The colours of the rainbow

The news was all over the place. It lasted two days, then it was gone. Nobody complained, no voice was raised. But there was one person, a tiny one on top of that, who could not stop thinking about the matter. Her short legs dandling several inches above the floor, Sadrea sat on the chair, typing furiously on her notebook, the table plastered with sheets of paper, where diagrams, circles, formulas reflected her troubled mind. The more she researched, the more proof she found that it was not that simple to achieve what the news said. If she had to be honest, she would say it was utterly impossible. She realized that she should not have been not surprised: weren´t “hollow” and “broken” the most apt attribute for the present powers that be? Having established this, the question which then caught Sadrea´s  was another. She started asking around a warm-up question, something she thought it would be easy to answer, before going deeper: “Do you really think it is possible to make the rainbow change its colour?”. But, maybe because she was so tiny, nobody paid attention to her, choosing instead of brushing her aside with a fleeting glance. Until one person finally answered. “If the rainbow wants to shine over this country, then it must take over the colours of our flag. No question about it.” Sadrea was about to ask how this should be done but the one person cut her words before she could finish. “Don´t bother me, don´t you see I am busy with my life?”.

She agreed that he looked very busy and she went on. She found a scientist, and he also answered her first question. He said he was certain that the rainbow could be forced to change its colour. It would take no time, provided somebody knowledgeable was in charge of the whole issue. Again, she was about to ask her second question, and again she was not given the chance, as the scientist left to call his friends to support his candidature as head of the Institute for Rainbow Compliance. She kept looking for another person to ask, surprised to hear the matter was already so advanced that a whole institute was to be established. She walked long roads, crossed bridges, climbed stairs, under heavy rain or scorching sun when one day she sat exhausted on a bench, in a shabby suburb of an ugly town. She took her notebook on her lap and a small knife. Then, slowly she placed the knife under a keycap and gently pried it up. A busty and shapely young lady approached and sat next to Sadrea. She looked at Sadrea, who was still busy removing the keycaps one by one, slowly but surely. The lady coughed, to get Sadrea’s attention and indicating her notebook with her chin asked: what’s the point?

Sadrea said, “exactly my question: what’s the point?”


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