The lab smells suspiciously neutral. An odorless odor permeates the space. This total absence of scent is enough to make one's skin crawl.
(enchant: "A light blue", (text-colour: "#ADD8E6"))
Let it smell sterile, or rancid. Let it smell like anything at all.
(enchant: "A dark green", (text-colour: "#006400"))
Samuel stands hunched over the lab's long oak table. A stained labcoat is draped across his body like a toga. His sharp elbows are bent and supported by the table's Epoxy resin top.
(enchant: "A bright pink", (text-colour: "#ff69b4"))
Samuel's face hides behind slender fingers, wrapped across his eyes, the tips of which graze the outskirts of his receding hairline.
(enchant: "A sickly brown", (text-colour:"#8B4513"))
Halogen lighting stretches stiff across the lab's ceiling. These lights remain locked at a consistent intensity, and are never turned off.
Some graduate students enjoy what sounds like a (text-color:green)[holiday party] one floor below. Samuel turns a deaf ear to the distant sounds of merriment.
Samuel looks out from between his fingers at a small 250ml Pyrex beaker upon the table. He holds it up, carefully, allowing the overhead lighting to dance through the mixture and into his outstretched eyes.
Veins across Samuel's forehead bulge from within their skin-prison, as he struggles to categorize the liquid's colour.
It's a light shade of...ah wait...maybe it's...no, no, no, that's not right...
Shit. What colour was it again?
(link: "A light blue")[(set: $colour to "light blue")(go-to:"The Lab2")]
(link: "A dark green")[(set: $colour to "dark green")(go-to:"The Lab2")]
(link: "A bright pink")[(set: $colour to "bright pink")(go-to:"The Lab2")]
(link: "A sickly brown")[(set: $colour to "sickly brown")(go-to:"The Lab2")]
{
(set: $descriptions to (dm: "light blue", "Like the rising tides of failure", "dark green", "Like the trappings of vine-ridden forest", "bright pink", "Like a sunset upon one's livelihood", "sickly brown", "Like a mixed-together rainbow of failure"))
}A voice trapped within Samuel's head tells him that the liquid is a $colour. (print:$colour of $descriptions), he thinks.
Samuel knows that the voice knows no better than he. There is no way to know what colour this substance truly is.
To him, it is a horrible gray. Gray like his newfound incompetence. The ultimate in-between. The empty colour of purgatory.
//Samuel//:
"How tragic this scenario has become. I find myself stuck in the lab while others dance and feast just beyond my reach.
"And I accomplish nothing - I squint and I conject, but my vision has been damaged beyond repair. My attempts are vain, yet I toil away.
"How far I have fallen; deep into the ravine of expectation. I am no longer that glorious man. My reflection unrecognizable.
"Why was I granted such marvellous ability only to have it stripped away? What cruel creature decided to lift me up to such great heights only to cast me down? I have been undermined by my years of victories, felled by my own infallibility.
"I was the best, uncontested. Now my life is humiliation. I am unable to detect even the subtlest shift in hue. And I could never rely on others with their primitive vision. I cannot attach my name to an uncertain result, one that I have not truly seen myself.
"No, I will be heralded for my accomplishments, not for compromise or conjecture. I am cursed to create these blind mixtures as the sounds of festivities rage from below."
[[Several graduate students gather by the door->Chorus1]]
{
(enchant: "a light blue", (text-colour: "#ADD8E6"))
(enchant: "a dark green", (text-colour: "#006400"))
(enchant: "a bright pink", (text-colour: "#ff69b4"))
(enchant: "a sickly brown", (text-colour:"#8B4513"))
}//Students//:
"What a terrible sight: Samuel so reduced. His was the face of this University; a face now unrecognizable.
"He delivered lectures to capacity-filled halls. His papers were cited thousands upon thousands of times.
"He was the best at what he did, and he knew it. He was proud but never cocky.
"What a strange and horrible curse for one such as he – cerebral achromatopsia. He sees the world in grayscale, yet remembers well the concept of colour.
"He is disgusted by coloured foods, by flesh, all of it looks dead to him. He eats with his eyes closed.
"But there's more. The accident changed him. Look at his eyes, locked in place. He was always focused, but not like this. He seems prisoner in his own body. Relinquished, distant.
