The Day I could Taste the Colors

Something really strange happened to me the other day. It was a quiet Sunday morning, and I made some fried eggs for breakfast—nothing out of the ordinary. But when I took a bite, they didn’t just taste like eggs. There was a bizarre mix of flavors: lemon, vanilla yogurt, and even paper. Not exactly the breakfast of champions. I thought maybe I’d stick to tea instead, but the moment I took a sip, I spit it out—it was like drinking a cup of black pepper!

Desperate for relief, I reached for water. Thankfully, that was still normal. I tried eating strawberries next, but they tasted like hot chili peppers. Everything in the house seemed to have lost its actual taste—or rather, gained new, weird ones. I nervously sipped some orange juice, expecting another disaster. Surprisingly, it was completely normal. Then an odd thought hit me: Am I tasting colors?

I had to test it. I licked the white back of my phone, and it tasted exactly like vanilla yogurt—just like the egg earlier. That confirmed it: I could taste colors, and each color added its own flavor to food. As strange as it was, I couldn’t help but be curious. I went to the store, bought a pack of markers, and began tasting each one like a science experiment. Yellow tasted like lemon, red was chili, pink was strawberry, orange was—well—orange. Blue was bitter, light blue salty, violet blueberry, and black… yep, black pepper. Green was the worst: it tasted like vomit.

Clearly, I now had rules—no more green food, or anything black, gray, or blue for that matter. I didn’t hate this new ability, but I had to be smart about it. I rushed back out to buy clear dishes and transparent cutlery, so nothing would interfere with my food's flavor. I brainstormed a menu of foods that wouldn’t clash with these new color tastes—fruit salad with mango, banana, grapes, and yogurt seemed safe. I even discovered my lip tasted like strawberry while thinking.

Just as I finished preparing the best fruit salad I’d ever had, my grandma called and insisted I come for dinner. I knew I couldn't risk eating “puke-flavored” green beans or pepper tea, so it was time to face the music and go to the doctor.

I made it to the clinic just in time. My doctor looked confused when I told him I could taste colors, but I explained everything—the eggs, the markers, even the long search for a clear spoon. It all made more sense in my head, but I told him anyway. After all, I didn’t want to risk dinner at Grandma’s with this bizarre superpower messing up my taste buds.

The doctor sat in silence, looking both skeptical and amused. After checking my temperature, blood pressure, and inspecting my tongue, he finally smirked and asked, “So… you’ve been eating markers?” I glanced in a mirror and, yep—my tongue looked like a rainbow. Definitely not the look of a healthy adult. Clearly, he didn’t take me seriously and simply suggested I get some rest.

So, still stuck with my bizarre ability, I had no choice but to face my grandma’s dinner. I headed home first to grab my transparent utensils—at least I wouldn’t be forced to taste paper using her gray metal fork. With a couple of hours to kill, I searched the internet for answers, but there was nothing—not a single article or case like mine. In desperation, I chugged a gallon of water thinking it might wash the weirdness away. No luck.

When I arrived at Grandma’s, she greeted me warmly and announced she’d made my favorite—broccoli pancakes. Unfortunately, what used to be a treat now tasted like absolute horror. I tried to decline politely, offering to just sip on orange juice, but of course, she insisted. I was handed a plate stacked with green pancakes and a cup of black tea—aka, puke and pepper.

Then, an idea struck: if I added lemon to the tea, the color might change to brown—coffee flavor, which I could handle. Luckily, Grandma had a lemon, and it worked! One problem solved. But I still had to eat the pancakes. Trying not to make a face, I smiled through each awful bite, pretending it was delicious while mentally suffering through the worst meal of my life. I guzzled down three cups of my “coffee-tea” just to make it through.

Afterward, Grandma was beaming with joy, proud of her cooking. She even had vanilla yogurt, which I ate quickly to erase the disgusting aftertaste. On my way home, chewing on my now-familiar strawberry-tasting lip, I thought hard about how to end this color-tasting curse. But I had no answers. So, I gave up and went to bed early—exhausted and defeated.

The next morning, I made my usual fruit salad and yogurt combo, eating with my transparent fork while watching TV. But something felt… different. The lemon flavor was gone. I tested other foods—my lip had no strawberry taste, and the strawberries themselves tasted like actual strawberries again. Everything was back to normal.

It was as if none of it ever happened—but I swear it did.

