LUION. ®.

 

LUION. ®.  

A Story by Jorge Ofitas.

Genres: 

Technological Science-Fiction, 

Cosmic Epic, Metaphysics, 

Poetry, Romanticism.

Magical realism.

Characters

Luion Zero Max

Rubieta Flor de Lis

Mercurio Hermes

Polaris Jazmín Azahar

Synopsis

A distinguished, advanced computer engineer bids farewell to his long-standing company to secure the time needed to develop a mysterious investigation into the cosmos and its hidden vibrations.

LUION. ®.  

Luion Zero Max requested his dismissal from the Japanese IT firm where he worked. He stepped out, climbed into his cherished, shimmering cinnamon-colored Maserati, and accelerated onto the highway, near the curve of the rugged coast. Before heading to his laboratory to pursue his inquiries, he stopped by the specialized shop owned by his friend, Metálicos.

"What do you mean?" Metálicos asked, though the depths of his eyes reflected that he knew the answer perfectly well.

"You know very well what I mean," Luion replied, resting his hands on the counter covered in iron filings. "The vibration computer."

Metálicos warned him gravely that, should he be caught selling it, the electric chair—or something worse—would await him. Then, with a bead of cold sweat, he added, "Well, well... but at least you’ll tell me what you want that computer for, won't you?"

Luion replied with a smile, "If I tell you, you will know as much as I do." And he left the premises.

Shortly thereafter, Luion was already within his high-tech laboratory. He projected his computer toward the stars through the aperture in his vast workshop that overlooked the sky. Once everything was connected, silence fell; everything went dark and then sparked back to life. Subsequently, a note appeared on one of the three screens of the three systems he possessed:

"The navigator assumes full responsibility should he undertake this adventure without a clean conscience or while bearing karmic faults."

While he typed and programmed potential contacts, trusting that if the vibration computer captured anything he would know instantly, he launched his codes into space. Afterward, he began to think about himself; reflecting on the fact that the following day would be Valentine's Day and he would be left to "dance with the broom."

The silence of the laboratory, broken only by the almost organic hum of the vibration computer, was left behind when Luion decided to step out. He left the equipment running, with the codes for his Super Beings traveling toward the unknown and the warning regarding karmic faults glowing in the darkness of the screen.

Luion possessed the three most powerful systems, which he had manufactured himself. His idea was to "cast his line" into the mysterious immensity, hoping to catch something. He wrote three messages, each for a different system and directed toward a different region of the known and unknown Universe. He made three requests, all based on contacting civilizations—attempting to reach three luminous beings from civilizations inhabiting lands beyond the belt of the Great Abyss.

He went out into the garden, beneath that starry sky he had strived so hard to scrutinize. The night air was cool and restorative. He lay back on a sun lounger, letting the tension accumulated since his departure from the Japanese company and his encounter with Metálicos dissolve beneath the vastness of the cosmos. There, surrounded by the silence of nature and the distant echo of the sea, he fell fast asleep.

While he rested, the vibration computer continued its work inside the bunker, tuning into frequencies that do not belong to this world and awaiting a response that was on the verge of manifesting.

What does Luion dream of on that night before Valentine's Day, while his machine agitates the strings of the universe?

He was there, deep in sleep upon the hammock under the mantle of stars, with a very powerful flashlight resting between his hands. The silence of the garden was absolute, interrupted only by the distant echo of the vibration computer still working inside the laboratory.

Suddenly, Luion opened his eyes. He awoke with a sudden clarity, as if the dream had revealed something of vital importance. Without rising, he pressed the switch. The beam of light—dense and whitish—pierced the darkness of the garden and projected directly toward the infinite sky. He began to switch it on and off, on and off.

The rhythm of the flashes was not random. It seemed a manual response, a personal code attempting to communicate with what he had just witnessed in his dreams or with what the computer was capturing at that precise instant. Each pulse of light was a silent cry toward the stars, a position signal from a navigator who, despite his possible karmic faults, was ready for whatever was about to descend.