"Perhaps we should try to cheer him up. It's not healthy to be alone in the lab all day like he is. Tinkering, presumably, to no avail.
"No, we will leave him. There's nothing we can do to rouse him from this state. He must come to terms with his new plight. He'll find a way to overcome this hurdle, as he has so many others."
[[The students leave Samuel to his tinkering->Tinker1]]Samuel gathers materials from various shelves around the lab with slow and deliberates strokes. Beakers, powders, liquids. All colourless, all meaningless.
He surrounds himself with these materials, as though he has crafted a fort of random ingredients.
Samuel closes his eyes and allows his unconscious to guide his actions. He cannot trust himself to make these decisions anymore.
He finds a refreshing amount of freedom in being a puppet.
Samuel places the half-empty beaker of what the voice in his head has deemed to be $colour liquid in the middle of the table. The table is wide, and black like a ball and chain.
What should he do next, he wonders.
(link: "Add some powder")[(set: $choice to "powder")(set: $action1 to "add some powder to the mixture. Without looking, he grabs a pinch of a nearby powdered substance and sprinkles it into the beaker as though he were curing a steak. The powder dances down and the particles dissolve into the liquid, which darkens slightly, it seems. It's definitely no longer $colour - it must be more of a murky taupe")(go-to:"Tinker2")]
(link: "Mix in another liquid")[(set: $choice to "extra liquid")(set: $action1 to "mix in another liquid. He reaches for a second beaker of gray sludge and pours it unflinchingly into the first. The substances wrap between one another and soon settle into something new. Darker, it looks like. The liquid is definitely no longer $colour - it must be more of a murky taupe")(go-to:"Tinker2")]
(link: "Heat it up")[(set: $choice to "heat")(set: $action1 to "heat up the mixture. He grabs a bunsen burner and turns up the gas, then sets it aflame with the quick snap of a safety spark lighter. The mixture becomes a bit darker, it seems. It's definitely no longer $colour - it must be more of a murky taupe")(go-to:"Tinker2")]
{
(enchant: "light blue", (text-colour: "#ADD8E6"))
(enchant: "dark green", (text-colour: "#006400"))
(enchant: "bright pink", (text-colour: "#ff69b4"))
(enchant: "sickly brown", (text-colour:"#8B4513"))
}Samuel decides to $action1
How dreadful. Anything but taupe. Look what you've done.
Samuel is having second doubts about this whole being a puppet thing. He wonders if his subconscious has any more instructions for him regarding the preparation of this mixture.
Stir it a little bit(click: "Stir it a little bit")[]
Add some ice(click: "Add some ice")[]
Leave it alone(click: "Leave it alone")[]
[[Think about taupe some more]]
{
(enchant: "taupe", (text-colour: "#483C32"))
}
{
(enchant: "light blue", (text-colour: "#ADD8E6"))
(enchant: "dark green", (text-colour: "#006400"))
(enchant: "bright pink", (text-colour: "#ff69b4"))
(enchant: "sickly brown", (text-colour:"#8B4513"))
}Oh taupe, what an unpleasant shade. That vague brown that may as well be gray. Samuel can almost see it in his mind's eye. Focus crawls across his eyebrows as he attempts to tint the gray. All it takes is a bit of brown, but no. It's impossible. Everything he thinks is black or white or something in between, but no browns, no taupe.
How tragic to be longing for taupe - a shade Samuel has hated his entire life. But while he cannot imagine or see these colours, their concepts burn with intensity.
Taupe is more than a shade, just as colours are more than simple wavelengths. They are opinions, perspectives, memories. The idea of taupe is everything. His life has become taupe.
And taupe is abject unpleasantness, compromise incarnate. The unwanted but everlasting.
[[Please make it stop]]
[[More about taupe please]]
{
(enchant: "taupe", (text-colour: "#483C32"))
(enchant: "Taupe", (text-colour: "#483C32"))
}Samuel continues to think about taupe.
He remembers that the word "taupe" comes from the Latin "talpa", meaning "mole". The word was originally used to descibe the colour of moleskin. Yuck.
Samuel pulls out his phone and somehow ends up on colorpsychology.org, which offers the following claim:
"Taupe is considered to be timeless, neutral, practical, basic, authentic, organic, and modest. The versatility of this color is due to its timelessness — taupe is not a trendy color, so it will never go out of style."