Now that I think about it, life is a lot like a video game. It's almost like a role-playing game. You start off with low stats—zero skills, a tiny health bar—and things are set to “hard mode” right from birth. As a baby, all you do is sleep and eat to stay alive. At level one, you unlock walking, but the full world is still locked and dangerous. Your parents act as quest-givers, guiding you through a long tutorial phase called “Childhood.” Most major features are still unavailable, and your choices are limited.

But the more polite and cooperative you are, the more rewards you earn—like allowance or privileges. As you grow, your health and skill levels rise. School might not be a magical academy, but it's still where you learn, grow, and take on quests. And once you reach level 18, you’re finally ready to start the next chapter of the game: real life.

Life as the Ultimate Role-Playing Game

Life feels a lot like an epic RPG, and you’re right in the middle of it. Just like in a classic video game, you begin by choosing your character class and preferred skill path—the tools you'll need to navigate and conquer the world. While games offer many roles like warriors or mages, in reality, most of us become adventurers—constantly exploring, learning, and taking on new challenges to earn experience and resources.

Eventually, you leave the comfort of your childhood "safe zone" and venture into the unknown. It’s a lot like stepping into a dark, enemy-filled forest. The foes you face aren’t dragons—they’re challenges named Responsibility, Work, and Money. They’re tough, persistent, and they don’t go away easily. But if you’ve equipped yourself well—say, by studying and preparing—you’ll gain the skills needed to take them down.

Now picture this: you’re on a date, and someone asks if you like animals. You say, “I love cats,” but they respond with “I’m more of a dog person.” You might wish you could hit pause, reload a save, and change your answer—but in this game, there’s no redo button. You're playing on hard mode, with just one life. Every action has weight and consequences—not just for you, but for everyone else in the game.

Social interaction is one of the most vital (and tricky) aspects of the game. Be careful—this game has strict “admins,” and breaking the rules can land you in a whole different game mode, one where your movement is limited to four walls and a barred window. No one wants that.

But hey, character customization is off the charts! You can change your hairstyle, hair color, style, tattoos—you name it. Every time you level up, you gain new abilities and unlock fresh quests. The monsters get tougher, but the rewards are better—maybe a higher salary or your own home.

And there’s a special questline you unlock when you’ve leveled up enough: starting a family. You can create a new character (aka a child), pass on your knowledge, and guide them until they're ready to explore the world themselves. You can’t control them, though—they’ve got their own story to live.

There are other amazing features in this game, too. The graphics? Unreal. Think ultra-HD reality, crisp and stunning. But the gameplay? Way more complex than any other RPG. You’ve got to manage your health, build relationships, earn gold, and take rest seriously. The plot? That’s entirely up to you. If you just sit back and let the game play itself, it might feel dull. But if you put effort into your journey, your character can become legendary.

Still, wouldn’t it be cool if life had some of the perks of video games? Like fast travel—so you could teleport straight to work instead of slogging through traffic. Or cheat codes—double your bank balance, cure your cold instantly. Sadly, those don't exist… yet.

But until they do, keep leveling up, adventurer. Your journey’s just getting started.

From Gaming to Space: Lessons from Virtual Worlds and Hopes for the Future

Sure, it would be nice to just press a cheat code and instantly refill your health bar—but where’s the fun in that? If life worked like a video game with shortcuts and instant rewards, it might become pretty boring. Still, imagining life as a game helps us understand it better. Most of what we do in life mirrors game mechanics: setting small goals, completing tasks, gaining rewards, and slowly leveling up. Like in games, we need to manage our energy, time, and resources wisely if we want to keep progressing.

Some people argue that video games are harmful, claiming they make players disconnect from real life. But in truth, many games actually teach valuable life skills. They’re often structured similarly to real life and reward effort, persistence, and progress. Working through challenges in a game from start to finish helps players see that achieving goals takes time and commitment—and that consistent hard work does pay off.

Games also teach collaboration. Online games bring together millions of players who must learn to cooperate, strategize, and work as a team—skills that translate directly to real life. Sure, instead of defeating dungeon bosses, we might be dealing with difficult coworkers or demanding bosses, but the core teamwork remains the same.

There’s also science to back up the benefits. In one study, researchers asked two groups of young adults (with no gaming background) to play different types of games: one played fast-paced action games, the other slower strategy games. After 50 hours, the action game players showed improved visual perception and quicker decision-making. The quick pace of the game helped them get better at processing information and reacting under pressure—skills useful in real-world situations.

