The fear of being unreciprocated keeps them on the islands.

Mia can’t resist the temptation. For a second, she flies towards the little ones. Warm, soft balls cover the girl. They rejoice, laugh, and lick her face and hands. It’s ticklish and pleasant. Mike and Oli also allow themselves a moment of joy. The balls react the same way to Mike.

With Oli, everything is different. They gently press against him, stroking with closed eyes, hugging him with their entire bodies. He tries not to appear on the islands where tenderness envelops him. If he relaxes, tenderness fills him completely. He doesn’t need to go anywhere, doesn’t think about anything. Everything vanishes; only tenderness remains. He needs to fly away from here as quickly as possible. Oli is the first to emerge from the cozy embraces. The friends fly away, laughing happily and longing for the affection.

The wind of freedom picks them up. It often flies here, not allowing the world to wither. This is its breath. On the air current, they reach a high mountain. Unbreakable self-belief. Mia is envious. Oli’s mountain is enormous, but hers isn’t even a hill—just a small pile of stones.

The girl often flies here, sits nearby, and feels self-confidence and support. She feels safe. Oliver gladly shares. He has tried to share several times, but the material doesn’t take root. Her foundation is weak. Mia doesn’t believe in herself. The faith others have in her doesn’t last long.

Oli thinks he sees something. He looks closer. A cave has appeared in the mountain. It wasn’t there before. Mike thinks it’s doubt and despair that broke through there this afternoon when the world briefly went out during the fall. The cave of doubts never misses an opportunity to destroy mountains of confidence. The main thing is to immediately seal the weak spot. Oli decides to take a look. Mike tries to dissuade him, but not very convincingly. The boy goes alone. Everyone must deal with their doubts themselves. Only the one in whom they appear can destroy them.

The friends stay waiting outside. The girl takes advantage of the moment. She sits down by the mountain, leaning her back against it. Mike sits next to her. They’re waiting anyway, and confidence is never superfluous. Well, sometimes it is. But the amount they can access is far from overconfidence.

Oliver enters the cave. A chilling darkness reigns here, seeping into the soul. He walks slowly, constantly stumbling, trying not to fall. So far, he manages. The sensations here are the same as the moment he hit the shield in the park. He grows severely upset, reliving the harsh blow of reality to his face and the fall onto the hard ground.

The asphalt caused pain, but not maliciously. To comfort the boy, it became fresh after the rain and warm from the summer sun. Reality often pushes people and throws them to the ground. Most people unfairly view the asphalt as an enemy. Selflessly, it catches and supports us until we can stand. Yes, it hurts. It hurts the asphalt too. The force of action equals the force of reaction. Nevertheless, it catches everyone who falls. One shouldn’t immediately perceive as evil that which causes pain. Often, it’s done for our own good.

In the dark, he occasionally touches the walls. Doubts leave burns. He pulls his hands away so the doubts don’t seep into him. It’s painful, frightening, and unpleasant. He continues walking. To get rid of doubts, he must reach their very essence. Only by changing the perception of the essence can one be freed from false fears and anxieties.

A red light appears ahead. He walks toward it. This light is much softer than the sharp white light that blinded him in the car back then. He passes through a narrow opening toward the source. A white lamp glows red inside a glass cylinder, which is filled with a red, transparent liquid.

He opens the cylinder’s lid. Dipping his hand, he pulls the lamp out of the thick liquid. The light, which was previously muffled, breaks free, cutting his eyes with the harsh beams of oncoming headlights. A scorching pain. The blinding gradually fades. He sees his parents’ backs, just like before the accident. He reaches out to them. They turn around. The light of oncoming headlights.

A forceful impact throws the boy against the wall. The glass cylinder falls, shattering against the sharp stone floor. The red liquid spreads across the stones. The lamp falls from the boy’s hands and breaks. Sparks rise into the air, illuminating the space.

The entire floor is covered in red. Pieces of metal and shards lie everywhere. An unknown force presses the motionless boy against the wall. Gloomy thoughts permeate Oli. He has no strength to tear himself away. He feels like a child in the backseat. He grows cold, sad, and empty inside. The sparks go out. He doesn’t want to try to move anymore.