[[That's quite enough about taupe ->Please make it stop]]
[[Even more about taupe, please, I'm a taupe fiend]]
{
(enchant: "taupe", (text-colour: "#483C32"))
(enchant: "Taupe", (text-colour: "#483C32"))
}Samuel manages to stop thinking about (text-colour: "#483C32")[taupe] for long enough to grab a cork from among the various materials on the table. He inserts it into the 250ml Pyrex beaker he's been working with, locking away the mixture for later. Samuel slides the secure beaker into a side pocket of his labcoat.
It's around this time that Samuel's father, Martin, arrives at the door. He delivers two strong knocks before entering.
Samuel, locked in thought, doesn't react to the sound of the door opening behind him.
//Martin//:
"How miserable you seem, my son. It's hard to believe that you are that same young man with endless accolades. It breaks my heart to see you like this.
"I had what any father would want. My son, a renowned chemist. His research and abilities would mould our world for generations to come.
"Now? I can't think of anyone who'd want to be in my position. To see one's pride and joy reduced to a husk of his former self. Imprisoned by his own accomplishments, and his inability to recreate them.
"I can't help but feel somewhat responsible. Is it my fault for wanting my son to be the greatest? Am I being punished for my pride? I swear I never forced you to study. Not beyond reason."
[[Samuel turns to face his father]]Samuel can't seem to stop thinking about taupe. He continues to read the colorpsychology.org entry:
"[P]eople who favor taupe are dependable, classic, and down to earth. These individuals tend to be very modest and avoid being the center of attention. Taupe–lovers fit in with just about anyone and their warmth makes others gravitate toward them."
Samuel is horrified by the term //taupe-lover//. He continues reading.
"While it is rarely a taupe–lover’s idea to try something adventurous, he or she is always willing to come along for the ride! On the other hand, people who love taupe can be perceived as dull, unexciting, cautious, and conservative."
[[There is nothing more to say about taupe->Please make it stop]]
{
(enchant: "taupe", (text-colour: "#483C32"))
(enchant: "Taupe", (text-colour: "#483C32"))
}//Samuel//:
"Don't blame yourself, father. This is my fault alone. I took risks, I strayed from mastery. Had I not indulged, had I taken fewer breaks...I may not have suffered this accident.
"And now I cannot leave this dreaded place. Apparently my name is worth more to them than my happiness.
"They plead with me to get back to work, but I've explained it to them countless times. I will never work again. I can never be what I was."
//Martin//:
"Perhaps I could speak with them for you, plead on your behalf. I may still have some influence around here. You could come back home. Anything to rouse you from this state."
//Samuel//:
"No, father, I deserve this. Would sitting around at home be any less torturous than wandering these University halls? I need not be freed. Let me suffer for my mistakes."
//Martin//:
"Come now, there's no sense in living out your life imprisoned here. You are your own jailer, and you alone have the key to your freedom. Don't listen to those pained thoughts. They will pass. I will do what I can to ensure your release, as any father would."
[[Martin exits the lab]]Samuel sighs as his father's footsteps fade away, mingling with the sounds of the ongoing party down below.
He supposes now is as good of a time as any, and produces the presumably taupe mixture from within the depths of his labcoat.
You helped me make this, he thinks to himself, as he uncorks the concoction.
Samuel places the substance back on the table, and wonders if he has the guts to go through with it.
[[Drink it]]
[[Don't drink it]]
{
(enchant: "taupe", (text-colour: "#483C32"))
}Samuel pensively raises the beaker to his lips, then chokes down the colourless (but presumably taupe) concoction.
It kicks in soon enough.
First come simple visual distortions; beakers stretch and wave, tabletops saunter.
Waves of liquid gray wash across reality.
Next is the dizziness. Samuel stumbles beyond the table, arms flailing for something to grab. He blames the $choice. That was definitely a bad decision. Why did he listen to that voice in his head? The original liquid probably wasn't even $colour.
He clutches blindly and grabs onto a chair at the far end of the lab, which he remembers was once a bright orange. As soon as the word //orange// crosses his mind, Samuel is thrust into a vortex of conceptual orangeness.
