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torquillImagine, if you will:
You have an off switch. An actual physical power button, located on some spot on your person. Maybe it's like Commander Data's, where it turns you off until you're turned back on; maybe it's just a "start your sleep cycle now" button. Nobody else you've talked to has one, though some people talk about how they drop right off to sleep if someone rubs their feet or their neck... it's just that thing you have, everybody's different.
Except you're expected to tell other people about it. Maybe your family is concerned a friend might hit it by accident. Or they think there must be other people who have one, and being open about it would help you find your tribe. Your friends urge you to talk about it to protect yourself, so that there are people who know what to watch for in case your date has nefarious plans.
So you get to tell new friends, co-workers, people you just met. "Hey, so you know, if you touch me on the back of the neck, I lose consciousness." "When I say that touching me on the inside of my left elbow is a turn-off, well..." "In my case, they call it a belly button for a reason." You can make it as lighthearted as you like, field the inevitable questions, but it boils down to one thing:
You are telling almost total strangers your biggest weakness.
And it usually goes fine. They act a little startled, then sort of nod and go "okay." But you never know what they're really thinking, and experience tells you not everyone will respect you. You got bullied in school every time someone found out. Even now, as an adult, you know somebody is going to use the knowledge against you in some way -- maybe they'll press the button because they're curious. Maybe they don't believe it's real. Maybe they want to do something nasty. Maybe they just think it would be hilarious. It wouldn't be the first time; you know someone's going to do it. Is it the person you talked to today? One of the handful you spoke to yesterday?
And every time, it's horribly disorienting. You lose time you'll never get back, and you won't know what happened. Did something bad happen? How would you find out? I mean, you can do anything to an unconscious person. What if next time, you just... don't wake up? It takes weeks for you to get your psychological bearings, to put it behind you. But you have to keep telling near-strangers about that button.
That is what I did today.
I handed out more than twenty letters describing, in precise detail, how someone can make my life a misery. I told all of my nearby neighbors about my Achilles heel. I don't know most of them. Some of them are quite pleasant; some of them have large fierce dogs and "No Trespassing" signs plastered on their fences. I gave them a gentle plea to please be kind to me, and my email address and phone number, and a Hershey's kiss if I left the letter on the porch.
And now I wait and see how many of these strangers will be kind.
Most will say nothing. I won't know whether the letter was even read, or understood, or whether they care. A couple might text me questions. And in a few days, maybe something good will happen; maybe the cleaning fumes which have been drifting down the street will go away. Maybe they won't.
But there is always the risk that someone will decide to be a deliberate jackhole and start throwing the stuff around just to mess with me. Just like there are people who put meat into supposedly vegan meals "just to see whether they'll notice", I've had someone lie to my face and deliberately expose me just to see whether I was making it up. That was fifteen years ago. I'm probably due for another one.
And I just told thirty-something people how to do it. Tomorrow I'll put it on Nextdoor, for a neighborhood of close to a hundred people.
...
I think I might stay indoors for a few days.
You have an off switch. An actual physical power button, located on some spot on your person. Maybe it's like Commander Data's, where it turns you off until you're turned back on; maybe it's just a "start your sleep cycle now" button. Nobody else you've talked to has one, though some people talk about how they drop right off to sleep if someone rubs their feet or their neck... it's just that thing you have, everybody's different.
Except you're expected to tell other people about it. Maybe your family is concerned a friend might hit it by accident. Or they think there must be other people who have one, and being open about it would help you find your tribe. Your friends urge you to talk about it to protect yourself, so that there are people who know what to watch for in case your date has nefarious plans.
So you get to tell new friends, co-workers, people you just met. "Hey, so you know, if you touch me on the back of the neck, I lose consciousness." "When I say that touching me on the inside of my left elbow is a turn-off, well..." "In my case, they call it a belly button for a reason." You can make it as lighthearted as you like, field the inevitable questions, but it boils down to one thing:
You are telling almost total strangers your biggest weakness.
And it usually goes fine. They act a little startled, then sort of nod and go "okay." But you never know what they're really thinking, and experience tells you not everyone will respect you. You got bullied in school every time someone found out. Even now, as an adult, you know somebody is going to use the knowledge against you in some way -- maybe they'll press the button because they're curious. Maybe they don't believe it's real. Maybe they want to do something nasty. Maybe they just think it would be hilarious. It wouldn't be the first time; you know someone's going to do it. Is it the person you talked to today? One of the handful you spoke to yesterday?
And every time, it's horribly disorienting. You lose time you'll never get back, and you won't know what happened. Did something bad happen? How would you find out? I mean, you can do anything to an unconscious person. What if next time, you just... don't wake up? It takes weeks for you to get your psychological bearings, to put it behind you. But you have to keep telling near-strangers about that button.
That is what I did today.
I handed out more than twenty letters describing, in precise detail, how someone can make my life a misery. I told all of my nearby neighbors about my Achilles heel. I don't know most of them. Some of them are quite pleasant; some of them have large fierce dogs and "No Trespassing" signs plastered on their fences. I gave them a gentle plea to please be kind to me, and my email address and phone number, and a Hershey's kiss if I left the letter on the porch.
And now I wait and see how many of these strangers will be kind.
Most will say nothing. I won't know whether the letter was even read, or understood, or whether they care. A couple might text me questions. And in a few days, maybe something good will happen; maybe the cleaning fumes which have been drifting down the street will go away. Maybe they won't.
But there is always the risk that someone will decide to be a deliberate jackhole and start throwing the stuff around just to mess with me. Just like there are people who put meat into supposedly vegan meals "just to see whether they'll notice", I've had someone lie to my face and deliberately expose me just to see whether I was making it up. That was fifteen years ago. I'm probably due for another one.
And I just told thirty-something people how to do it. Tomorrow I'll put it on Nextdoor, for a neighborhood of close to a hundred people.
...
I think I might stay indoors for a few days.