DALTONISM

A man named Rudolf got up in bed at six in the morning and realized that everything was gray.

He rubbed his eyes several times, but his vision didn't improve. On the contrary, he saw the world through snow, like on a television screen. His eyes lost contrast, and the image began to blur.

He quickly got out of bed, ran to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. He saw nothing unusual in his eyes; they were slightly dark circles under them, tired from a sleepless night, and tearful.

"I have to go to the doctor," he thought, then started dressing, dialed his doctor's number, and quickly made an appointment. Before leaving, he peeked into his daughter Betha's room and went out to the garage, tripping over everything in his path because his vision was terribly distorted at times. He arrived

at Dr. Tomson's before eight, panicked, and rushed into his office and sat down in front of the man in the white coat.

"What's wrong, Rudi? Do you know what time it is? What's going on?

" "You have to help me, Tom." I woke up this morning and saw everything in shades of gray. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me.

The doctor rose from his chair and quickly walked toward the patient. Beads of sweat appeared on his face, his face flushed red. Rudolf could have sworn he saw a hint of panic. "

Wait a minute, I'll call someone. We need to examine this," Tomson said, and briefly left the office. He went into the next room, dialed a number, and asked with a slight nervousness,

"Is that you, Marphew? I have a serious case here. Please, you have to come quickly, the unit is breaking down."

Less than twenty minutes later, three men burst into the doctor's office, all dressed in black suits, carrying white suitcases. They looked at Tomson quizzically, and he pointed at the frightened Rudolf and said,

"This is Rudolf Marszecki, gentlemen, my patient from 18 Abvillon Street. He's complaining of vision problems. He sees in black and white.

One of the men approached Rudolf and asked in a pleasant voice,

"How long have you had this? Have you had similar problems before? What other symptoms do you have?"

Rudolf recounted everything in one breath, every now and then glancing suspiciously at the men's suitcases. The man named Marphew approached Rudolf and said,

"We need to sedate and anesthetize you now. It's for your safety, it won't hurt, it's just... hmm... your eyes were done in..., I mean, they're very tired, so we need to perform surgery... a minor one, of course."

"Surgery on my eyes? Never, gentlemen, what are you doing!" Rudolf shouted, but a slight twinge near the back of his neck sent him drifting off to sleep.

He woke up with a terrible headache in his own apartment, in his own bed, but he remembered everything perfectly, or at least he thought he did. His daughter, Bethy, was sitting by his side, watching him closely.

"Where have you been, Daddy?"

"Nowhere, my daughter, I was at the doctor's, I didn't feel well. Go to your room and play with your dolls, okay?

" Bethy politely went to the bedroom.

One thing was certain: he was already seeing everything in color. His vision was clear, and his eyes were rested. He checked his watch; it was eleven o'clock. He got out of bed, went to his library, and looked at the bookshelf. He

had never been interested in human anatomy, but his late wife had enjoyed biology, so after a moment he found what he was looking for. It was a hefty volume, "Human Anatomy," dusty and worn, but perfectly sufficient for Rudolf. He opened to the chapter on the human eye and began reading. He learned nothing special. Then he leafed through a book on eye diseases and felt a knot in his stomach.

It mentioned color blindness. Scientists wrote that it was a congenital and acquired disease, and that the likelihood of developing it was low. Rudolf threw the book on the floor and ran to the bathroom.

He looked in the mirror. His eyes were still blue. He grabbed a toothpick from the cabinet and gently pried open his eyelid.

And then he saw it, sending a shiver down his spine.

He saw small, silver gears working rhythmically, well hidden beneath his eyeball. His eyelid began to ache, so he lifted the other one, this time seeing tiny chips implanted in the skin high beneath the eyelid. He began to breathe deeply, his hands trembling with terror.

"I'm a robot, damn it, I'm... a robot, what am I going to do now?"

He closed the cabinet, left the bathroom, and went to his room. He locked the door, stripped naked, and began examining his body. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, but a terrible thought flashed through his mind.

"Humanity must be being lied to. God, billions of beings are walking robots, but how is that possible?" No... that's impossible. There are autopsies, car accidents, witnesses looking at dead, dismembered bodies, children torn apart by landmines... a global conspiracy? A collusion of doctors? I have to explain this, the world needs to know... Or maybe I'm the only one who's different?

He tried to get dressed and leave the room, but at that very moment, some integrated circuit responsible for memory, as if on command, burned out, and the machine stopped. Rudolf fell to the floor, screamed in pain, and slowly began to stagger into the abyss. The memory was being reformatted. The last image he saw was his daughter running into the room, but it was too late for him to recognize her.

Too late, even for a robot.