He remembers the park, all the colors of life, life itself in the faces and movements of people. He doesn’t have this in reality. The billboard reminded him of this, plunging his consciousness into darkness. That’s when dark doubts about the reality of his life arose. Is he even real in the created space? The cave appeared when the questions began to sound more and more frequent and loud. This is the essence of the doubts.

There is a real world where there is no place for Oli. There is another world, created by him, where it is peaceful, comfortable, and has everything he needs. There are friends he doesn’t have in the world everyone considers real. For him, this one seems more real, which means the other one is made up. There can only be one reality. And the doubts, born from a nonexistent world, are themselves unreal.

These fears and doubts don’t exist. The cave is unreal. Sparks ignite, returning to the reassembling lamp, submerging into the healed cylinder. All the red liquid once again fills the vessel, gradually becoming transparent. The pure light dissipates and gently forces Oliver out of the cave, filling the void with a bedrock of certainty.

Oliver is outside. The cave fully closes up. The surface evens out, becoming as it was before. The mountain is whole again. Mike deftly stands up, helping Mia to her feet. They greet their friend with smiles. They don’t ask about anything. It’s personal. The cave vanishes. The boy handled it.

They can move on. They return to the course Mia set. The mountain, a beacon, illuminates their path forward, radiating a light brighter than the sun. That’s how Mike describes it. He has seen the sun. There is nothing like it in this world. Here, it is either bright or saturated. Why have a luminous disk when they have light in their souls? The sky brightens. The soul feels lighter. The air becomes clearer.

Enormous jaidams float across the sky toward them. They are Oli’s cherished dreams, hidden from view beneath blocks of black ice. Ordinary people would perceive them as something frightening, dark, and menacing. For the boy, black is more familiar than other colors, so he concealed his most intimate secrets in something close to his sight.

He alone knows what is inside. Originally, they were caskets holding a small boy’s wishes. As he aged, the wishes grew more numerous. He grew up and dreamed. The small boxes turned into large chests. Not a single wish ever came true. The containers became covered in the eternal ice of disappointment.

He barely remembers what is inside. He doesn’t even want to recall it. He thinks it’s pointless. Mike often tries to persuade him to break the ice and free the wishes. The boy is waiting for them to become so heavy that they will collapse into the bottomless ocean or the abyss on the other side of the world, disappearing forever, ceasing to torment him with their unreality.

He is probably just afraid that his hidden dreams might come true. One of them is to see again. That is the one the boy fears most of all. This world could disappear. Only the noisy, hostile reality he has so successfully hidden from here for most of his life would remain. He watches the jaidams as they pass. He looks down. The water is far away. The blocks will keep reminding him of themselves for a long time yet. It’s pointless to wait for them to fall.

They fly onward. At first, Mia led them all on a quest for other places, but now she and Mike obediently follow Oli as observers of his search for himself. Or perhaps it’s not a search, but rather an awakening. He sees everything he had always closed his eyes to. Some things, like the jaidams, the islands, and the mountain of self-belief, appeared here on their own.

The strip in the sky also appeared on its own. A bright white spot on the left darkens closer to the right side, fading into the unknown, where it ends in a small black dot. About a third of the strip is before them. No one knows exactly what it is. Mike called it the Time Strip. He didn’t explain. He just said that when the time comes, Oli will find out for himself. They cannot move along the strip; it moves past them.

Oli floats through the air above the strip, while Mike and Mia dive under it. A ringing hum travels along the line in both directions. An air vortex swirls Mike’s best friends and tosses them into a space where the sky is covered in green wool, and the ground beneath them is carpeted with blue, wavy undulations covered in sharp furrows.

The sky is connected to the earth by twisted pipes tilted in different directions. A color-shifting liquid moves through them from bottom to top. Lifefin circulates through the dimensions like blood, connecting and nourishing the worlds. It is produced by imagination. Oliver often uses his imagination so that the worlds may live. It is an essential condition for their existence. If he stops fantasizing, all consciousness will again be filled with darkness and emptiness, as it was before the transformation.

Mike accidentally brushes against one pipe. Lifefin pours out like a waterfall. The walls of the world’s vessels only seem strong. In reality, they are thinner than capillaries. The section of the sky at the top base stops receiving the vital fantasies. Mike, drenched in lifefin, clamps the pipe from below to prevent losing the rest of what flows through this channel.

