On the morning of his eighteenth birthday, Edward stood in front of a mirror, mourning the colors he was about to lose. The blue blanket lay tangled at the foot of his bed. A yellow cereal box, half-eaten, leaned against a stack of comic books he'd never finished in his dresser. Green leaves pressed against his bedroom window like tiny hands trying to get inside. His mother's purple coffee mug sat on the nightstand, left there from the night before when she'd come to say goodnight and stayed too long, talking about things neither of them wanted to face.
And today, he would never see any of it the same way again. e the colors would disappear. They wouldn't. They would still be fully bright and everywhere. But those colors would belong to other people. Assigned, claimed, registered. Filed with the Spectrum authority in triplicate, complete with thumbprints and chip scans.
After today, only one color would belong to Edward.
He hadn't decided which one.
He sat on the edge of the bed, , pressing his palms against his knees, as he stared at his hands. Ordinary hands. Nothing remarkable about them. The kind that fumble, drop things, dropped things, or reach a moment too late. His mother called them his father's hands-- not a compliment, but Edward had long chosen to take it that way.
But he hadn't.
The city was already awake when Edward stepped outside, humming with color like a machine warming up. The air tasted faintly metallic — the way it always did near the scanners.
He watched the world the way he watched everything: from a slight distance, as though he were a tourist in his own life. A woman in green crossed the street, her coat, scarf, bag, and umbrella all shades of the same forest hue. Even her car, parked at the curb, gleamed hunter green.
She moved quickly, chin tucked, eyes down, a single-color life wrapped tight around her like a uniform.
A man in red emerged from a red apartment building, carrying red grocery bags. Red sneakers. Red watch. Red mailbox. He glanced at Edward once, then away, and Edward recognized the look — not shame, but resignation. A door closing softly.
Then the sidewalk shifted, A businessman in a charcoal suit turned the corner, and the air around him seemed to bend. His registered color was silver, but other hues glimmered at the edges: a burgundy tie, cobalt..cufflinks, a pale gold pocket square. He walked like someone accustomed to admiration, someone whose kindness had been tallied and rewarded until it became a kind of armor.
People looked at him the way people look at anything they want and resent wanting.
Edward watched until the man disappeared into the crowd.
He thought: One day, I want all my colors back
The Choosing Ceremony
The Grand Civic Auditorium loomed over the east side of the city like a monument built to make people feel small. Its doors were tall enough to swallow a person whole. Its walls were lined with scanners that hummed softly, as though whispering to one another.
It turned with the steady patience of something that had been turning for years and would continue long after they were gone.The ceremony began.
Names were called. One by one, teenagers walked to the front, stood before the scanning terminal and the broadcast camera, and spoke their chosen color into the microphone while reciting the oath. Their choice was recorded, registered, transmitted instantly to the Spectrum Authority database. By the time they returned to their seat, they were already someone else.
The oath echoed through the hall like a spell :I cast aside the multi-colored canvas that was my youth and bind my spirit to the color of my choice. Let this hue be my armor, my truth, and my transparent reflection of the person I am. I accept this as a permanent choice, altered only by the measure of my kindness. By the authority of the Spectrum Authority, I step forward to claim my shade. May this color mark my soul, and may I live to be a rainbow of deeds. I choose ———.“Blue,” said a girl with a steady voice. Applause.
“Yellow,” said a boy with tear-stained cheeks. Applause.
“Green.” “Orange.” “Purple.”
Applause, applause, applause — warm, polite, mechanical.
Then a girl with dark eyes and her shoulders pulled back stepped to the microphone, and the room changed.
“Black,” she said.
Silence fell like a dropped curtain. Heavy. Absolute. No one moved to lift it. Whispers rippled through the rows. The girl stood with her chin level, her hands at her sides, unafraid, unapologetic. She walked back to her seat with the quiet dignity of someone who had already decided that other people’s opinions were none of her business .Edward watched her sit.
He thought: I understand her.
It was the first clear thought he’d had all morning.
The Man in White
He noticed the man about forty minutes later, during a lull between names — the kind of pause that feels like the room is holding its breath.
The man stood near the back of the hall, half-shadowed by the last set of doors, in the posture of someone who wasn’t entirely sure he belonged. He looked around forty, though his face carried the kind of wear that made age difficult to measure.
He had no credits. No earned hues. No kindness recorded, no sacrifice verified, no service tallied. Just white — a blankness that had become a kind of exile.
People near him shifted away.
He was draped in only white.
He had no credits. No earned hues. No kindness recorded, no sacrifice verified, no service tallied. Just white — a blankness that had become his exile.
Single color. Forty years old.
Edward watched him, feeling something tighten in his chest — not pity, not fear, but recognition. The sense of seeing a future version of himself standing alone in a room full of people who believed they understood him. The wheel of colors turned above the stage, casting rotating bands of light across the auditorium — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, black — but none of them touched the man in white. The light slid off him, refusing to cling.
Edward thought: If I choose wrong, will I become someone the colors avoid?
The idea stayed with him long after the next name was called.
Terrifying
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