What was Luion trying to say with those flashes before returning to the laboratory to check the screens?

During one of the moments Luion switched off his flashlight, he was struck motionless, in a genuine state of shock. There, in the depths of the firmament, a star—one of those eternal lights that had always seemed mute—began to send him intermittent signals.

It was no casual flicker, nor an atmospheric effect; it was a light code vibrating in the heavens with the same intent with which he pulsed his flashlight from the hammock. A star in the firmament, perhaps situated on the other side of the universe, was engaging in a visual dialogue with him.

Luion, his heart racing, understood that the vibration computer had not only sent his codes but had built a bridge. The solitude of Valentine’s Day and the thought of "dancing with the broom" began to vanish before the magnitude of what he was witnessing: the universe was looking back at him.

He remained there, lying down beneath that bombardment of intermittent light, feeling how each flash from the star resonated with his own codes.

Before Luion could even assimilate the wonder of the intermittent signals returned by the star, the silence of the garden was shattered in the most unexpected way. He felt a chill that was not a product of the night air. Just behind him, a female voice—clear and possessing a serenity that seemed not to belong to this plane—broke the void.

"You are the owner of this..." she left the sentence hanging in the air, as if recognizing the place or Luion himself.

Luion sat petrified in the hammock, the flashlight still in his hand. That voice had the texture of silk and the precision of the codes he had just launched into space. This was no common intruder; her presence there, in the private and protected bunker of a man seeking Super Beings, was an impossible fact that defied all physical security.

Slowly, he began to turn his head toward the source of the voice, while the star in the firmament continued to flash, as if introducing the newcomer.

Luion remained frozen, his heart pounding against his chest. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of that voice which cut through the air with the precision of a diamond. The woman stood there, in the shadows of the garden, bathed slightly by the light of the stars still blinking in the firmament. Her voice sounded again, serene and resolute:

"You are the owner of this program that has brought me here."

Luion could not articulate a word. That sentence confirmed the impossible: the vibration computer had not only sent a signal but had served as a beacon for something, or someone, to cross the frontier between the World of Ideas and physical reality. The program, his codes of aerial beauty and his Super Beings, had acted as a magnet for that presence now observing him from the darkness of his own garden.

The warning about karmic faults flashed back into his mind like lightning. The navigator was no longer alone before the telescope; the adventure had come to life and was looking him in the eye.

Luion slowly sat up in the hammock, without looking away from that figure who seemed to have emerged from the very light of the stars. The initial shock transformed into a spark of intellectual recognition, as if he were fitting the final piece of a cosmic puzzle. He stared at her fixedly, analyzing every feature under the Belita illumination that seemed to emanate from her own presence, and finally said:

"Ah... you must be Rubieta."

The name hung suspended in the garden air, vibrating at the same frequency as the laboratory computer. It was the name of his creation, the archetype he had designed with such zeal in his algorithms of aerial beauty and perfection. She remained motionless, observing him with a calm that was not of this world, while in the sky, the star continued its intermittent signals, as if celebrating the encounter between the programmer and his materialized work.

Her response fell upon the garden with the softness of a petal, yet with the force of an absolute truth. She did not move, but her mere presence seemed to reorder the atoms of the place.

"Yes, sir. I am Rubieta Flor de Lis."

As she spoke her full name, the air around her vibrated with a special intensity, as if the name were the access key to a higher dimension. Luion felt that the bunker, the Maserati, and even his own history were relegated to the background before the magnitude of what stood before him. Rubieta’s beauty was not merely visual; it was a pure frequency that enveloped everything.

This was no longer a dream, nor a simulation on his three systems. The vibration program had brought to reality the very essence of his search. Meanwhile, above, the star in the firmament maintained its intermittent dialogue, as if bearing witness that the encounter between the navigator and the Flor de Lis had just changed the laws of physics.