Bonus Level: Life Aboard a Spaceship

Now let’s imagine something more futuristic—living on a spaceship. Sounds like something out of a sci-fi film, right? But as technology progresses, it might not be that far off.

Let’s start with lighting. On Earth, our atmosphere scatters sunlight to create soft ambient light. But in space, there’s no sky, just raw starlight. One side of the ship could be bathed in light while the other remains in total darkness—just like a crescent moon. And if the ship travels far from any star system, it could be completely surrounded by deep space darkness. To solve that, engineers might install artificial sunlight—LED panels designed to mimic daylight, helping passengers feel more at home.

But what about the people? Studies suggest a spacefaring population of 160 people could survive for 200 years—if chosen carefully. Crew members should come from a diverse gene pool to avoid genetic problems, ideally being no closer than sixth or seventh cousins. Maybe, centuries from now, nations will live aboard giant space colonies. Instead of neighboring countries, we might have neighboring ships.

This scenario brings to mind sci-fi films like Thor: Ragnarok, where survivors escape on ships to settle new planets. Could we do the same? Maybe we’d head for Proxima Centauri b, the closest known exoplanet with potential for life. Scientists think it might even have liquid water. Sounds promising, but there’s a catch—it’s almost 25 trillion miles away.

For perspective, one of the fastest spacecraft we’ve built, New Horizons, travels over 30,000 mph, and at that speed, it would still take thousands of years to reach Proxima b. Unless we unlock warp speed, the journey would last generations.

This is where generation ships come in: the idea that the original crew would live, have children, and pass on the mission across centuries. Eventually, their descendants would be the ones to arrive at the new planet.

Of course, other travel methods are being imagined too, but that’s a whole new questline for another day.

Life on a Generation Starship: Humanity’s Journey to the Stars

If science ever discovers a way for humans to live hundreds of years or perfects cryogenic freezing, we might not need ships that carry multiple generations to distant planets. But assuming we still need them, how would life look on one of these massive vessels?

Strict Rules and Limited Choices

Romance and freedom might be things of the past. Geneticists could oversee reproduction to ensure healthy genetic diversity, and jobs would likely be assigned—not chosen—based on ability, interest, and necessity. Each generation would need doctors, engineers, teachers, and maintenance workers. Kids could even take career-matching tests, placing them where they’re most useful. It’s a bit like the world of Snowpiercer, but hopefully much more humane.

Essential Resources and Recycling

Water will be one of the most precious resources. A person needs roughly 300 gallons a year, and there's no stopping by planets for a refill. Thankfully, we already have tech that recycles astronaut waste into clean water. Plastic might be outdated by then, and recycling systems would be advanced enough to handle nearly all waste.

Health in Space

One concern is microbial diversity. A sterile spaceship environment could weaken immune systems over time. Without exposure to bacteria, people might struggle to adapt to a new planet’s ecosystem. Protection from radiation is also crucial—deep space is filled with harmful rays. Unlike Earth, which has a magnetic field, ships will need shielding—maybe even energy-based force fields.

Nature, Education, and Mental Health

NASA is already experimenting with growing plants in orbit. Future ships will likely include areas for farming and livestock. They might even carry samples of Earth’s ecosystems—plants, insects, and birds—to create peaceful parks for relaxation and mental well-being. Kids would need education tailored to space survival—think "Alien Planet Survival 101."

AI, Robots, and Planning for Arrival

By the time this happens, artificial intelligence and robots will be key players. Self-replicating robots might scout ahead, evaluating planets before we arrive. We could even send robotic probes to multiple worlds and choose the best option.

Real Projects: The 100-Year Starship

This concept isn’t just sci-fi. Projects like the 100-Year Starship, involving researchers like Mark G. Millis, are developing concepts such as Icarus, a probe that could theoretically travel at 10–20% of light speed. It’s not sleek—it looks like a floating skyscraper made of fuel tanks—but it’s designed with functionality in mind.

Artificial gravity is another challenge. Without it, humans would suffer from bone and muscle loss. The solution may be large rotating habitats that simulate Earth’s gravity through centrifugal force.