First he thinks of the fruit, and gags as he imagines stripping the dead gray flesh from one of those citrus globes only to reveal a sticky ashen core.
He struggles, as always, to //see// the colour. To imagine what it really looks like.
Samuel feels a pull in no particular direction, and allows his mind to [[become unchained]].
{
(enchant: "taupe", (text-colour: "#483C32"))
(enchant: "orange", (text-colour: "orange"))
(enchant: "light blue", (text-colour: "#ADD8E6"))
(enchant: "dark green", (text-colour: "#006400"))
(enchant: "bright pink", (text-colour: "#ff69b4"))
(enchant: "sickly brown", (text-colour:"#8B4513"))
}Samuel hesitates. He is scared. Scared of the unknown.
But now is a time for strength. He will overcome his fears, mask them, as he has so many times before.
If he doesn't act now, he will never be free.
[[Drink it]]
(link:"Don't drink it")[(set:$refusals to it +1)(go-to:"Don't drink it")]
(if: $refusals > 5)[(link:"Smash it")[(go-to:"Secret Ending")]]Samuel slides the beaker towards himself and off the table, allowing it to smash onto the ground at his feet.
Except he doesn't. That's not how this works. It doesn't matter how stubborn the voice in his head is. He will overcome it. Nice try though.
[[Drink it]]The lab is brighter than usual. The halogen lights on the ceiling swell, then burst from their constraints.
Samuel allows himself to be encompassed by the light. He smells orange. Real orange, not that gray fleshy physical horror. The concept of orange.
A much better concept than taupe.
Orange doesn't compromise. Orange takes what it wants, and knows what it needs. (if: (history:) contains "Don't drink it")[Orange would never hesitate to drink this liberating substance as he had.]
Orange is liberty born of betweenness. While reds and yellows deal in absolutes, orange understands sacrifice, and the need to concede.
Samuel's mind is aloft. He floats across a tranquil river of flame. Though it is still gray, it is the least offputting gray he's seen in a long time.
The door swings open in another world.
[[The graduate students return]]
{
(enchant: "orange",(text-colour: "orange"))
(enchant: "Orange" ,(text-colour: "orange"))
(enchant: "reds",(text-colour: "orange"))
(enchant: "yellows",(text-colour: "orange"))
(enchant: "taupe", (text-colour: "#483C32"))
}//Students//:
"Where has Samuel gone? It's been months since he's left his post so early in the evening. He's been known to fall asleep at the workstation, hunched over.
"Maybe he's given up, tired of tinkering, gone off home with his father.
"No, he's not allowed to leave remember? He's under contract, even if it means standing around all day blindly mixing chemicals.
"Here's Samuel's father Martin now, does he bring news?"
//Martin//:
"I've pleaded with the administration. I had to call in some favors, but they'll let him go! They'll dissolve his contract!"
//Students//:
"It seems he's already gone, we thought he might be with you. Perhaps he's ventured downstairs to join the party?"
//Martin//:
"That doesn't sound like Samuel. Come, let's search the lab. I doubt he'd have left."
They enter the laboratory.
Samuel lies prone just out of sight, an overturned orange chair at his side.
[[He is elsewhere]]
(enchant: "orange",(text-colour: "orange"))Samuel stands atop a submarine, skitting atop liquified light. He pilots the machine with expertise; weaving through waterfalls, braving rapids.
His footing is secure. He looks behind and notes a gathering of enraged stormclouds. He doesn't think much of it, and turns back around.
The idea of going home suddently doesn't seem so far fetched. The thought is almost comforting.
Samuel focuses on the horizon. It would be wrong to call it a shining light, as it's more of a tint. But it's undeniable. It's more than gray. There's something else in there, a subtle hue, and he can see it, undeniable.
A tiny glimmer of taupe.
[[End]]
{
(enchant: "taupe", (text-colour: "#483C32"))
}//References//:
This story was influenced by "Samson Agonistes" by Milton (1671), along with "The Case of the Colorblind Painter" by Oliver Sacks and Robert Wasserman (1987). There is also a brief excerpt on taupe from //colorpsychology.org//.
First posted May 2018
Latest edit Dec 2020
Written with Twine*A Glimmer of Taupe*
Michael Smilovitch
[[Start ->A Glimmer of Taupe]]