A shrill sound caught my attention, prompting me to find its source. Plywood dust from abandoned woodwork was illuminated by high power work beams, as I made my way to the only door in the room. White light escaped from the door at random intervals, occasionally in sync with the sound. A small push was all that was necessary to open the door, but I was greeted by another blast of dust. My eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly enough to notice the flashing lights. It was coming from a cracked television, resting in a corner. Decaying cathode ray tubes ran repeated patterns of horizontal lines up and down the grey image. The sound was a distorted recording of some sort of breathing. I attempted to fine tune the knobs on the front panel, to try and get a glimpse of what the television was trying to portray. Maybe I shouldn't have done this. Aliased edges worked themselves out to form an image that reflected myself. As soon as I touched the broken glass, the television burst to life and started shaking dangerously. Floorboards expressed their disapproval with heavy creaking. The high pitched sound reached a maximum before it started to soften and fade away. When I finally opened my eyes to survey the damage, I was shocked to see the room flooded with color. Everything around me was flooded with a burning yellow light. Walls were painted with bright colors, and the floor was polished with a smooth cherry finish. The old television in the corner was displaying the image of the room in full color, watching me. It seemed like the entire room breathed a healthy sigh of relief at that point.
Color brought life to that room, but it also brings life to the universe.
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