Luion, still with the flashlight in hand, realized that the Valentine's Day about to begin would no longer be a solitary dance with the broom. The scientist, slowly regaining his composure after the initial impact, showed his host’s hospitality. With a gentlemanly gesture, he offered her a seat in the garden and asked if she wished for something to refresh herself.

She, maintaining that serenity that seemed to emanate from her own light, replied with a voice that allowed no rebuttal:

"No, we do not partake in such things."

She paused briefly, and her eyes, which seemed to contain the brilliance of the intermittent star, locked onto Luion’s with a solemn urgency.

"Furthermore, before proceeding, you must seal this device with your fingerprint, so that my civilization may know I am well here."

Rubieta Flor de Lis extended toward him a device of unknown technology, an object vibrating subtly at the same frequency as the laboratory computer. Luion understood that this gesture was the final contract, the definitive bond that would unite his existence with those beings he had just invoked from the other side of the universe.

Without hesitation, Luion moved his hand toward the device. He knew that by placing his print, he was not only notifying them of Rubieta’s arrival but signing his own entry into an adventure from which there would be no return.

Just a moment before Luion’s skin touched the surface of the Essence Synchronizer—for that is how that object felt, like a bridge between two worlds—a vibrant, whitish light erupted from the center of the artifact. It was not a flat projection; it was a small holographic screen containing an imposing presence. There appeared a Being of Light, a figure whose morphology recalled that of Rubieta Flor de Lis, but with a clearly masculine energy, more robust in its glow. His body was not made of flesh, but of a cohesive energy that radiated ancestral authority. His eyes were not eyeballs, but two cores of pure light that seemed to scan not only Luion’s body, but his very karmic trajectory.

The garden fell into a sacred silence. Even the intermittent star in the firmament seemed to stop its blinking to listen. The Being of Light opened his mouth, and his voice did not come from the screen, but resonated directly within Luion’s bone structure, as if his bones were the resonance chamber.

The Being of Light said:

"Navigator of the code, the seal you are about to stamp is not a signature on a contract, but the opening of your DNA to the frequency of the Altos Trigos. Are you prepared for your human trace to be integrated into the network of the Super Beings?"

Luion felt a shiver. He looked at Rubieta, who remained in absolute calm, and then looked back at the luminous male questioning him from the artifact. The question was not trivial; it was the final warning before the vibration program ceased to be an experiment and became his new reality.

The Being of Light, whose beauty was almost painful to behold for its foreignness to human canons—a harmony of proportions and radiance that has no name in our tongue—softened his gaze of pure energy. Seeing Luion’s readiness, the severity of the interrogation transformed into a solemn welcome. That luminous male, the masculine reflection of the perfection Rubieta Flor de Lis represented, decreed with a voice that vibrated like a perfect chord:

"Thank you for receiving Rubieta. You may come here whenever you wish."

Those words were not just an invitation; they were the granting of an interdimensional passport. By telling him he could go there "whenever he wished," the Being of Light was handing Luion the key to that civilization of the Altos Trigos, the place where avatars heal themselves and matter knows no error.

Luion stood speechless. For a moment, the bunker, his three computer systems, and even the memory of his cinnamon Maserati seemed like children's toys compared to the vastness of the world that had just opened before him. The solitude of Valentine's Day had dissolved in an instant: he was no longer a castaway on Earth; he was an honored guest of the universe.

Rubieta Flor de Lis nodded slightly, as if her superior's permission were the final validation of her presence in Luion’s garden. The air, which until a second ago was pure peace and light, tensed violently. Suddenly, a deep, metallic shimmering began to pulse through the entire structure—a sound that did not come from the ground but descended through the roof, as if an invisible force were causing the concrete and steel beams of the bunker to vibrate.

It was a strange sound, a lament of materials that seemed to speak, a frequency that clashed directly with the harmony the Being of Light had brought. Luion Zero Max and Rubieta Flor de Lis stood static, like two pillars of salt in the middle of the garden. She, who until then was the personification of calm, tilted her head slightly, sensing with her superior sensitivity that something foreign to the program—something not listed in the coordinates of the Altos Trigos—was trying to force its way in from above.

