Talking to Strangers

Meeting a stranger creates, in me, a strange fiction.

People are remarkably accurate at guessing the characteristics of a stranger from the briefest moments of exposure (known as "thin slices" in this area of person-perception research).  These "thin slices" of behavior can be as short as five seconds, thirty seconds, or a few minutes.  We can read the warmth of a person, neuroticism, even sexual orientation, almost automatically.

Yet, people have a way of surprising us. That best friend you've had for 20 years?  The one right beside you, patching up scrapes after taking a spill on the street, the one who held your hand when the police came with bad news?  You don't know that friend as well as you think.

Because situations, especially new and frightening situations, can push a person to react very differently.  But isn't that still the friend you know?

When I meet a stranger, I don't always know what part of me will show itself. Will I be brusque and guarded like Mer Pampero?  Free-spirited but increasingly somber like Shanna Tramontane?  Or well-intentioned but ineffective like Dek Sundowner?  Well, it depends...on so many factors.

And there are many situations in our lives in which we meet someone for just three minutes or fewer.  We never know which impression of ourselves we'll leave behind -- is it the Good Me, or the Bad Me? -- or how others will try to make sense of the way we act.

So yes, that first meeting with a new person brings an unusual tension to the relationship.  When I take you in at first glance, I'll adapt myself a bit to meet you in the middle.  Or maybe I won't, if I'm Mer Pampero that day.

Is my character Dek who he is because of the people he's known?  Do these people bring out something that's already in him?  Or does he mirror, in his behavior or his words, what he thinks they want to see in him?

The better question is, can he do any of that in his current condition?

So, readers...when do I meet you?  And, which version of me do you expect to meet?

Ren D.