The Color Blue

“Here's a writing prompt: the color blue never existed before, until suddenly it did” – Morgan S.

 “Director, we are seeing an anomaly in the radiation pattern of the atmosphere from SkyEye.” Dami says. I look up from the table to watch him fidget. There is a smile creeping on his face as he shifts from side to side.

“You’re smiling,” I point out, standing, “so it must be a good thing.” Our new Sulfur and Carbon capture system must be working, and he wants to be the one to give me the good news. I wish I could be as excited as he is, but all of the incremental progress we’ve been making is just that: incremental.

“It might be.” He smiles wider “the team thought you should be the first to take a look, in case it’s what I think it is.” His green eyes shine with hope, and I shake my head as I pick up my things. Dami is a young scientist, so I can forgive him his hope. When I was his age, I dreamed of improving the system enough that a future outside the Sett was possible, but after 40 years, I’d be happy to just retire in peace. Dami practically bounds ahead with all of his newfound energy, but manages to reign it in as we make our way over to the elevator.

“Don’t tell me you think we’ve stabbed it.” I say as we wait. Any plan to return the planet to baseline always starts with an opening of the gray clouds in the sky. At that point, all the experts argue on how to best return to “normal”. I scoff. They talk of normal as if we haven’t been living this way for generations. My great grandparents could barely remember when the surface wasn’t hostile, let alone any of the experts debating paths forward. The elevators open, and I press on the button labeled ‘S’ for the surface level.

“We’re seeing a reduction in sulfuric acid and a reduction in temperature at the same point. It’s too high of a coincidence for me to think it’s anything else.”

“We’ve been talking about stabbing since I was your age, before that, even.” I say. I watch Dami’s smile fade before he clears his throat.

“Well, we’ll never stab it if we lose hope.” He replies, and I nod. Youthful ambition is preserving, and I’m glad I added him to the team. Before I can say anything else, the elevator darkens as we start to pass through the layers of rock. A temperature warning flashes on the panel, and I unzip my sweater. Dami takes his sweatshirt off and folds it over his arm. A few seconds later, the temperature shoots up and I sigh,

“It’s been 40 years, and I’m still not used to the shift.” I confess. Dami smiles at that and the elevator slows to a stop. A surface warning flashes on the panel, and I swipe it away so the doors will open. The black waves of the ocean crash against the glass dome in front of us, and I take a deep breath.

“My mom says that the ocean used to be blue.” Dami says. “She says the sky was too.”

Unbidden, a memory of my mother comes to mind.

“Make sure to wash your hands.” She said, as she held my tiny hands under a water spout. “and let’s sing a song so we know you’ve washed them long enough.” I started humming the song as I soaped up my hands. “As you should know, I dream of you” she sang, “when skies are clear, and seas are blue.”

My face scrunched up.

“What’s blue?” I asked. She paused.

“It’s an old color,” she finally says, “before we lived in this Sett, we used to live on the surface. The sky used to be blue, the ocean used to be blue, there were fruit and animals that were blue.” I laughed at her. Silly mother, the water was clear, the ocean was black, and the skies were red.

 “Not in many years.” I finally say. I glance over at the water collection and filtration system, and the water that loops through it gradually turns from black to gray to clear. Briefly, I entertain the thought of a stab, of breaking though the dense clouds in the sky. I could go down in history; I could help change the world. I could see a change in the sky in my lifetime. I can’t help a small smile. There is a white flash as lightning strikes one of the energy collectors and Dami flinches at the loud crack of thunder. “You’ll get used to that.” I say, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. “After a few years, nothing on the surface surprises you anymore.” I make my way to the heavy metal doors that separate this level from the SkyEye. I place my thumb and forefinger on the panel, and the door opens with a hiss of air. Dami rushes up the stairs and I follow at a slower pace. There are only so many more times I’ll be up here, and the thought slows my steps more than my age. He opens the door at the top of the steps, and I wave to the people sitting by the computers on the table.

