A color is what makes an identity.
It is what allows a person to stand out, one of the most basic features that distinguishes one being from another.
There was once a place—a distant planet—that overflowed with color, bright and shimmering. Every citizen on that planet carried a different hue. No two were alike. Each color told a story, and together they painted a living, radiant world.
One day, the ruler of the planet gathered a group of citizens. He lined them up and transferred the same color onto all of them. He did this because the planet, he claimed, was running out of color. By reducing the number of colors in use, there would be more left for future generations.
The citizens agreed. For the sake of their descendants, they were willing to give up the colors they wore. And so, for the first time in history, a group of people alike in color emerged.
Decades later, another emergency arose—a true color crisis. Once again, the ruler selected an even larger group, gathered them together, and defined them by a single color, all in the name of preserving the future. Another color-alike group was born, and once again, the crisis seemed to pass.
Soon after, the government announced a new policy: anyone who appeared more colorful than the ruler would be punished. Fear spread quickly. No one wanted to become a target. Many citizens chose to abandon their original colors and replace them with duller, less brilliant ones. At first, it felt unnatural and painful, but over time they grew used to it, accepting their new, faded identities.
The planet was still colorful—but far less than before.
As time passed, a person arose who told others that their colors were flawed and imperfect, and that his color was superior. He urged them to change, to become like him. At first, he was mocked. People laughed at his claims, calling them nonsense. Yet a few, driven by curiosity, changed their colors to match his—and to their surprise, it truly seemed better, just as he had said.
Rumors spread. Doubt faded. One by one, others followed, some without even thinking, simply because they saw others do the same.
Eventually, only large groups of identical colors remained. They clashed, each claiming superiority. Wars broke out, and many colors were wiped away entirely. What had once been abundant became fragile, and then scarce.
Fear, anxiety, and uncertainty erased even more. Colors were abandoned, forgotten, or left unused. In their place, people turned to simpler shades: white, black, and grey. These colors differed little from one another. They were pale and empty, yet efficient—and above all, safe.
The planet lost its vibrant shine, replaced by a silent monochrome pattern.
Every citizen became the same. They spoke the same words, walked the same paths, and thought in the same way. When one said yes, all said yes. When one thought, all thought alike. No one dared to wear a different color. Anyone who tried was seen as an outsider, a weirdo, or dismissed as going through a rebellious phase. Society would not accept them; it feared that difference would disrupt the whole.
And so, in this simplicity, the planet found peace.
No disputes.
No disagreements.
No differences.
And no more identity.