[ WP ] A terrorist act during the 40-50 's results in the creation of color . Describe the before , the during , and the after of this event .

As the nurse unwrapped the blood pressure cuff, Mary leaned in close. `` Any change?'' 
 
 The nurse shook her head. `` Nothing. His vitals are as stable as they've ever been. It may be a psychological issue- people can revert to earlier conditions after serious trauma. It's the only explanation I can think of- there has n't been a case like this in over ten years.'' 
 
 Mary nodded, and the nurse walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Mary leaned in close, brushing a few dark strands of hair off her husband's face. `` Oh, Douglas... what happened?'' His chest rose and fell slowly and steadily, but instead of the sound of breathing, all she could hear was the faint sound of a piano playing, like some distant accompaniment. She closed her eyes in silent frustration, leaned over, kissed him on the forehead. 
 
 He shifted under her lips, moving for the first time in days. `` Douglas!'' she exclaimed, and went to hug him, but her hands on his cotton hospital gown made no sound, and she recoiled away. `` Honey... what's wrong? Why is this happening?'' 
 
 His lips moved silently, and he gazed right into her, his eyes begging her to understand. As he saw her look of confusion, he slid his hand under the blanket, and came up with a dark-colored placard, with pale words picked out in an elegant font. It read, `` My sweet, sweet Mary... It was so hard to adjust after sound came around. I never told you, but I've always longed for the silent days, how a whole story could be told with just a look.'' He pulled a long face, exaggeratedly sad. 
 
 She put a hand to her mouth. `` I thought you were happy! Your career was n't the same, but as long as we had each other...'' 
 
 He'spoke' again, taking out a new placard, and adopted a more neutral expression. `` I'm happier this way- I am. It hurts me to know that you wo n't understand- you always were a modern girl, quick to adopt the new fashions. But I've got a last trick up my sleeve that will make these'talkie' actors' heads spin.'' A sly grin came to his face, and he gave her a roguish wink. He lifted up a hand, three fingers extended, and slowly ticked them down. Three... two... one... zero. After a moment, there was a dull roar from outside the window. Mary rushed to the sill. 
 
 A few miles away, where the studio lots lay, *something* was happening. A great fireball was rising from one of the warehouses, but it was strange, impossible somehow. It hurt Mary's eyes to look at it- it was bright, but in ways nothing else had ever been bright before. She could feel the heat on her face, even from that distance- that was it! It was the color of what heat felt like. But how...? 
 
 Below the subsiding ball of flame, a shock wave spread out across the landscape, destroying nothing, but altering it somehow. Buildings seemed to morph, twist in her vision, taking on new and strange properties like the blast, but different. The darker-colored cars on the street remained mostly the same, but others became strange and garish. Mary's eyes were wide and disbelieving. The shock wave moved out in a great bubble, and when the leading edge hit the sky... 
 
 Her legs collapsed out from under her, and she went down on the floor. The faint piano music took on an urgent tone, and Douglas sat upright in alarm, pulling out a card reading, `` Mary?!?'' 
 
 She took a deep breath. `` I'm alright. It's just... that *thing*...'' She closed her eyes. The sky had changed from its comforting pale hue to something freakish and disgusting, washing through the air. It was cold and harsh, entirely alien and yet eerily familiar. It reminded her of her mother's voice when she had done something wrong as a child, calm and cool and bitter, telling her she was a failure, a disappointment. That chilled feeling that had come into her then felt just like how the sky looked. 
 
 She opened her eyes in time to see Douglas wince, and his torso fell back down onto the bed. Mary ran over, her trance broken. `` Honey? What's wrong?'' 
 
 He shook his head, and managed to flash his trademark grin, a little of the old twinkle coming back into his eyes. He pulled out a card. `` Looks like I'm getting the last laugh on the studio fat cats. Mary, you'll do just fine- I know it. Find yourself a new beau- someone who looks good in color.'' 
 
 She took his hand. `` Color? I do n't understand...'' 
 
 Just then, the wave reached them, and she nearly dropped his hand in astonishment. Her skin! It was changing! She took on a new hue, something she had n't seen outside. It changed very little from how it had been, but was somehow more vibrant, deeper, richer. She was so astonished that she hardly noticed Douglas's colors remained the same. 
 
 His lips opened in a silent gasp. His chest heaved, and he closed his eyes, lips parted, straining to make a few last words. There was no sound, and after a moment his head lolled limply to the side, unmoving. 
 
 Mary choked out a sob, tears coming into her eyes, blurring the strange new hues that had covered everything in the room except Douglas in his bed. She embraced him, cradling his head against her shoulder, her tears staining the thin cotton gown. She cried for long minutes. 
 
 When her last sob had gone, she leaned back, and for the first time realized there was something between Douglas's hand and hers, pressing into her skin. She lifted it up to look at it, and found it was a miniature version of one of the placards, just large enough to carry its simple message: `` I love you.''
