The Golden Fleece
learned to call it red. Physiology tells us that it’s a good question. Different people’s retinas really do differ in their sensitivity to particular wavelengths and the neuronal signals they transmit in response.”
     
    “So?” Jarndyke prompted.
     
    Adrian didn’t want to be hurried; if he was going to give Jarndyke the explanation, he wanted to do it his way. “The second phase,” he said, “is the other end of the neuronal chain: what the cells of the brain pick up from the signal and how they process it. Everybody’s brain is slightly different; identical signals, if there were any, don’t always produce the identical results in making raw information available to consciousness.”
     
    “Which is phase three,” Jarndyke put in, to demonstrate that he was keeping up. “Different minds, different interpretations again. Some people are color blind. Some people have no taste—I’m one of them, according to my wife. This I know. So what? Not in terms of philosophical paradoxes, but in terms of material difference.”
     
    “People differ in their perception of color and sensitivity to its nuances,” Adrian said, refusing to be hurried, but now deliberately slanting the argument in a direction that might seem relevant to the industrialist, “but the number of people whose physiology makes them objectively incapable of discriminations—as in color blindness—is relatively small. Most insensitivity occurs at the level of consciousness. The individual’s brain can discriminate, and does—but the mind takes no notice. Lots of people are unaware of color clashes when they dress, or when they look at other people’s costumes—but the fact that they’re consciously unaware doesn’t mean that they’re immune to the subtle effects of color that they’re registering physiologically. It really does make a psychological difference what colors you put on your bedroom walls, whether you’re consciously aware of it or not. You really can be driven mad by creepy wallpaper. And you might not know, when you look at someone else’s outfit, what message it’s sending to your brain—but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t making a difference to your perception of them, and hence to your attitudes and your treatment of them. Power-dressing works, especially if it’s cleverly color-coordinated. Color matters, Mr. Jarndyke, in textiles as in everything else. Esthetics matter. Some people might not know exactly how or why they matter, and they might sneer at the people who can bring those things to the level of consciousness, but what we see and what we wear makes far more difference than insensitive people are able to see.”
     
    Jarndyke seemed to be busy thinking about that, and thinking hard. Not wanting to let silence fall, Adrian added: “Your business sense and the inventive acumen of your reverse engineers have made you the most successful textile manufacturer in the world, Mr. Jarndyke. As you just said, in terms of efficiency of production and texture, your wools, silks and hybrids are near-perfect. In terms of the sense of touch, they’re practically unbeatable, but in terms of the sense of sight—especially color—they have a long way to go.”
     
    “We’re supposed to be talking about you, Son, not me,” Jarndyke pointed out. “Personal reasons?”
     
    “That’s right,” Adrian replied, gathering his courage. “Some people have perfect pitch—they can hear the music more clearly and more subtly than their fellows, because they can discriminate the notes more precisely. I have perfect color sensation— or, at least, far better color sensation than the vast majority of people. My retinas are first-rate in that respect, my brain too, but most importantly, I’m fully conscious of what they’re registering. I don’t say that there aren’t people in the world even more sensitive than I am, but I’m plenty good enough to do anything you need me to do.”
     
    Jarndyke frowned at that.

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