The idea sprang from nothing, naked and half-developed, a spark of invention coursing through the man’s synapses at the speed of light.

Every neuron it touched ignited those around it as the idea swept through. In a fraction of a moment every corner of his brain had been washed in the cascade. The man’s eyes widened.

“I’ve got it,” he said.

“Don’t lose it,” I said. “Hold onto the picture in your mind.”

But already the spark was fading. Little gleams of light escaped from his dendrites, a few at first, and then many, like a field of dandelion spores carried away by the east wind. Each tiny beacon winked away into the darkness above the man’s brain and disappeared forever.

As the last speck vanished into the night, we sighed together and listened to the grasshoppers for a while. The air was cool in the forest. The eyes of an owl flashed golden like the moon, the branch on which the wise bird perched swaying as the breeze veered suddenly southward.

On the horizon came a new spark… this time it was mine.