He had expected the farmlands to look much of the same as they always did. There wasn't much difference between pale beiges and creams and shades of grey, in his mind.
He was surprised when he reached the farms and realized that it looked just as desolate as everywhere else. Part of him had hoped it would've looked a little less depressing. Part of him had hoped the difference wouldn't have been this jarring.
He held that little machine in his hands. He already had so little time on his hands to find some source of color. That scientist had told him the machine could help him find the remaining colors. So why wasn't it picking up on anything? He had no time!
After walking for a while with no reaction and no colors in sight, he started stressing. "Come on!" he yelled at the machine, shaking it. "Why won't you pick up on anything?!" Why did he need this thing, anyway? In this desolate, drab, colorless world, he'd see the colors. Had that scientist just been playing him for a fool?
A spark of anger popped, and he threw the machine down on the ground. "Stupid thing!"
He leaned over the wooden fence, hands holding his head. He glanced up, seeing Tuskows and other cattle roaming the fields slowly, as if nothing were wrong. A putrid, recognizable smell overwhelmed him. "This whole thing is shit," he whispered pitifully.