That shimmering was not the response of the star, nor was it the voice of the civilization of light. It was something physical, heavy, that seemed to be "walking" or pressing upon the laboratory roof, right above where the three systems remained switched on, processing the codes.

Luion felt the hair on his arms stand on end. In his private bunker, in his impregnable refuge, something was breaking protocol.

The figure descended from above, defying gravity with a breath-taking elegance. Despite the shimmering that had shaken the roof, his landing was as silent as a feather. He was a tall being, of an almost geometric slenderness, dressed in a combination of brown and orange colors, as if fashioned from earth and autumnal fire. On his back he carried a quiver with a bow and arrows, but most incredible were his feet: he wore leather sandals that had integrated wings, fluttering slightly to stabilize his arrival.

That presence did not emit the white light of Rubieta, but a warm, organic, and vibrant energy. He looked like a messenger from the most ancient myths, but with a biological technology Luion could not fathom. He stopped before them, with the sharp gaze of one who has crossed unthinkable distances to deliver an urgent message.

Luion, with his finger still near the fingerprint artifact, understood that the garden had become the epicenter of a universal gathering. The orange of his clothing contrasted with the deep blue of the night, creating a scene that no vibration computer could have simulated. Rubieta Flor de Lis did not seem frightened, but her light changed tone, recognizing the hierarchy of the newcomer.

Luion Zero Max, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what he was witnessing in his own garden, put his hands to his head in a gesture of pure human incredulity. The contrast was absolute: Rubieta Flor de Lis on one side, the masculine Being of Light on the artifact screen, and now this winged archer of autumnal colors before him.

"Peace, please..." Luion stammered, feeling the bunker air charge with an almost unbearable static electricity. "I never believed it would work out... forgive me, who are you? Who are you?"

The man in brown and orange did not draw his bow. On the contrary, his presence brought a different kind of calm—more physical and earthly than Rubieta’s. His winged sandals stopped fluttering when his feet touched the garden floor, and the shimmering on the roof ceased abruptly, leaving a spectral silence.

The newcomer looked at Luion with eyes that seemed to have seen the birth of forests and the end of eras. His orange attire vibrated under the light of the intermittent star as he took a step forward.

"Fear not, navigator of the Maserati and the codes," the figure replied with a voice that sounded like creaking wood and wind through the leaves. "You have opened a door that had been sealed for millennia by the padlock of human logic. If Rubieta is the light that guides, I am the guardian of the paths that connect your flesh with the Altos Trigos."

Then, he looked at the artifact where Luion was to place his print and added: "They call me the Tracker of Organic Frequencies. I have descended because the pulse of your flashlight did not only reach the stars but awakened those of us who guard the frontier. You are about to seal a pact, Luion. Do you truly know what it means for a man of your time to invite the Flor de Lis into his home?"

Luion was breathless, finally recognizing the figure before him. That elegance was not of this century, but of a time when gods walked among men.

"Mercurio!" Luion exclaimed, the name echoing in the laboratory walls like a long-sought frequency. "It’s the Talaria!" he said, pointing to the winged sandals still vibrating on the messenger’s ankles.

The newcomer nodded with an intelligent smile, adjusting a cropped cap that crowned his head with the same distinction as his brown and orange clothing. He was not a warrior, though he carried the bow and arrows with an astonishing naturalness; he was the absolute communicator, the bridge between worlds.

"So it is, Luion," said Mercurio, his voice flowing with the speed of thought. "Do not be so surprised. You yourself provoked this. By switching on that vibration computer, you did not only launch codes into space, you invoked the wisdom of Mercurio. You have used technology to call upon what has always been there. That is why it was so easy for me to arrive; your program created a direct communication tunnel, a data highway that my civilization crossed in a heartbeat."

Rubieta Flor de Lis bowed her head to him. The light of the intermittent star seemed to shine with greater strength, recognizing that the messenger of the gods and the flower of light were now under the same roof. Mercurio took a step toward the artifact where Luion was to place his print and, with an elegant gesture of his hand, pointed to the small screen where the Being of Light continued to observe.

