Kiko followed the owl through the city.
For the first time, he did not walk along the edge.
But right through the center.
Animals stood everywhere.
All gray.
All uncertain.
And all stared at him.
“That’s him,” someone whispered.
“The one without color loss.”
Kiko suddenly felt very small.
“I’m really nothing special,” he murmured.
The owl stopped.
“Maybe that’s been the problem so far.”
They continued walking.
Until they stood in front of a huge building.
It was round.
And it must have been incredibly colorful before.
Now it was gray.
“That is the color center,” the owl explained.
“Here the energy is generated that makes all the colors in the city possible.”
Kiko frowned.
“Colors need energy?”
“In Coloropolis, yes,” said the owl.
The doors opened automatically.
Inside it was quiet.
Too quiet.
Large machines stood in the room.
With cables. With lights. With displays.
But everything was off.
“System completely shut down,” beeped the robot penguin that had followed them.
“No more color waves.”
Kiko walked slowly through the room.
His eyes grew bigger.
“That looks sad,” he said.
The owl nodded.
“Something is missing.”
“What?” asked Kiko.
The owl looked at him.
“We’re trying to find out.”
Kiko walked on.
Until he stopped in front of a large, round machine.
In the middle was an empty space.
Like a hole.
“Something belongs there,” he said.
The robot penguin beeped.
“Correct.”
“That is the color core.”
“It supplies the whole city.”
Kiko leaned closer.
“And where is it?”
Silence.
The owl answered slowly:
“Gone.”
Kiko swallowed.
“So… did someone steal the colors?”
The robot penguin beeped nervously.
“Or shut it down.”
Suddenly a screen flickered on.
Very briefly.
Then again.
And then a sentence appeared:
TOO MANY THE SAME.
Kiko blinked.
“What does that mean?”
No one answered immediately.
The owl slowly looked around the room.
Then she said quietly:
“I’m afraid… the city has a problem bigger than technology.”
Kiko looked at his spots.
For the first time…
…they didn’t feel wrong.