“Director,” Mara starts, “We’re seeing amazing rates of intake from our newest rounds of collectors,”

“Show me,” I say, and she pulls another panel on screen. “They’re doing very well,” I realize. “Any mishaps?”

“None yet,” Mara says.

“Any anomalies in the atmosphere?” I ask, and everyone in the room shifts uncomfortably.

“No. We thought we saw something,” Jaylee says,

“But we couldn’t duplicate the readings,” Mara says, “and we don’t see anything different.” At that, I turn to the glass to look at the sky. It’s the same angry red as always, with blotches of orange and brief hints of yellow. Dami moves to the edge of the room and sighs.

“So no stab?”

“No. I’m sorry, Dami,” Mara says. I feel the urge to comfort him, but I am filled with disappointment as well. I knew that we certainly weren’t going to see a stab today, but the idea of it happening during my tenure was exciting. It won’t, I remind myself, it may not ever happen.

“I heard you are retiring,” Jaylee comments, and I let out a sigh as the three of them turn to me. So much for retiring in peace.

“I was hoping to retire quietly,” I say, “so only two people knew.”

“Everyone knows now.” Jaylee says, “So when are you done?”

“A few weeks,” I admit, “I was going to tell everyone next week.”

“So you’re not staying to see if this stabs?” Dami says. “You’re giving up?” I huff as I shift to face him,

“I’ve been here forty years, I’ve had more ideas fail than I can count, and I’m tired. It’s getting harder each day to justify these resources when they can go to other areas and I don’t want to be up here hoping for a stab for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t think it will stab,” Dami concludes.

“It’s statistically unlikely, even with these great results.” Jaylee says. “I can’t blame you for being done with your career. I actually wish to congratulate you.”

“Congratulations,” Mara says, but I can tell she’s still surprised.

“Come on,” Dami says, grabbing my hands, “We’re seeing good numbers, and you have a few weeks, let’s throw everything at this and get a stab.” I shake my head no. There is nothing I can think of that would make a stab possible.

But I think about it all day, and all night, and all week. I have dreams of the red sky twirling and being sucked from the sky, but I can’t imagine what would be left.

I call a few meetings, get called crazy, am hailed as a revolutionary, and then am given free reign. You have two weeks, they said, go crazy. So I did. I extended access to the surface level to any person who wanted it, and listened to everyone’s thoughts. We held nightly sessions to go over new strategies, and every waking moment I had was spent in SkyEye.

“Director, sorry to wake you,” One of the new recruits say, as he places a hand on my shoulder. I yawn as I sit up, nodding and glancing over to him. I can never remember his name, but his smile is friendly enough.

“Sorry about that,” I say, “I seem to be spending all of my time here lately.” He smiles.

“No problem, I know we are currently in a big final push.”

“Final?” I echo. Is no one replacing me? Are they letting the program retire with me? I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t tell me, but I thought they would have.

“We’ll, not officially, but you’re retiring, everyone’s pulling out all the stops before you do. My dad says it’s just a matter of time until they make this an energy depo to better track the lighting for power.”

“I hope not.” I say, “While we’ve been living in the Sett for a long time, it was only ever meant to be temporary.”

“Right, the whole open world and all that. I think that the people before us destroyed it for good.” He crosses his arms. “I don’t want to get my hopes up for it.”

“I do.” I admit. I’ve always had my hopes up for it. There was always this idea that the people who left the planet to ruin didn’t care and ignored the science, and that by caring enough, and using the science, we could bring it back.

“Anyway, I woke you up because the computer flashed some Nitrogen alarm.”

“What?” I say, standing and rushing over to look at the sensor’s diagnostic panel. I turn off the alarm and watch as the nitrogen levels begin to drop. “Can you send an alert to my team?”

“Something wrong?” He asks, already pulling up the notification system.

“Something right.” I say. “Something that can be exciting.”