Landing and Settling

Once we reach our destination—say Europa or Proxima B—crews must be ready for anything. They'll need scanners, building tools, and maybe defense gear. Eventually, they’ll develop technologies to travel between planets. Imagine a kid saying, “Mom, I brought you a Mars rock!”

New careers could include planetary tour guides, exoplanet customs officers, or meteorite storm reporters. Picture a newscast:

“Meteor storm incoming—stay indoors for the next two years!”

What do you imagine this vessel would look like—sleek like a rocket, or something entirely new?

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🌋 When the Oceans Turn to Lava: A Fiery Earthly Nightmare

Imagine walking toward the beach and feeling the air turn unbearably hot. The sand melts your shoes, and where the ocean once was, there’s now a boiling, orange sea of lava.

Lava: What It Really Is

Lava is molten rock from deep beneath Earth’s surface, heated to over 2,000°F. Normally, it only appears near volcanic regions. But in this scenario, every ocean has transformed into lava. From afar, it might look stunning—but it’s deadly.

No Life Left in the Water

Lava is thick—more like peanut butter than water. It doesn’t move with the wind, and nothing can swim or sink in it. Marine life would be wiped out. Only tardigrades, tiny resilient organisms, might survive—they’re known to withstand radiation, freezing, and even the vacuum of space.

Cities Become Infernos

Coastal cities would instantly become uninhabitable. Island nations would vanish. Even areas far inland would feel the heat. Houses near the sea would melt, and no beach resorts could survive. Earth’s landscape would look like a glowing lava sphere. Snow would be gone, and even mountaintops would feel like deserts.

The Skies Turn Toxic

Oil rigs and ships at sea would melt or explode. Meanwhile, the melting of polar ice caps upon contact with lava would form black, glassy rocks. The steam released—called "laze" (lava + haze)—would fill the sky with acidic, toxic clouds.

Earth would become an unrecognizable world. The once-beautiful blue oceans now deadly molten rivers. You’d run, trying to escape—but the heat would follow, relentless and inescapable.

Toxic Air, Lava Oceans, and a World in Ruin

If the skies filled with deadly gas from massive lava fields, the air would be too hazardous to breathe. This toxic mix—sometimes filled with tiny shards of glass—could travel across the globe, carried by powerful winds. Entire regions, including large parts of the Northern Hemisphere and southern nations like New Zealand, Argentina, South Africa, and Australia, would be blanketed by this noxious haze.

Flying through it? Not a chance. Planes would suffer from the intense heat alone, which could melt external components and fry internal systems. It’s a good thing you remembered to grab your oxygen tank because just walking around would be a life-threatening challenge. You rush to your car and escape the city, hoping the countryside is less affected. But even out there, the environment is changing. Rivers are drying up, plants are wilting, and animals have fled. Streams that once fed into oceans now harden instantly into jagged glass-like rock, cutting off water flow. Lakes and ponds slowly evaporate under relentless heat and lack of rain.

A Dry, Burning Planet

With oceans gone, the Earth’s climate system would collapse. No water means no clouds. Without clouds, rain ceases—and without rain, even inland water sources disappear. Temperatures would soar, turning Earth into an arid, sweltering desert. Day and night would both be scorching. Yes, even nighttime offers no relief.

But over time, lava cools. A thin black crust forms on its surface, gradually thickening. While the surface might look solid, underneath it remains molten for centuries. Touching it might not instantly burn you, but falling through the crust would be a fatal mistake—like walking on a frozen lake and crashing into boiling magma instead of cold water.

How Lava Shapes the World

This is actually how volcanic islands form—take Hawaii, for example. Lava builds up layer by layer under the sea until it breaks the surface and eventually becomes land. Even today, new landmasses are forming there. One active volcano may give rise to a new island in around 10,000 years.

In time, the once-blue oceans will become vast black plains of solidified lava. But don’t think you can stroll across them any time soon—some areas like the Mariana Trench, which plunges over 43,000 feet deep, could take thousands of years to cool completely.

Other Lava Worlds and Humanity’s Future

Believe it or not, there are actual "lava planets" out in the universe. One such world, called K2-141b, has oceans of molten rock, winds blowing at thousands of miles per hour, and even rains made of vaporized stone. It orbits dangerously close to its star, so perhaps its seas once turned to lava too—just like our imagined Earth.

In this bleak future, humanity eventually escapes our dying solar system, possibly colonizing Mars or the Moon. But a new cosmic threat emerges—our Sun is destined to explode in 150 years. There’s no time to invent faster-than-light travel, so the solution is a fleet of colossal generation ships.

