Spectrum

Origin

'Thousands of years ago, The Creator touched upon a scalding planet of fire, a place of death, and shadow. He created life, a delicate double helix evolving into something beautiful and deadly. He created us humans, and named our planet Earth. Hundreds of years passed and the humans lived in peace, seeing colour and beauty. Until one day.

Humans had always been a deceiving race, lying and manipulating to get what they want. But that's how the world had always worked. Until The Creator himself was reincarnated on Earth, and showed us what loss felt like. And what loneliness felt like. He stole away colour.

For many years, humanity stumbled in darkness, their very way of life snatched from their fingers, whisked away into the never ceasing twilight.

Soon, a phenomenon cropped up in what was once Rome. A boy and a girl, inseparable, saw colour. The world was in shock, reeling from the sudden realisation that all was not lost for humanity. The Creator had seen hope in them.

An ideology spread like wildfire. A religion. People praised The Creator and God. The Messiah. Books were written. Services held. And while this mass revolution was underway, more and more colour blossomed. A pair in Europe. A pair in Asia. It soon became clear to the population that it was all about soul, and partnership.

A new way of life was formed. You were born. The world was black and white. You met your soul mate, the person you had been born for. You see the true colours of the world. But, there was a darker side. It wasn't always that simple. If you didn't find your soul mate by fifty, everything faded to black. If your partner died, the world changes again. Not to black and white, but to a grey and lifeless existence. Depression ran rampant and insanity clawed at the minds of the untethered. That's what they were. Untethered. Untethered to this half-life, this half existence. Always looking, hoping, and searching for your other half, in a world where no one ever truly fits. Society was born.

As technology continued to grow, new ideas of the origin of our miserable lives were discovered. An abnormality in the prefrontal cortex. A mutation, passed down through generations. It explained all of it. Apart from one thing. Colour. Colour was ignored. It became null and void. A dead art. Life expectancy fell to fifty. You always died at fifty. Religion died. Colour was a myth. It was a dystopia, like something from a book. Repression was apparent everywhere. Millions died every year to supress this fictional idea, this horror of the imagination. Colour.

As technology advanced even further, the ancient and outdated ideas of colour vanished, and life went back to how it had always been. We all fell back into place. One after another. An army of mindless drones, always searching for the true vision of the world. Humanity. Controlled by our selfish need for companionship, enslaved by our own minds. We went back to our search for freedom. And one by one fell victims to time. Those who find their other halves are lucky. Those who don't are already dead.'

The bearded man bowed, as raucous applause echoed around the lecture hall. I stood to leave, the crowd hurrying away as to avoid the pouring rain threatening to start, overflowing from grey clouds. Or black clouds. They could even be the colour of blood. Called red. How was I supposed to know? The only idea of colour anyone had in our university was from our psychology professor. And how could he explain it? How could he explain colour to someone who has never in their life seen anything but the dull grey tones that plagued my existence. How?