Ding ding ding! The dull sound of my alarm clock always gets me up on time. 4:00 am like usual. I quickly shoved on my black trench coat and some black shoes that had been polished till they hurt my eyes in the sun. I only had five minutes to eat and get ready, so I shoved my hair into a messy bun and ran downstairs. I took a quick glance at a photo of my family; it was the last color I’d see for the next seventeen and a half hours.

The dome that covered the city was pointing all of the kids towards the colorless, windowless office where we would work until 10:00 pm. As I was walking, I saw a few adults out in the field. They’re up early, I thought. They could get up at any time and do anything they wanted; the only work they had was school. I can’t wait till my ceremony, I thought to myself. The ceremony is the day when us adults finally get to be kids. We get to end work and have fun. It’s the graduation, the send off, or the marking of dependence. I stepped into the building, looking at the empty grey and black walls that seemed to be glaring down at me. Nothing in this place sparked inspiration for me. If only there was a way to make something with color that inspired me like pictures do, I thought. Ever since I was a baby, I always loved pictures and color, but it seemed like no one else in this whole city was fascinated by them. My office is on the 58th floor. It’s gray because if there was any color, they’d say it would distract us from our work. We’re not even allowed a colored photo of our family, and we all have noise-canceling foam in our cubicles so no one can talk to each other. 

The day felt long and boring; I had been working on banking and treasury. “I don’t want to do this,” I moaned. The only good part about this building is that no one could hear me even if I yelled. Finally, I packed up my papers and computer and left.

When I got home I was immediately comforted by the colors on the wall. I already knew I wanted to work with colors when I’m older, but today I felt like acting on it. I felt like I needed colors. I felt deprived. I sat there for a while thinking about what I could possibly do because I don’t have a camera. Even if I did find a way, the police might take me to the Darkroom for a week to focus on work and get the colors out of my head, or even not let me attend the ceremony. But for some weird reason I wasn’t scared of them, I wasn’t scared of not going to the ceremony. Then it finally hit me: I could make my own photos with the markers the adults get when they go to school. I could give it a shot, I thought. So I got to work. After an hour of tedious yet fun work, I finally finished. I had drawn a beach with crashing waves and a beautiful sunset and it looked real! I could almost feel the sun on my face and hear the waves crashing on the shore. I had had enough of the rules at the office so I decided to bring the markers and the art into my room and put it up. I couldn’t stand the dull colors and the one piece of art made it look so much nicer. 

After work which was a little better since I had some color and interest, I walked home with the markers and the art so no one would see them at the office and I went home, on the way there I was contemplating showing the art to my parents. The reason this decision is so hard for me is because it could affect my ceremony because I might be thought of as “not worthy” of being a kid.

When I got home I finally made up my mind. I was gonna show them because I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. I only cared about that one person that could build up their confidence to draw and be creative. I knocked on the salmon pink door of my mom’s room and when she opened the door, I showed it to her. She said she liked it so I told her that I wanted to post it onto the newstream and then she was hesitant; she asked me if I was sure. I knew I was. But I could still sense a little confusion, so I couldn’t tell if she actually approved of it, but I think she did. I headed to my room and slowly built up the courage to show art to all of the city by posting it on the newstream. 

When I finally clicked the send button, I knew it would change at least one person’s life. Make at least one person different and fight against the rigid and colorless rules. I didn’t care what happened to me; I only cared about what would happen to that one person or maybe even more.