Greyscale

A Typing Panda

Presents:

Greyscale 

The unending rain continued on the planet: Greyscale, the humans' mission to find the planets inhabitants still in vain. They looked in every nook and cranny, until the searcher's enthusiasm, once bubbling, now simmered down. The only hope they had left, was the singular cave present on their radar.

Mark was the only one who was daring, and willing enough to venture into the deep and terrifying depths of the grey cave. He set forth at sunrise on Greyscale, and walked miles upon miles until he reached the cave. The LEDs on his Geo-Analyzer flickered, indicating that the cave was vast, implying that his exploration would be futile. Unhindered, Mark went on. The cave seemed ophidian at first, owing to its interdigitate turns and tunnels. Advancing into the caves made the path convoluted, but Mark trusted his Geo-Analyzer and headed towards the big open clearing that showed up on it.

An hour later, as Mark tread along the variegated routes, he heard a sound that can only be described as the epitome of prelapsarian joy. Peeking around a corner revealed to him a wee little baby, surprisingly human, but like everything else, grey. The baby stared at Mark with its pale eyes, and a peek at his rosy complexion was enough to make the infant cry. It wailed and wailed, throwing its toys all around it, until an arm scooped it up, and calmed it down. The alien lady, again, surprisingly human, nearly dropped her child when she saw Mark. After a moment of shocked silence, she screamed and rushing came several others, and took Mark away.

His eyes opened at the pedicured feet of royalty, and glancing up showing him a crown like no other, sitting smugly on the pale hair of who seemed to be their king. Mark had a surprisingly calm disposition, after all, he had discovered several alien species, but his astonishment was unmasked, as he had never seen a sentient species that was so... Human. He tried speaking, but his larynx felt unresponsive, but, a few seconds later, a collar strapped to his neck spoke in an incomprehensible language. He communicated to the king of this exurb, and learned that the people were called Huemans, and had never seen a color like those present on his gear and uniform. He informed them that he comes in peace from the planet Earth, but they were interested in nothing but the colors present on him. The King requested Mark to teach them the secret behind colors, and Mark decided to bestow the knowledge of colors upon the Huemans.

He brought several items from base camp, including some companions to help him teach the tiny kingdom colors. The following month consisted of eight-hour classes, everyday, to teach the hues, shades, and types of colors. Happy with his progress, Mark bid goodbye to the loving people of the kingdom, and returned to Earth, promising to come back one day.

A year later, Mark visited Greyscale again, and was confusticated by the scene in front of him. The Huemans' society had descended into chaos. The adults, who once lived harmoniously together, now fought and bickered amongst themselves about what color would look good where, and how they would color something.

The children that once ran around the streets, carefree and gleeful, now quarreled about their favorite colors and how their favorite color was better. Mark could not comprehend what had happened, and as he walked past familiar building to the castle, he greeted his former students, but no one heeded him. In the castle, now decorated beautifully with colors golden and silver, the once cheerful and informal King was annoyed at Mark's presence in the castle. The people were unhappy, the king was tired, and Mark was speechless. What had once been a cheerful and utopian society had been spoiled due to something as pleasant as colors. The King jailed Mark, and sentenced him to execution, because he came to the castle without any form of legal agreement.

As he sat in his cell, Mark realized that all that had happened was his fault. He had revealed colors to this happily oblivious society and disrupted the harmony of it. 

His head on a guillotine, he prayed for the prosperity of the land he had tainted, and staring around at the faces of the people watching him, he recognized a pair of eyes. They were the pale eyes of the baby he had first seen. Now a little girl, hoisted on her indifferent father's shoulders. The last thing he saw, was those eyes close, and the last thing he heard was the sound of a razor sharp blade cutting through the air with a frightening velocity.

Fin