Oliver’s imagination kicks into full gear. The old, damaged pipe gradually disappears, and a new, still empty one appears in its place. A sphere filled with water materializes from the air before them, bursts, and releases air balloons in all the colors of the rainbow. As the balloons rise, they turn into colored birds and fly away freely with delighted cries.

They created and freed them. What could be better? Anyone would envy this. Especially Mia, who feels created and trapped in this world. The pipe fills up again with the changing lifefin. It is still dark, too saturated with fantasy. It will brighten when the birds scatter across the world. Now they fly more carefully. Mike is almost dry. The remaining lifefin runs down him into the deep blue furrows, transforming into young paryems stretching upwards.

New fantasies always create an interest in life. The stubborn plants twine around the important pipes, protecting them from damage. How did Oli not think of this before? Mike flies past all the pipes, wringing out his clothes and watering the bases with the nourishing lifefin for the paryems. The plants strengthen and protect almost all the pipes. There isn’t enough spilled liquid for the rest. They leave this task for next time.

This part of the world is something like a technical area, a transit point. And beyond it lie the other parts of the world they created. The green sky and the blue earth meet in one place, forming a narrow corridor. They can only pass through one at a time. The problem is that the unpredictable corridor can throw them into any of the parts. They cannot influence this in any way. It’s a long flight to the other, controllable, tunnel. That would take a lot of time, and Mia has even less patience than she has perseverance. They unanimously decide to go through here.

Oliver flies first, Mia immediately behind him, and Mike brings up the rear. To avoid getting lost, they hold onto the legs of the person flying in front. The more the corridor narrows, the faster they move. They gradually accelerate. The walls get closer. Their shoulders nearly touch the tunnel. The narrowing continues, leaving no free space.

Mia shouts something to Oliver. At this speed, the words turn into an incomprehensible sound of a single pitch. The girl’s grip loosens. Oli no longer feels his friend’s presence. He must not look back, or the direction of movement will change sharply, then he’ll be torn to pieces, and parts of his consciousness will be sent in every direction. That’s how they lost Doydish, one of their imaginary friends. Now he is with them and not with them; he is nowhere and everywhere. It’s better not to repeat that. Reuniting afterward is impossible.

The tunnel becomes the diameter of a finger. At the end of the path, Oli shoots out like an arrow at the speed of light. Consciousness returns when his body takes its usual form. Finally, he is on solid ground made of red crystals. Mike calls them rubies, and Oli calls them raidums. By the way, where are Mike and Mia? They came here for Mia. All he can do is hope they haven’t been torn apart. It’s pointless to return to the tunnel. The others could be anywhere. There is a chance they will meet in some other part of the world.

Something has changed here since the last visit. Now, when you step on the Raydoms, they crumble into small, sparkling yellow pebbles. Oly hasn’t seen these in his worlds yet. It’s a shame Mike isn’t around; he’d know what they’re called. The world’s creator doesn’t stay upset for long. The yellow stone is now called a Kaidum. Strange. There are many yellow tracks on the red field. Someone has been here without him. The footprints are clearly alien. All the images Oly has created are roughly his build. But these tracks are about three times bigger than usual.

There’s no sky here. The entire space is thickly filled with red and yellow luminescence from the stones. It’s something like a glowing, impenetrable fog. He’ll have to walk blindly. To the left, he hears the crunch of stones. Judging by the number of crushed Raydoms, the one who left those tracks is over there.

Oly tries to tread more carefully, crumbling as few stones as possible. Still, he gives himself away. The footsteps on the left draw closer. The boy runs toward the transition to the next section. And the unknown figure accelerates, breaking into a run. The footsteps grow louder. From the red glow, something several times his size flies out at him and knocks him down. Raydoms crush beneath their bodies, digging into their imaginary flesh.

Oly instantly thinks the giant will kill him. Sharp green shards fly over them—another new sight for the boy. His consciousness is saved by the stranger. They don’t rush to get up. They want to be sure there won’t be any more flying, deadly particles. It seems quiet.

They stand up, brushing off the yellow pebbles. The wounds immediately close. A man of impressive size stands before Oly. His body is metal-heavy, made of opaque yellow stones. Something unknown, strange, and unfamiliar hides in the behemoth’s face. If the giant saved him instead of killing him, they can talk.

“Hello, stranger,” Oly says, masking a slight fear.

