The Language of Destruction
You see everything is white, and I mean everything. Our clothes, our hair, our skin, our houses and buildings, everything is white, even the flowers that grow for the common people. People who have enough money drive white cars; farmers have white animals and tractors. Our entire world is bleached of color. There are only a few things that have pigment: the pavement in the cities and the dirt in the fields, the cuffs on our sleeves, the grass and flowers in the capital's palace and, of course, my legendary hair. While everyone has white hair, mine is thickly streaked with blue, a failure in the eyes of science. That's what I am to them, a 1 in 100,000,000 chance - something improbable, something that should have never happened... a mutant... In this lifetime to stop is to die, and right now I can't afford that; I'm so close to my goal I have to keep pushing.