A few minutes later, I manage to lock on a cloud that is thinner than its surrounding clouds. Thin enough that the sensor reads nitrogen levels. I feel my heart pound in my chest as I tell the sensor to lock on the cloud and move to the collector interface. There has to be a way to shift the direction so that we can target the weak spot. A minute after that, and I’m staring out the window as my team rushes up behind me.

“I’m not saying that we are going to stab,” I start with, not wanting to raise their hopes as high as mine are. I explain the situation, the thin cloud, the Nitrogen alarm, the repositioned collector.

“I’ve been discussing the intake rate with one of our energy technicians. He thinks that he can double our power supply so we can use them at full capacity.” Jaylee says, “if this is looking hopeful, this may be the time to call in the favor.”

“For how long?” I ask.

“8 hours maximum,” she says “all he wants is to be here for it, in case we do stab.”

“Do you think we will?” Dami asks, practically shaking with excitement.

“I think this is the closest we’ve ever been.” Even the new guy stares into the sky with hope. I turn too, and I feel Mara’s shaking hand on my arm.

“Do you really think so?”

“I do.” I say, hoping beyond hope for the first time in a long time. The team cheers, and before I can think about the potential drawbacks of opening up the surface level to anyone who asks for it, the surface level is brimming with people all hoping to see the stab. Every lightning strike is followed by some new person screaming at the sound of thunder, and a few teachers start giving impromptu history and science lessons. Dami starts organizing the people into sections and creates walkways for everyone to get around.

“Feels like history in the making.” Mara says, grinning. “Our sensors are showing slow but steady progress.”

“We should be able to see the increased efficiency and capacity coming through now. He said that most of the people are actually here on surface, so he was able to divert lighting energy as well, giving us a potential extra hour if everyone stays up here all day.” Jaylee comments.

“Thank you,” I say to my team. “Let’s make today one to remember.” I’ve had many days in my life, many years of standing in this very room looking to the sky for a stab, and yet none of them have felt this long. Perhaps it is the constant noise of the people below, or the way that the ocean seems less temperamental than usual. I think about retirement for a minute, and I can’t imagine wanting to leave now. I’m pacing with excess energy, smiling wide enough for my face to hurt, and looking to the sky like I’m a teen again. I look to the people camped out below and I grin. It’s amazing to finally have everyone excited about this work. I’m happy to share the moment with them, only, I know they don’t know just how amazing this is.

“I think I’m going to give a talk,” I tell my team, “nothing groundbreaking, just a bit of background to pass the time.”

“I’ll be sure to contact you if you are needed.” Jaylee says with a nod, and I make my way downstairs. As I make my way to the center of the room, I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. When was the last time all of humanity waited together like this for news? When was our last great accomplishment? I introduce myself with a smile, and ask if they would humor me for a few minutes.

There are many questions, many childhood rumors to be dispelled, and many misguided ideas to be corrected. My wrist buzzes twice with messages from Jaylee, each mentioning a thinner cloud base, which I tell the audience. I’m easily talking for an hour when a girl stands up from the crowd and screams. There are tears rolling down her face and she is pointing behind me into the sky.

I turn right away, looking for any abnormality in the sky. It takes a second, my eyes scanning the red and orange sky until finally there is a path of something. My hands cover my mouth as a sob escapes me.

Blue, I think. I know. Suddenly and with clarity. It had never existed before, not for me, and there it is. There are murmurs and cries as one by one we all find it. My team runs down to join me, and they are all screaming with joy. I can’t join them yet. I just stare at the tiniest patch of blue for as long as I can. Imagine the whole sky being this color. Imagine the ocean. I sob again, my whole body shaking.

“We’ve stabbed!” I hear Dami telling the crowd. “This is always seen as the first step to returning to the surface, and today we have done it.” There are cheers and claps. At one point, they all chant my name. The blue spot disappears behind red clouds, and the crowd murmurs again, but I told them it would be temporary; this time.

“Director, how would you describe what happened?” Dami asks, gently turning me to face the audience and I can barely see them through the tears on my face that won’t stop coming.

 “What we just saw today was hope.” I say, wiping my face, “Or as my mother would say, blue.”