ORACLE - PART 4

Like Charles Foster Kane hidden away in Xanadu, as long as Oracle remained in his secure fortress in Big Sky Montana his legend would grow exponentially to rival that of only Stanley Kubrick’s infamous level of unintended myth making.

Having not released any music since “Precipice”, his requiem in album form for his beloved Ghost Girl, there was no hope amongst critics and fans of the artist for any new developments in this regard.

So what was his purpose if not to serve the Gods of music?

The answer would appear but not in a way that was easily apparent to those asking the burning question about his future.

Often, late at night, through one of his secret underground tunnels beneath his house, Oracle would leave the grounds of his estate and head off stealthily into the dark night.

On the odd occasion a stalking reporter or fan would follow him, he managed to shake them off, cutting through various alternate off-road routes to his mysterious destination.

One night, he’d almost killed a young man who had tailed him on his bike who failied to see his brake lights when he slammed them on.

The demonic nature of obsession was something he could relate to but knew he had to avoid at all costs. He'd read about the Salinger inspired assassin Mark Chapman, a cautionary tale for all celebrities since the death of John Lennon.

Sometimes when embarking on one of his noctunal escapes Oracle would sometimes swap his Lamborghini Urus for one of his private planes.

Having studied Howard Hughes avidly since he was a teenager and finding numerous and obvious parallels between the famous inventor and himself, Oracle had made it his mission to become a fully trained aviator in tribute to his hero.

Flying at night was something that focused Oracle's mind away from the unbearable sadness of loss he had been consumed with on the ground.

As to the mystery of his nocturnal destinations, they were known to only a few, well trusted members of his creative team.

The first of the monuments to appear was in the North Arizona desert where construction had been kept secret from the outside world as much as possible.

‘The Crater Of Light’ was a hybrid celestial observatory cum land art temple and offered an authentic experience/celebration of natural light far away from the obtrusive light of the modern world.

With specially engineered sections where geologic and celestial cycles could be directly experienced, this non-evasive structure was as harmonious to the landscape as any that had ever been designed.

For Oracle it was a place where he could become part of something bigger than himself. His soul had been cloaked in darkness for the past five years and his heart frozen in time. Now, with the help of his friend and iconic Italian Architect/Designer Soleri, he had finally found something to distract him from his heartbreak and mourning.

After the first Crater Of Light had been built, there was a noticeable absence of publicity which was exactly what Soleri and Oracle had intended. Their idea was for their monuments to remain as secret as possible, especially in an age where nearly every inch of the globe was under surveillance from big tech and satellites.

In its semi-camouflaged form, this crater temple would become something a hiker or expedition team might stumble upon their journeys through the desert and wonder at as if landed and placed randomly by some extra terrestrial or Mayan phenomena.

For the first few weeks after its completion, Oracle camped out in the desert with Soleri as they made plans for similar future projects.

The key themes they keenly explored were that of mystery, solitude and meaning. In a world where everyone was over saturated with information, both men felt it was important to remind people of the deeper truths of existence that existed away from the conventional and assumed channels of establishment approved learning and logic.

Leaving Oracle to enjoy their creation, Soleri returned to Italy where he would begin work on the next stage of their unusual project.

“Make sure you come back. I don’t want you turning to stone out here.”

Oracle smiled with his familiar, gold encrusted teeth.

“I have a reason to live again now. Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to us.”

The two men embraced like brothers before Soleri took off in his jeep back to civilisation.

Little did they both realise it would be the last time they would see each other.

Resting beneath the stars in Soleri’s sublime space, Oracle was finally able to sleep peacefully for the first time since before the disappearance of Ghost Girl in the infamous drowning incident out at sea.

Not even his typically troubled dreams could threaten the calmness he felt right now in his body and mind.

It was this peace that kept him at the sacred location which he and Soleri had chosen so specifically back when they first began this unique venture of theirs.

A few days later, Oracle finally planned his return home to Big Sky.

Prior to enjoying his last evening alone, he had walked most of the day across the vast rocky terrain enjoying the wide variety of colours the painted desert provided, from deep lavender to rich greys, orange and pinks.

Memories of Rothko were unavoidable to his mind.

Having trekked for a good amount of the day, he finally returned to the crater to rest.

He fell asleep with images of Ghost Girl flashing before him. Somehow, he felt more connected to her memory out here than anywhere else.

Out in the lonely desert there were many strange sounds to be heard at night, from mule deers to ringtails.

But this eerily still night, Oracle’s slumber was broken by the sound of a human whistling

He recognised the infectious motif from his most haunting track, “Deep Water”.

Stepping out from the disc shaped monument structure, Oracle surveyed the landscape to see which direction the sound was coming from.

“Hello?!”

It was the flash of gold that struck him first, his smile reflected back at him in the guise of a stranger he’d never seen before.

“Hey.”

The stranger replied nervously.

“It’s you.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I came to find you.”

Oracle look concerned.

“How did you find me?”

“I followed the trail your friend left me with the tyres of his fancy jeep.”

Unsettled by the stranger’s impersonation of him and his wardrobe, Oracle thought of how he might defend himself, but the truth was he had nothing to hand.

“It’s a long way to come to find me.”

“I wanted to meet you for years.”

The stranger stroked the side of his mouth, momentarily deep in thought.

“I felt connected to your pain when you lost her. “

At which point, Oracle felt increasingly fearful of this unusual character.

“You want something to drink?”

“I’m good homie. Maybe later.”

“So what exactly do you want?”

The stranger stepped closer toward Oracle.

“I want to save you.”

“I don’t need to be saved, man.”

The young man laughed at Oracle, clearly unaffected by his celebrity status.

He tried another tact with the sinister figure.

“How about we chill for a bit and talk. I plan on heading back home shortly. I was just getting some rest before the drive.

“You won’t be driving back,” the stranger said with calm assurity.

“Oh no?”

“I didn’t want you to get away so soon after I found you so I slashed your tyres on your plane.”

Oracle could feel fierce anger rising up inside of him but tried tor retain the impression he was calm so as not to incite the stranger who he intuitively sensed had violence in him.

“Listen man, I’m not into bad vibes but you can’t go round slashing tyres like this and expect to earn my respect. You’re just going to make me pissed.”

“I don’t care how you feel, just so long as you feel. I’m just happy we’re out here all alone. Together.”

The moon flooded the landscape with its brilliant light as the two men stood like statues facing each other.

Hours later, Oracle would remain as still as a rock.

The second mystery of Oracle’s disappearance in the desert following so soon after Ghost Girl’s drowning incident at sea was a coincidence too many, even for the crack pot conspiracy theorists on the internet.

But with no evidence for the authorities to build a case on, his death was consigned to the other mysteries of the modern age.

In a grimly ironic way, the uncertainty of his death fulfilled the same criteria that he and Soleri had discussed as part of their creative manifesto.

Their monument would now become a deathly tourist attraction and shrine to the spirit of a great artist.