Mary’s World

My first memory was of visiting hours and feeling love for my family. I can only remember
seeing a white light. It was not harsh, but bright. All other memories remain elusive however they are
likely monotonous like all the others.

I was a dull child. I lacked any understanding of colour. My world was simply black and white
and grey. No child should live through such an endless, monotone eternity, ‘a day’, which is
foredoomed to repeat itself. Again, and again. I found happiness in the solitude of studying this one
thing that I could not experience, could not see. Its mysteries were described in such a sophisticated
manner that it appeared hopeless for me, a child, to attempt to perceive the work of the greatest living
minds. Notwithstanding the staggering complexity of the research papers I was studying, I became
consumed by my desire to comprehend what I could not see. The unquenchable thirst for knowledge
that would eternally remain thwarted by fate.

During adolescence, I remained focused. I favoured my tireless study of chromatics over

riotous parties and friends and happiness and life. Now I view it as an unworthy exchange, but at the
time I did not consider their true value. Whilst the other students were staring grey faced and with dull
eyes at the white walls and blackboards, my mind remained persistently diligent, directing its efforts
towards the foremost issue to me. My research bolstered my attempts to distract myself from my
wearisome world of black and white and grey.

Later, my university building proudly towered above us all. A crest was carved extravagantly
into the flawless stone that surrounded its entrance. It depicted a shield with four majestic lions
encircling a closed book covered with unsurpassable decorationsi. Here, in this entrance, I first felt the
thrill of sight: the boundless walls, majestic structure and immense stained-glass windows. For me
nevertheless, it remained persistently black and white and grey. As the months passed, the
intellectual challenges rose and the number of my classmates dwindled. I soldiered through. Only a
handful successfully completed the course. Whilst the other students left, got jobs, had families, I
stayed and continued my education.

Many years passed. I earned my Doctorate in Physics. I became a Professor and taught at
the University. I saw many people as eager as myself to learn, come and go. Few of them continued
with their journey to pursue knowledge and fewer still achieved all that they had desired. I used the
most modern technologies to explore the secrets the Universe held, to unravel its mysteries, to satisfy
my obsession, to win the fight with nature in a professedly futile endeavour for all chromatic
knowledge to be acquired. For decades I investigated, expressed complex findings as simply as
possible, barely considering that I had matured into the type of person that I had idolised in my
childhood. I simply did not believe that I was worthy of such a comparison. I wrote my own papers,
and disproved others. Progress was made. Knowledge was gathered.

At the height of my career, I won multiple awards for my research, ranging from the Nobel
prize for physics for proving that the velocity of a photon can vary depending on the number of
interactions that occur with virtual leptons (excluding Neutrinos) per unit of time ii, to a Royal Society
 Mary’s World
Prize for my award winning non-fiction book, ‘The Blindness of Colour’, where I summarized key
aspects of my work. Progress appeared exponential, however I refused the truth, my already flawed
vision being further clouded by success. I refused to accept that my yearning for knowledge would
lead to a hellish place, that grew ever closer with every breakthrough and each tick of the clock, until it
was too late. I viewed my compulsion to advance human understanding of colour as irrepressible as
Time itself.

Progress however, much to my surprise, slowed. Funding was cut. I, along with all other
photo-researchers across the country, many of whom I had worked alongside were made redundant
at their respective Universities and research facilities. Our prayers had been answered, but with
unforeseen consequences. All knowledge in our field had been acquired. The impossible had been
done and we all, now, had nothing to do. Some people joined the engineering teams who attempted
to develop practical uses for our discoveries, whilst others, like myself were too old to change fields. I
stayed in my small house doing little. I would read, and learn, not for fun but just to pass the time. I
often looked back on my life, reliving its events. I would sometimes look at the progress of the
numerous photo-engineering teams. That is how, only three years ago, I had first heard the news.
One of the groups believed that they had found a method to restore colour sight in humans by
promoting the growth of cone cells using proteins. I swiftly applied to join the test cohort. If their
research was promising, it held the potential to ensure that no person would be forced to experience
the world only through black and white and grey.