"The path is clear, navigator," Mercurio continued. "You have brought beauty and invoked wisdom. Now, the universe awaits your confirmation."

The moment was of a beauty that surpassed any algorithm Luion could have programmed. Rubieta Flor de Lis, that tall, slender, and svelte presence who seemed sculpted from pure light, stood looking at Mercurio. It was not a look of surprise, but of absolute recognition, as if two halves of the same musical note finally met in the vastness of the cosmic silence.

Before Luion’s astonished eyes, Rubieta’s light began to pulse at the same rhythm as the messenger’s brown and orange colors. The wisdom of Mercurio and the beauty of the Flor de Lis were drawn together by an irresistible gravitational force. In that garden, beneath the Valentine's Day sky, Rubieta seemed to fall desperately in love with the vibration emanating from Mercurio.

Without a word, with an elegance that defied human laws, the two merged in an embrace. It was an embrace that was not merely physical, but a union of frequencies. Her luminosity and his autumnal fire created a radiance that momentarily blinded the scientist. When Luion could open his eyes again, the garden was silent.

They had departed together.

No one knows where they went. Perhaps they returned to the Altos Trigos, or perhaps they were lost in that star which flashed intermittent signals on the other side of the universe. The only thing left in the bunker was the echo of the shimmering on the roof and the scent of ozone and fresh flowers Rubieta had left in her wake.

Luion remained alone in the twilight, with the cinnamon Maserati resting outside and his three systems still switched on, showing on their screens the trace of a connection that no longer existed. It was the most unexpected end for the scientist. Luion stayed there, his finger suspended a few centimeters from the artifact, which was now slowly fading until it became a mere piece of inert metal. The print was no longer necessary; there was no contract to seal, no civilization to confirm. The portal had closed with the same elegance with which it had opened.

The silence in the bunker was now denser, charged with the residue of an energy that did not belong to this world. Luion lowered his hand, looked at his own fingerprint—a simple pattern of flesh and skin—and then looked toward the empty space where, a second before, Light and Wisdom had embraced. In the midst of that technological solitude, an ironic and somewhat bitter smile formed on his face. He sat in the hammock, placed the flashlight on the ground, and in a jocular tone that echoed off the concrete walls, said to himself:

"It could have happened to me..."

He was referring, of course, to that rapture of absolute love, to that flight into the unknown. He, who had designed the program, who had invested his fortune and his time in searching for the Super Beings so as not to be alone on Valentine's Day, had just become the "matchmaker" of a cosmic encounter. He remained as a luxury spectator of his own creation, watching how Beauty and Wisdom departed hand in hand, leaving him with his three computers and his cinnamon Maserati.

Outside, the Valentine's night began to brighten. Luion stood up, walked to the corner of the laboratory, and grabbed the broom. The dance he had predicted was about to be fulfilled, but now with a story that no one on Earth would ever believe.

Luion lay back again in the hammock, his gaze fixed on that firmament which now appeared to him as a map full of scribbles. The silence of the garden was absolute, but in his head, the algorithms would not stop spinning. He began to mentally review every line of code, every frequency of vibration he had launched into space from his three systems.

Then, a thought struck him with the coldness of a lightning bolt: he had made a mistake. He had designed everything mathematically. He had programmed the system to attract three intergalactic appearances, three representatives of different civilizations that were to complete the circle of his experiment.

Rubieta Flor de Lis, the luminous beauty, had arrived. Mercurio, the winged wisdom of orange and brown, had descended.

But, according to his calculations and the energy the vibration computer had displaced, one was missing. The third Super Being had not manifested, or perhaps it had remained crouched in the folds of space-time while the other two departed in their eternal embrace.

Luion felt a shiver. If the third guest had not appeared before him, where was it? Had it remained trapped in the roof of the laboratory after the shimmering? Or was it perhaps a presence that needed neither light nor wings to be noticed? He remained motionless in the hammock, holding his breath. He no longer looked at the stars, but at the shadows projected by the trees in his garden.