“Hello, Oliver,” the humble giant replies.

“You know my name?” the boy asks, surprised.

“Of course, I do.”

“How?”

“I live in your world, so I’m a part of your essence.”

“You live in my essence?”

“I live in all people.”

“Why are you so huge?”

“I occupy a larger part of the soul than all the other facets of character.”

“Who are you?” Oly’s curiosity gets the better of him.

“Usually, they call me Avarice, but I prefer Alt,” the new acquaintance answers in a low voice, smiling modestly.

“Alright, I’ll call you Alt.”

“Thank you,” the giant seems a little embarrassed, pleased by the boy’s welcoming gesture.

“So, what kind of essence are you?” Oliver cautiously clarifies, watching him closely.

“I generate in people the desire to possess treasures, wealth, to create them, and to take them from others. Because of me, people argue and even kill each other,” Alt says with quiet regret, lowering his eyes in shame for his innate nature.

“You bring evil and harm people?” Oly’s brow furrows at the unexpected, unpleasant news.

“It appears so,” the giant sighs heavily and sadly.

“Why do you do it?”

“I don’t know; it just sort of happens.”

“If you generate evil, then why did you save me from the green shards?”

“They’re emeralds,” Alt explains hesitantly.

“A beautiful name,” Oly muses. “I guess I’ll keep it. Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome,” the giant smiles again at the boy’s kindness.

“So why didn’t you let me die?” Oly repeats the question.

“If you die, I’ll vanish too, along with this entire world,” Alt surveys the glowing expanse with a melancholy gaze.

“Only because of that?”

“No. I don’t like doing bad things. I love doing good. A second essence lives within me. Everyone calls her Generosity.”

“So are you this kind to everyone?”

“No. In most people, I become evil myself, swelling up to the size of skyscrapers.”

“Then why didn’t you turn evil in me?” Oliver asks, realizing he’s an exception to the general rule.

“I don’t need to with you,” Alt smiles easily.

“How so?” Oly wonders, trying to understand.

“You’re not greedy or materialistic at all. You don’t desire wealth, especially at the expense of others, hurting them. If the owner of the essence is kind and not avaricious, then I don’t need to be that way, either.”

“Now I get it. And when did you appear? I hadn’t seen you before or created an image.”

“I’m like the floating islands of Altensa and the mountains of self-belief. I am a given, existing regardless of other conditions.”

“But why are you alive?” Oly peers into the opaque, heavy body.

“Avarice is born and grows in a person along with them. The older the person is, the greater the avarice within them. I was very small and unnoticeable before. You haven’t been to this part of the world in a while; I’ve had time to grow.”

“Okay, Alt. What do you even do here?” the boy looks around the new, imagined place in his consciousness.

“Nothing. I idle,” the modest, good-natured behemoth sighs sadly.

“Completely?”

“With you, I’m unemployed. No matter how much I whisper to you about riches, you don’t want to possess them. And if a person doesn’t want wealth, Avarice simply waits for its moment.”

“And what if that moment never comes?”

“It always comes,” Alt convinces him confidently.

“Will it come for me, too?”

“Possibly,” the giant watches closely, as if trying to see the boy’s future. “I think so.”

“How is that possible if I don’t need anything? I don’t want anything like that.”

“You might want it not for yourself, but for someone else.”

“For whom?” Oly thinks, realizing he only has imaginary friends.

“You’ll understand yourself when a person appears in your life for whom you’d agree to give everything you have and even more. And if the necessary wealth isn’t there, then it will be my turn to seek out the needed treasures.”

“And you’ll find them?” Oly is openly surprised by the giant’s certainty.

“I will find them. If the person is worth it,” Alt speaks about such things with absolute seriousness.

“And how will you know if they are or not?” the boy has no such knowledge at all. Every new sentence is a revelation.

“If you desire wealth, it won’t be for no reason—I know that for sure,” the giant smiles with an experienced look.

“We’ll see. Right now, I don’t need anything. I need to find my friend Mike and my friend Mia,” Oly anxiously recalls losing his friends. “Do you know where they are?”

“How much are you willing to pay for the information?” Alt asks seriously.

“What do you mean? How would I pay you?”

“Sorry, I was joking,” the behemoth apologizes with a smile. “That’s our special kind of humor—us greed-types.”

