When the planets first accreted and spun into orbit, Plasma helped create a space-sea of electrified particles for them to float on. She did this by spending much of her time shooting about through the twisting halls of the Sun, her radiant train of electrons and ions following. After a trip of twenty thousand years (give or take a few thousand), these radiant particles of her train would reach the cooler sun-surface. Then they would slip minutely through Photos’ fences to enter the great space-sea. It would take only minutes for these rays to reach nearby planets.

For long Plasma was content to rush up and down the fiery winding hallways, making sure her particles got to the fences. But, later, when every turning became too familiar and the way to the fences got old, Plasma became discontented. Then the creativity went out of her work. Finally, Plasma was bored with the Sun.

I need a new situation. Something artistic and exciting, to match my zingy arresting temperament.

So she gathered up her dazzling train and shot up through hot gases to the light-fence. Having heard rumors of Plasma’s dissatisfaction, bright Photos and beautiful Chromos came out to meet her.

“Photos, Chromos … you’re just in time to bid me goodbye.”

“Plasma, no!” Chromos, keeper of the color fence, softly exclaimed. Her flame-shaped gradating colors intensified with distress. And Photos urged, “Let us talk it over,” wondering where in the Cosmos Plasma wanted to go.

“Talk schmalk. It’s my life, you know.” In her set face ran the buzzing shooting pulse of her nature.

Chromos’ glowing colors darkened slightly in perplexity. “But why, Plasma, dear?” she asked. “The Sun is source for all physical life in the solar system. We are so fortunate to share in his vast work.” Even Photos dimmed a touch and he stood in thought, wondering how to dissuade her.

But Plasma was impatient with them. “Photos, charge Umbra to open the gates. I want through your light-fence—now! “

But the man of light admonished her. “Electric one, we all have minds of our own, yet we are limited by the laws of the Cosmos. Remember this as you go.”

A bored expression in her eyes, Plasma looked up at the soaring brilliant light-fence. “Sermons, my friends, all sermons.”

So, failing to convince her, Photos went up through the fence in a tremendous cloud of calcium vapor. A moment later, black Umbra began opening the dark gates in the light-fence. So powerful was Plasma’s rapid exit that a violent storm soared upwards, sending her out on a radiant blast into the sun-system.

How mighty was Plasma! Her fast-moving electrons and slower ions came on behind, a vast cloud of poisonous gas.

Grieving Chromos sent her maidens, the Sun Prominences, flying like scarlet streamers, after Plasma. She hoped they might persuade her to come back. But Plasma was swift. The Prominences could not catch her, and so fell quickly back to the Sun.

Then, rushing through the sun-system, Plasma suddenly saw that she had no plan beyond escape. Looking this way and that, she sought a destination. Perhaps one of those young orbs—as she called the planets— perhaps one might accommodate her. She spied blue earth floating dead ahead in the black space-sea. Smiling she surged forward, drawing a deadly radiant train of electrons and ions behind her. She did not think of the damage that would be done by such an onslaught of her deadly radiation. Maybe she simply forgot about the delicate atmospheric fences surrounding earth.

Fortunately Magma, the keeper of earth’s inner, molten iron-oxide fence, had been on watch when dark spots appeared as Umbra opened the sun-gates. Magma saw Plasma shoot from the Sun. Thus he was ready when she came rushing toward earth. He spun out an invisible net, far larger than earth and specially magnetized. Unraveling from earth’s geomagnetic poles, it tumbled around and through atmospheric fences, surrounding the blue orb.

And, though strong, intelligent and creative. Plasma could not see what was invisible to her. She passed into his magnetic net along with all her electrons and ions. How she struggled and kicked, and pulled on Magma’s net! Fiercely she glowed—green, yellow, lavender, red. Plasma thrashed and thrashed in the buzzing net. Her glowing rays moving and changing shape.

Magma looked up at her display, delighted, and laughed. “Holy Cosmos! child, but you can dance!”

S.Dorman (pen name)