Living on Starships for Millions of Years

As humanity begins its journey across the galaxy, time stretches into millennia. Space travel changes everything. Our muscles atrophy, bones weaken, and our bodies stretch taller in zero gravity. At first, we use gravity simulation and exercise machines—but eventually, they stop working or get repurposed.

People grow more fragile with each passing century. Mechanical suits become essential for survival—providing strength, mobility, and support. Vision deteriorates, so artificial lenses are developed. Our lungs, no longer needed in controlled air environments, begin to disappear. Instead, humans adapt to absorb oxygen from water or tanks.

The Rise of Machine-Human Hybrids

Our food becomes tasteless synthetic liquids as digestion becomes obsolete. Voices weaken and eventually fade, replaced by built-in microphones and speakers. Some people opt to be frozen, risking cryogenic sleep for centuries. Others choose digital immortality—uploading their minds into a central computer, waiting to be downloaded into new robotic bodies.

Over time, humanity becomes unrecognizable. We evolve into mind-controlled machines—bags of brain matter inside armored exposits. Facial features fade away. Limbs disappear. The human body becomes redundant; consciousness is all that remains.

Rediscovering Our Origins

Millions of years pass. Ships continue their journey, and the story of Earth becomes a distant myth. When we finally reach a new world, most passengers feel no urge to leave their vessels. They’ve adapted to life in space so completely that gravity, weather, and germs feel like an alien threat.

But some brave souls do settle. They begin evolving once more, adapting to their new planet’s air, climate, and unknown chemicals. Their robotic bodies slowly take new forms.

A Future Beyond Recognition

Someday, their descendants might develop time-traveling ships to study their origins. Perhaps they’ll visit a small blue planet called Earth and realize that long ago, it was home.

Meanwhile, others continue roaming space, colonizing new worlds and changing with each stop. Billions of years from now, every intelligent being across the galaxy may trace their roots back to the same source: humanity.

You and your friend are on your way to an anime convention, but there’s one problem—your friend is attracting too much attention. Strangers are staring and snapping photos, so you lend him your hoodie to keep a low profile. The trip takes about an hour, and when you arrive, the venue is packed with anime fans in full costume: Pokémon, Dragon Ball Z, Attack on Titan—you name it.

Before lining up, you decide to buy some merch and blend in. Despite the crowd, your friend still sticks out, even in disguise. When the hoodie slips off, people rush toward him, thinking he’s wearing an insanely realistic costume. They bombard him with questions and selfies, but no one can figure out which character he’s supposed to be.

Inside the venue, chaos brews. You message someone from an online thread who tells you to find the "guardian princess" on the first level—whatever that means. Loud music blares, and surprise competitions keep popping up. Suddenly, your friend is dragged onstage for a “Best Costume” contest. He looks confused, and so do you—until his eyes flash red, lightning crackles around his fists, and his hair rises. Everyone thinks it’s a performance, but you know it’s not.

Panicking, you rush to pull him offstage. He returns to normal, but the crowd boos as you're leaving. Right then, he's announced as the winner, but it’s too late—you’re already gone. Your friend is shaken and scared, and you're starting to wonder if coming here was a huge mistake.

You try to get back to the city, but something’s off. You notice a mysterious woman in white with sky-blue hair—someone you’ve seen before, even on the bus. While you and your friend stop for refreshments and research, he suddenly collapses. His eyes glow red again, and electrical energy pulses from his hands. The floor shakes. Objects, people—everything starts floating. Onlookers are still convinced it’s part of the event.

Then she appears—the guardian princess from the message. Her red eyes meet your friend’s, and they launch into a high-speed aerial chase that tears through the convention. Booths shatter, structures collapse, and terrified fans scatter. You try to hide and help others, but things only get weirder.

Fans begin *transforming* into the anime characters they dressed as—life-sized versions of Pokémon, Titans, and Saiyans fill the venue, now in full chaos. Battles break out, and even the news catches wind of the madness. You try to flee, but anime characters have overrun the city. Titans crush buildings, Pokémon battle in the streets, and the world as you knew it changes forever.

You search desperately for your friend, but he’s nowhere to be found. The convention center lies in ruins. Then...

**One year later**, you wake up at home, ready to start a new semester—as if nothing ever happened.