|What senses are needed to make a world a world? Is it any less a world if we cannot see it, cannot smell it, cannot touch and taste it? At what point do we experience too few sensory inputs to judge a world a world?
On the other hand, what are we missing if we skip a sense out? A silent world, a sterile world, are these desirable, or does each sense contribute more than we know?
A Silent World
You stroll along the verge, the grass silently folding under your feet. Not a birdsong around, the wind whips up nearby fallen leaves and scatters them, the moving air not whistling, the dry leaves soundlessly hitting the pavement. As you walk along the street, no dogs bark; no cats howl; children play silently, a vehicle of some sort zips by without a whisper. Up in the sky, a jet trail from an aircraft forms, without the noise of any engine.
A Sterile World
On a sunny spring day, the blossom is in the trees, multicoloured flowers pepper the verges as you walk down the path. The wind picks the blossom and blows it past your face in a cloud, an unfragranced cloud. Stooping down, you press your face to a flower, and inhale deeply, finding it completely odourless. Frowning, you try another and another, not a smell among the bunch.
A Ghostly World
You are travelling through a forest, dappled sunlight streaming through the branches above, casting shadows on the ground. Leaves crunch underfoot, and the odour floats up to you. Closing your eyes, you reach out to pluck a flower - and feel nothing. Opening your eyes, you see your hand is in the middle of the plant you tried to pluck. Carefully, focussing with your eyes, by trial and error, you grasp and break off the flower, not feeling anything between your fingers. Suddenly, you realise you cannot even feel your fingers, you have not been feeling them, and you run a hand over your body, no sensation; you have to look to see you are touching skin.
A Bland World
Walking through the orchard on a warm summer day, the smells of nature in your nostrils, the soft padding of grass underfoot, you reach up a hand, and grab a juicy red apple from a tree, plucking it delicately. You bring it to your nose and smell the fragrance, then you bite into it. It is like chewing rubber. Completely tasteless. No juice, no sweet flesh, you cannot even detect it in your mouth.
A Dark World
It is beyond dark, it is pitch black. No motes of light, to glittering beams, no nothing. You blink and cannot tell if you did just blink or not. Away in the distance a humming begins. You hear it, and turn towards it. It is coming from your left, and down a ways. Beyond that you cannot tell. Reaching out, you grasp at empty air. The fear rises as you reach out for something, anything to grasp on, and through some flailing, you find a smooth wall.