There was Luion, immersed in that deep meditation, trying to decipher why the third guest had not shown up for the appointment. In an almost mechanical way, like a reflex dictated by a mania that had always accompanied him, his hand sought the powerful flashlight. Almost without realizing it, driven by that inertia of the navigator who does not surrender, he began to project the beam of light into the void once more. On and off. On and off. It was a rhythmic pulse, a nervous tic of his consciousness seeking answers in the blackness of the cosmos.

And then, it happened again.

The star in the firmament, the one that had already answered him before, seemed to awaken at the call of his flashlight. In the immensity of the sky, that eternal point of light began to send him intermittent signals with a renewed intensity. It was no longer a dialogue of two; now it was a call for help or confirmation toward that third being who was yet to appear. The star vibrated with a different, more urgent frequency, as if pointing to a specific place in the sky or coordinating the descent of the missing piece in Luion's puzzle.

Luion sat up in the hammock, his eyes fixed on the stellar blinking. He understood that the experiment had not ended with the flight of Rubieta and Mercurio. That star was not just a beacon; it was the engine of the third appearance.

The garden was flooded with a vibration so dense that Luion felt his very bones begin to buzz in harmony with it. There, just where the beam of his flashlight ended, the third appearance materialized. She was a woman of a nature completely different from Rubieta's. Her skin was not white, but shimmered in greenish tones—a range of greens reminiscent of the aurora borealis or the depth of a virgin forest. Her eyes were immense, deep, and magnetic, capable of containing entire galaxies in her gaze. But most striking was her hair: a neon mane with a life of its own, threads of pure energy that moved and undulated as if submerged in an invisible ocean.

It was not merely an image; it was pure ethereal energy. Luion could feel the shockwaves of her presence hitting his chest, a vibration that ran through his body from feet to head. The scientist, the owner of the bunker, the man who believed he had control over his three computers, remained totally blocked. The flashlight remained lit in his hand, but he was unable to move a single muscle. The air around him became electric. That extraterrestrial woman needed neither wings nor speeches; she was the very pulse of intergalactic life.

They stood like that, face to face: the man of Earth with his small flashlight and the neon-green woman who vibrated with the force of a sun. The silence was so absolute that Luion could hear his own blood circulating, mixed with the humming of that ethereal presence. The neon-green woman, whose vibration made even the garden air seem solid, softened her glow. Her immense eyes fixed on Luion's with a tenderness that instantly calmed the buzzing in his bones. With a voice that was not sound, but a wave of energy that translated directly into his mind, she said:

"Forgive me, I have arrived and I did not even warn you. I come... I am an envoy of Mercurio."

Luion, still with the flashlight in hand, felt the puzzle finally fit together. The god of the winged sandals had not simply left with Rubieta Flor de Lis due to a romantic impulse; before departing, he had left a "relay frequency." This woman of greenish tones and neon hair was the final bridge, the official messenger Mercurio had sent so that Luion would not remain an orphan of knowledge in his bunker.

She vibrated with an organic peace, as if she represented the part of nature that the scientist had tried to capture with his equipment. Being an envoy of Mercurio, she brought with her the answer to all the questions Luion had asked himself during the nights of solitude before the vibration computer.

"He knew you would stay here meditating on the failure of the program," she continued, while her neon hair drew trails of light in the darkness. "And he asked me to manifest myself so you would understand that the third contact was not an error, but a delivery."

Luion finally released the air he had been holding. The Valentine's Day he had so feared—the one of "dancing with the broom"—had been transformed into a diplomatic summit between Earth and the stars. The name fell upon the garden like a balm of freshness: Polaris Jazmín Azahar.

It was a name that blended the eternal fixedness of the North Star with the purest fragrance of the earth. As she extended her hand toward Luion, the air became impregnated with a scent that did not come from any flower in the garden, but from the very vibration of her greenish skin.

