For to all intents and purposes I was going blind. My "range" of vision remained the same but it was shifting down the scale. The first colors to fade out of my vision were violet and blue and their tints. The sky overhead gradually became colorless, magazine covers began to lose their appeal and slip into a bleak blending of yellows and reds. Then slowly, the other colors began to grow dim and less distinct until finally even red had faded from my sight. But there were other colors that replaced them. Brilliant, scintillating colors that made seeing an adventure. Describe them to you? How could you describe "red" and "green" to a person who was blind from birth? How can I describe iridescent and vliosheen to you? Do you think you could understand? Do you think you could "see" what I mean? Oh, I could still get around in your world. I could still "see" people. All objects radiate heat, even ice. As an object's temperature goes up, the wavelength of the radiation given off goes up to the infra-red, then into the visible. I could tell how hot water was by looking at it. I could see people by the heat they gave off, glowing figures moving down the street and around the lab! And still my range of vision shifted. Down to short waves and radio waves, the language of international communication, the wavelengths that continents and countries speak to each other in. Do you know how beautiful the aerial of your radio is, the different waves running down it like ripples across a pond? Have you ever seen the glorious pool of light around a radio broadcasting station? Have you ever marveled at the thin, trailing filaments of color tangling in the nest of television antennas that the city carries on its rooftops? * * * * * The professor was worried, for along with losing my sight of this world, I began to lose interest in it. A truly blind man wouldn't for he has nothing to replace vision with, he's still bound to the commonplace globe. He can improve his hearing or his sense of touch, but nothing replaces his sight. It was different with me. I was seeing something far more interesting than the dull, mundane world. They fixed a cot up for me in the laboratory; an experiment like myself was far too important to risk on the streets. Even then, I'd bump into tables or smash lab apparatus. I suppose an important experiment like I was should have taken care of itself, sort of like a self-lubricating motor. I'd cost the university lots of money and I suppose I should have watched out for their investment--though I was probably the only one who _didn't_ care what happened to me. There finally came a day when my eyes didn't change. I had reached a sticking point. The end of the spectrum? The professor said he didn't think so.