“Ah, I understand,” Oly smiles reservedly in return.

“I’ll guide you to the neighboring section. It’s not far from here,” Alt looks through the glowing fog. “Your friends might be there,” the giant offers.

“Great, I’d be grateful for the help,” hope awakens in Oly alongside his worries for his friends.

“I’m already grateful to you,” Alt smiles sincerely.

“For what?” the boy asks, completely clueless.

“For still allowing me to live in your world.”

“I don’t mind,” Oly replies generously. “Live as long as you want.”

“And also for talking to me. It’s lonely here. And I have no one to talk to.”

“Of course, no problem. If you want, come to the Cloud Bridge; we’re usually there with friends.”

“You’re suggesting I be friends with you?” Alt is pleasantly surprised, not believing his ears.

“Yes, why not? As I see it, you’re a good person, and you always need good friends. So, will you come once we find my friends?”

“I’ll definitely come!” the giant exclaims happily.

“And do you know where the Cloud Bridge is?” Oliver clarifies, noting his new acquaintance’s exceptional modesty.

“I know. But will it hold me?” Alt wonders, doubting because of his size and weight. He looks at the boy sadly.

“In that section, everyone weighs exactly as much as they want. If you wish, you can fly. And when you get tired of it, you can lie down on the ocean floor. And the bridge will hold anything.”

“That’s interesting,” the giant’s smile returns to his face, and his eyes light up with joy.

“Well, that’s great! Then, come visit.”

“Good, I’ll definitely come,” Alt smiles dreamily.

“Is it far to the entrance to the next section?”

“We’re close now. Be careful!” the giant warns anxiously.

“Why? What’s dangerous there?”

“Anger lives there,” Alt whispers, looking around.

“Who’s that?” the boy asks, puzzled.

“You haven’t met him. That guy destroys everything good in a person.”

“Is that even possible?” Oly asks, astonished.

“When a person allows anger to penetrate their essence, darkness envelops and consumes the bright soul. Then, only anger and rage remain there.”

“That’s unsettling,” the boy looks ahead worriedly.

“That’s good. You’d better be careful,” Alt warns him with complete seriousness.

“I’ll try. Thanks for the advice.”

“I hope you manage to leave him untainted.”

“I hope so, too,” Oly smiles uncertainly.

“When you reach the bridge, let me know, alright?” the giant asks, looking forward to meeting his new friends again.

“How should I tell you?”

“Just think of precious stones. And I’ll appear immediately.”

“And what are they—precious stones?” Oly repeats the new name, unfamiliar with it.

“They’re what you have under your feet,” Alt laughs. “In the world of people, they’re highly valued. Sometimes more highly than the people themselves,” he adds wistfully.

“Okay,” Oly tries to remember what the stones under his feet look like. “Can I ask one more question?”

“Of course, ask away,” Alt tries to be good-natured and open in their conversation.

“What are you made of? What kind of stones are these?”

“Not stones—they’re gold nuggets,” the giant smiles.

“So that’s what gold is,” the boy looks closer so he’ll know for the future. “I’ve heard of it, but I didn’t know what it looked like.”

“Gold comes in different forms. They make beautiful, shiny jewelry and various objects from it. Sometimes people say, ‘golden hands,’ so don’t mix it up—those aren’t hands made of gold, but hands so skillful that you can do everything as if you were creating gold jewelry. And you won’t be able to do much with hands of gold, believe me,” Alt laughs, showing his large golden hands. He speaks like a simple boy, not a giant. It’s hard to feel negatively toward him.

“Alright, I believe you,” Oly smiles. “I’ll try not to mix them up.”

“We’re here,” the giant leads the boy to a black faceted crystal about halfway in size between Alt and Oly.

“And what do I do now?” Oly peers into the black crystal.

“When you’re ready, just put your hand on it,” Alt reaches out his golden hand but doesn’t touch the crystal.

“Thanks for the help, Alt. I’ll wait for you at the bridge,” Oly reminds him with a smile.

“I’ll await the invitation,” the giant is already happy about the long-anticipated opportunity.

“It’s a deal. Don’t get lonely here,” Oly says with a farewell smile, reaching out his hand to the black crystal.

“I won’t,” Alt hides his sadness, but the smile still comes out mournful.