Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 125, No. 3 & 4. Whole No. 763 & 764, March/April 2005

The ground around me looked as usual — black asphalt with the dirty remains of last week’s snowstorm. But across the street the normally yellow McDonald’s arches and the American flag hanging outside the post office had both been drained of their colors — replaced by black, white, and varying shades of gray.

The drive home was especially nerve-racking. The traffic lights were hard to read. The red light was black and the yellow and green were different shades of gray. I thought it would be reassuring to get home among familiar things. But it was just the opposite, because familiar things were no longer familiar. I forgot about General Hospital and wandered from room to room checking out the colors (or lack of them). My living-room rug, once a lovely pastel pink, was now a sickly gray. My favorite watercolor over the dining-room table was black and white. The only thing that was unchanged was the photograph of my parents on the piano. And it had always been black and white and gray. I stared at it for a full minute, seeking comfort from those dear faces. But they were gone now. They couldn’t help me. I turned away and picked up Sophie, my cat. She was also unchanged. Black, with one white paw, she looked the same as always. I settled into my favorite — once rose, now gray — wing chair, with Sophie on my lap, and stroked her. She purred loudly. Maybe I was just tired. I had been up late the night before watching the old-movie channel — an addiction of mine. There had been a double bilclass="underline" The Lady Vanishes and The 39 Steps, two of my favorites. I closed my eyes.

I must have dozed off, because when I opened my eyes, the room had darkened and Sophie had vanished. I heard her mewing in the kitchen. I picked up my grocery bag, hoping the fish hadn’t spoiled, and made my way to the back of the house — flicking on every lamp and light switch within my reach as I passed. But the illumination was disappointing. Dimmer than usual, as if someone had replaced all the 60-watt bulbs with 25-watt bulbs.

My kitchen, a cheery yellow when I’d left this afternoon, was the color of dirty cement. I poured some cat nibbles into Sophie’s formerly blue, now gray, bowl. Undeterred by their new pallor, she gobbled the nibbles down with her usual gusto. Had I read that animals are color-blind?

The telephone on the counter rang. I answered it. A telemarketer. It was getting to be that time of day. Dinnertime. As I hung up, I wondered at my stupidity. Why don’t you call a friend? Ask them what’s happened? Before I did that, I turned on the little TV I kept in the kitchen to see if the five o’clock news had anything about this disaster. The anchor was reporting as usual about Iraq and the White House, a recent earthquake in the Far East, and a new snowstorm from the northwest. Nothing about a gray-out in Philadelphia. The only new thing about the news was that it wasn’t in Technicolor. It reminded me of when I was a child and all TV was black-and-white. In fact, this whole experience made me feel as if I was inside one of those old black-and-white noir movies that I used to love. Notorious, The Maltese Falcon, Rebecca. I doubted if I would ever watch one again. A musical comedy, in vivid Technicolor — that was what I craved! Now I knew how Dorothy must have felt in The Wizard of Oz when she returned to Kansas after her visit to the Emerald City. Only she, unlike me, had been happy to leave the colorful world behind.

I reached for the phone again and dialed Emily. She was my oldest and dearest friend. We had met in kindergarten. She was the only one I could ask about this weird situation who wouldn’t think I was crazy. The phone rang half a dozen times before Emily’s perky voice said, “Hello, everyone! I’ve taken off for the Bahamas for a few days. Leave your name and number and I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”

“Shoot.” I’d forgotten she’d left yesterday for her annual winter trip to the islands. As I replaced the receiver, I shivered. The thought of Emily sitting on a beach lined with colorful umbrellas, soaking up the sun, made me feel cold — and depressed. I could call someone else, but... This was ridiculous. It had to be my eyes. Otherwise everyone would be in a panic. Reporters would be screaming that the world had gone gray. Some would be blaming the terrorists — others would be blaming the President. But it was too late to see an eye doctor tonight. It took weeks to get an appointment, unless it was an emergency. I could call Angie, my neighbor. But she was such a busybody. As soon as I hung up she’d be calling everyone in the neighborhood, spreading the word that I was going blind — or getting senile.

I tried to read. At least the newspaper looked the same. Black type on white paper. But there wasn’t a thing in it about the incredible catastrophe. Of course this issue had come out this morning.

I paced the living-room floor. Sophie watched me disapprovingly from the sofa. I was usually a calm person. I should really eat something. But I had no appetite. And that stuff I’d bought at the supermarket had no appeal for me. Maybe I should go to bed. The sooner I fell asleep, the sooner it would be morning and I could call the doctor and describe my symptoms. Maybe if I really laid it on, he would even see me. Resigned that I could do nothing about my situation that night, I trudged upstairs. The bathroom was reassuring, at least. I lived in an old house and the bathroom was all white — white tile, white porcelain, and white plaster. The toothpaste and soap were white, too. All completely normal. The only off note was my toothbrush. Usually lavender, it was now — surprise, surprise — a dull gray.