The hospital was white - not a pure white. It felt artificial. The dehumanising nature of the healthcare
system treated each patient as a unit that was required to be cured with utmost efficiency so that the
next arrivals could be treated. In the Doctor’s room, I was asked to sit, given an injection, had
bandages placed over my eyes. Expectantly, I awaited the treatment to begin. Instead I was
transferred to a wheelchair and given a simple instruction: “Don’t remove the bandages for the next
12 hours to allow your retina to recover.” Could a lifetime of expectation be fulfilled in such a brief
space of time?

I sat on my bed - waiting. My clock ticked and tocked and repeated itself. Waiting felt like an eternity.
Whilst drumming my fingers on the bed, I waited. I wondered what seeing colour would be like, and I
waited. The clock ticked and tocked, and I waited. I wondered whether I would have a favourite colour
as I waited. Surely it wouldn’t hurt if I look now, I thought as I waited. My fingers beat to the time of the
clock as I waited. The Doctor said I should wait, I thought as I waited. My foot tapped and my fingers
rhythmically thumped against my mattress in time with the clock that ticked and tocked as I waited. I
waited and waited and could wait no more. I stood and with an assertive, near instinctive motion
which I had never before expressed, I tore the bandages from my eyes.

I saw a blinding light as my eyes looked first through the window. I instinctively knew that I would
relive this first vision a thousand times. I saw a garden. The brown earth beneath bringing life to the
green plants which swayed gently in the wind that strived to grow higher, further into the deep blue
sky above. To grow past the plain clouds and reach the magnificent Sun, that brings life to the world. I
 Mary’s World
looked for the first time unto the garden with comprehending eyes and it hurt. A pain grew deep in my
skull and the colour quickly faded. Soon, I could see no plants or sky or earth. I could see nothing.

Shortly after, I became sick and weak. Now, I must stay here, in hospital. With no-one by my
side, I have looked back, for the final time. I am frail and old and weak. I cannot eat or drink or learn
or see. The single question which I have never attempted to answer is whether I have learnt anything
from my single encounter with the beauty of colour. The answer is: Yes. What I learnt is that wisdom
does not come with age. Obsession materialises from deep knowledge and inevitable misery is at the
end of a life of isolation. Dwelling in the past is purposeless and looking only to the future prevents
living at all. And, with that, as my final thought, I shall rest. All thoughts stopped. The reverberation of
the electrocardiogram machine sounds a final monotonous tone that echoes in the empty room. It
gradually fades away, and I feel, finally, at peace.

I find myself, standing, fragile and frail, in nothingness. “Where am I?”, I cry into the abyss. My own
echo is the only welcome I hear. Questions fly through my mind in a chaotic manner. From the
darkness that surrounds me, a colour begins to form and grow larger and brighter.

I can see it! It is beautiful.

Dancing like a flame in a mesmerising manner, the colour fragments into a myriad of vibrant colours I
can’t name. They undulate closer, encircle and consume me.

Notes
 The idea for this essay came from the Knowledge Argument, also known as “Mary’s room” thought
experiment, proposed by Frank Jackson and is referenced in the title.
 The passage of time in Mary’s World is meant to mirror that of Shakespeare's ‘Seven Stages of Man’.

i
The description of this crest is similar to the crest of Cambridge University.
ii
The idea of the velocity of light varying depending on the number of virtual leptons (not Neutrinos) that they
interact with per unit of time is ridiculous and untrue as the virtual particles do not exist for long enough periods of
time to interact with anything other than their antimatter opposites or any other antimatter that may be closer - I
think (Please correct me if I am incorrect in my efforts to disprove my silly theory as I do not know that much on
this subject). It was simply an example of a theory that, if proven correct, would be incredibly interesting. I would
like to note, however that this idea was my own and was not taken from any real research or existing theories to
my knowledge.