Luion stood looking at that extended hand. It was not a human hand, but it was the most perfect hand he had ever seen: ethereal, firm, and charged with a static electricity that made the hair on his arms move in unison with her neon hair.

"I am Polaris Jazmín Azahar," she repeated, and her voice caused the three computer systems in the bunker to emit a perfect synchronization beep, as if they had finally found the note they had been seeking for years.

Upon touching her, Luion understood that she was not just an envoy; she was the synthesis of everything he had tried to program: the precision of the stars and the fragrance of life. The "failure" he thought he had in his calculation was no such thing; Polaris was the organic response to his technological search.

"I am Polaris Jazmín Azahar."

At the instant Luion's hand comes into contact with that of Polaris Jazmín Azahar, a chain reaction occurs that no sensor in his three computers could have recorded. It is not just a handshake; it is a transfer of absolute energy. Luion feels how every atom of his body ignites, illuminating completely from within, as if he himself had become a star of the firmament.

Bathed in that pure white radiance, he rises from the chair with a lightness he had never experienced. The heaviness of the world, the weariness of the bunker, and the melancholy of Valentine's Day dissolve in that light.

Then, Polaris, with her large, beautiful eyes fixed on him and her neon hair vibrating more strongly than ever, communicates her cosmic sentence to him:

"I am sorry, but your destiny is to abandon Earth. The messenger, the great god Mercurio, has told me that you must come up there with us. So, let us go."

The envoy's words leave no room for doubt. The vibration program was not a simple experiment to observe from a distance; it was the preparation of his own body for the definitive journey. The Creator no longer belongs to the bunker, nor to the cinnamon Maserati, nor to the logic of men. His frequency has been tuned for the Altos Trigos.

Luion looks one last time at his laboratory, aware that the bridge he built with his flashlight and his codes is now the path he must travel.

Luion felt the density of his body fade, becoming a luminous mist that barely touched the garden floor. He was no longer the man who drove a Maserati; he was pure frequency in expansion. With that new lightness, he approached the greenish figure of Polaris Jazmín Azahar, whose neon presence seemed to vibrate at his proximity.

Knowing that his time on Earth was running out and that he was about to cross the threshold into the unknown, Luion looked into those immense eyes and, with a mixture of humility and human desire, made a request.

"Look, I don't know where I'm going or who you really are," he said with an ethereal voice, "but I would ask you to let me give you a kiss before I disappear. May I give you a kiss?"

Polaris, who came from a civilization of the Altos Trigos where communication and union were governed by codes of light and pure vibrations, tilted her head slightly, processing that human concept so foreign to her world. Her neon hair flashed with curiosity as she replied with total innocence:

"What is that?"

The question remained floating in the bunker air. For her, "kiss" was a word without an assigned frequency, an unknown in her energy system. Luion understood in that instant the infinite gap between his human nature, which sought physical contact to say goodbye, and her nature of light, which only knew the fusion of essences.

Luion needed no words to explain it. In that state of illumination, he understood that a kiss is not defined by the intellect, but is delivered by the soul.

He approached Polaris Jazmín Azahar and joined his lips to that essence of neon and orange blossom. At the precise instant of contact, there was no brushing of skin, but a deflagration of absolute energy. The kiss was the final key: Luion's humanity and Polaris's ethereal light intertwined in a spiral of infinite vibration.

They fused.

They were no longer two beings, but a single pure frequency that ascended through the roof of the bunker, ignoring the concrete beams and the three computers that remained switched on. Like a sigh of white and green light, they rose toward the firmament, responding one last time to the call of that star that would not stop blinking.

They disappeared forever into the depths of the night, leaving behind the cinnamon Maserati, the laboratory, and the karmic faults of Earth. The garden recovered its silence, but the stars shone with a new intensity, as if the universe had just welcomed the Creator who, finally, had stopped dancing alone with the broom.

THE END.

                                                    Author: Jorge Ofitas. Europe. 2025. ®.