No sir, this man of science is no terrorist: he is a simple but gifted third 
world scientist. He had worked doubly hard to find an opening into this 
prestigious research and development laboratory. He looked at his own 
haggard face in the mirror. Drawn, dark. Yes he was 'black' by American 
definition, so was his wife and two daughters. Two years in running now, he 
had prospected for a good match for his girls, but color, not character, not 
accomplishments, was the key. In India, in America. He had himself faced the 
subtle allusions to his complexion, more than once, within earshot, even in 
his work place. His family too had been through anguish. Back then, his 
newly wed wife, had found it hard to come to terms with the amount of malice 
melanin generated in the land of stars and stripes: it was she sobbed one 
day, a hundred times worse here.

He left the laboratory late, long after midnight. He had it all planned. He had, by virtue of his standing, free access to classified documents and hi-security facilities. He headed for the city waterworks. A few more doors, a few more passwords, and he was there now: the core of the establishment. He leaned over the large pool of stored water. He extricated a small vial of crystalline powder from his overcoat pocket: he shook the contents into the pool below. He repeated the visit a fortnight later, and again and again he dropped in a further six more months, each time emptying a few grams of white stuff into the city water supply.

He drove past the Capitol on his way home. He took a detour to drive past 
the White House and Pentagon too. Washington was lovely by night. Soon, he 
knew it wouldn't be lovely by night, or day either. He went to his apartment, and sat down to gulp a cup of black coffee, eating a pizza he'd picked up on the way. His family, they were now in India for the last few months, looking for suitable boys. He turned on the TV to CNN. He had done so, religiously for the last eight months.

His ears pricked up, and goose bumps spread over his kin: An emergency 
medical problem had to be run on the President, and he'd been taken for 
investigation and biopsy, Nothing serious, only skin biopsy - a 
dermatological allergy had been suspected. The VP was now in charge of the 
United States. Our man smiled, and this time screamed eureka, loud.

The course of the medical problem was relentless, and most amazingly, almost every third man, woman and child in the USA was now suspected to be harboring some yet unknown chemical agent. An agent so potent that it could alter their life and personality.
The professor chuckled to himself as he watched the drama, sweeping across Washington DC. The President appeared on the national hook-up advising calm: strange the viewers noted, he was swathed in scarf a la Michael Jackson, covering half his face. He looked at the image on the screen closely: the forehead was deeply tanned. He rubbed his hands, and waited - he knew it would come. The telephone call. His mobile buzzed to life: it was from higher ups: could the professor come to the laboratory right away. He quickly wore on his coat and got into the waiting car, sirens ablaze it 
raced. Back in the laboratory, he was ushered into the presence of very 
senior people from White House and Defense staff.

We need your opinion doctor: they placed a large yellow file in front of him. 
He knew what it contained. Not for nothing was he known as the world 
authority on cell biology, with specialization in microtubule conducted 
axoplasmic flows. His papers on functional derangements and modulations in hypothalamic controls through chemical interference were of Nobel quality.

He scanned the sheets of papers, read the medical reports, and spent the 
next two hours discussing the problem. No, nothing could reverse the 
process. It is one way and permanent. The physiological changes were 
unalterable. The thirteen white men who sat on the conference table, looked 
at each other, as the import of the chilling words sank in. They continued 
to stare into each other’s face, wide eyed and shell shocked. For each one of 
them, was no longer white, but had slowly over the last few months observed 
they were turning bronze brown.

In a year, the professor said, all white Americans in Washington, would be 
as dark as their racial counterpart caucasians in Asia. My color, like me. 
Some unknown agent X had penetrated the cerebral circulation of all 
Washingtonians and it had disrupted the hypothalamo - hypophyseal melanocyte stimulating mechanisms, and altered Hormone levels permanently. Melanocyes are the chemical cell inclusions that produce skin color. The more the melanin, the darker one's skin is.

What about the blacks? What does it do to blacks?

Oh, they'll remain black, I will remain brown as will the Hispanics, but 
white America - sorry men, it will no longer stay white. In twelve months.

That's only Washington area professor? Why not evacuate DC?

An alternative yes, but rapid decisions and fast processing were required. 
Is Washington ready for move, will the advisory create panic and havoc? The 
professor said smugly: reaching for his overcoat's right pocket, curling his 
fingers on the air tickets he had bought the next morning's flight, to New 
York.

You can stay in touch with me Mr. Secretary he continued: his left hand 
reaching for the deep end of his left pocket. His index and thumb ran round 
the small package. A packet that contained half a kilogram of a white 
crystalline powder, fifty vials, each with five grams - enough to turn white 
New York, black in three months. And then, to Chicago, San Francisco, all 
over, then maybe Europe, Paris, London, Berlin..at least, he was certain, 
his family would heartily approve of his mission.

(The article originally appeared on www.sulekha.com).

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