How To Talk To Your Characters

Hudson - FINALLY Get To Introductions

By the way, I never got your name.

I nearly drop the bowl of soup on the floor when the Author's voice comes out of the blue. I recover quickly enough so that I only stumble a little on the way to my seat at the bench. In a room full of loud and noisy people that can go unnoticed, but a dropped bowl would have caught more attention.

Sorry, is this a bad time?

"I'm surrounded by a large number of people," I mutter under my breath. "I'd say this is a bad time."

Well, if that's the case, you don't have to talk to me out loud. I guess. I can still read your thoughts.

And that's not supposed to be unnerving?

It's not supposed to be anything. It just is. Just... don't refer to me in second-person in your thoughts. It's weird.

I'll say. Everything about this whole situation is weird.

Why, does the food taste bad?

No, the food is normal. The whole fact that you and I are speaking to each other, fifty-eight years apart, is what's weird. 

I guess. Probably weirder for you than it is for me. Back to the topic at hand.

I take another bite of the soup. It's a good thing that most of the people here are drunk or close to being so, otherwise I'd be juggling two conversations at once. We had a topic?

Yes. I mentioned that you never told me your name.

Why do I need to say my name? An author should already know it.

You're my co-author. Your input is needed.

I don't know the Author's name either.

I hear the Author sigh. You're substituting 'you' with 'the Author' and it's really obvious. And anyway, you don't have to title anything. I have a Word document open and it needs to have a file name. Preferably your name.

What do you mean 'word document'? All documents have words.

It's a computer program. Or an application, rather. Name?

If I give a name, I have to get one in return. That's my policy.

I can see how that'd be useful for a job like yours. You go first. I won't back out, promise.

Fine. Hudson Cox.

Haha, Cox.

I frown. There's nothing funny about that.

Nothing. You can call me Reach.

Reach? As in the verb? That's not a name.

Well, you're right, it's not my name. It is a snippet from a username I have, though.

And what would that be?

ReachForMyHand.

I snort. How poetic.

"What, you think that's funny?" I hand slams down on the table, almost right into my food, accompanying the loud voice that's suddenly started yelling at me. "You want to say what you find funny?"

I glance up at the man glaring at me. Even without looking at his glazed eyes and small pupils, I can tell he's had a few drinks too many. Dealing with a drunk really hadn't been in my plans for tonight, but there's not much I can do now.

"What're you, mute?" The man's red face comes closer to mine as he slams his second hand on the table. "Answer me!"

"Do you have anyone here with you?" I ask, trying to keep my voice normal. A disinterested voice might just get the man riled up even more, but if he has friends around, I can pass him off to them.

"I'sh not 'bout that!"

"You're slurring. Maybe you should sit down."

"Are you makin' fun nov a me?"

I blink to arrange ny thoughts. Over a misunderstanding, this drink thinks I was laughing at him. He wants a fight. I don't want a fight, I want this to be done with.

The quickest way to deal with the problem when I can't eradicate it is to appease it. In this case, that means fighting him.

I step out from the bench and stand up. The drunk follows me, his movements sluggish and unfocused. This won't be a fair fight in the slightest, but that's not an issue for me.

Of course the other man makes the first move. He takes a wide swing that misses me by a decent amount of space. I grab his arm as it passes, and in a matter of seconds I have him pinned face-down on the table, arms behind his back.

"Sorry about the mess." I pick up my overturned bowl and place it on the innkeeper's counter. "I'll do extra for it."

"No, not all at!" The innkeeper looks pale and nervous. "No need! What you're doing is more than enough!"

I nod at him and turn to leave the room. I get a few sneers on the way, but no one interrupts me.

Wow. People really are scared of you, aren't they?

My feet clud on the wooden stairs. My job has a bad rep.

I can imagine. What if there were Omegas in there?

I'll sleep with one eye open if that's what you're worried about. But I wouldn't worry about Omegas in the middle of the night.

Why, do they all clock out at midnight or something?

No. I pull the key the innkeeper had given me earlier out of my pocket and use it to unlock the door to my room for the next few weeks. I fortified my room.

With what, nets and flying poison darts?

Nothing that old. Some electronically projected screens can do the job just as well, with the proper settings.

Oh, so they actually have those now.

I notice that the Author doesn't sound too enthusiastic about that as I walk into the room, shutting the door firmly behind me and locking it.

No no, it's just that I've seen those plenty of times before just not in my present day. I've mostly seen them used against monsters and terrorists.

I crouch my the small metal box that controls the barrier levels. "Omegas are a far cry from monsters, but they do have organized terrorist groups. Not many more than humans."

That reminds me, you said where I live doesn't exist anymore. Why is that?

"There was a war almost forty years ago."

Really?

The Author sounds way too excited.

Sorry, I don't mean to be insensitive. Was it a big war?

"World War Three? I would think so."

Oh. I can imagine how places got destroyed now. Care to tell?

"Not today." I adjust the dial that controls the power transfer to the main barrier.

Why not?

"I need to sleep. I have work tomorrow."

The Author makes a sound similar to the hum of electricity in the room. Sleep is for the weak.

"Sleep is for people who need it." I stand up and switch off the light near the door. "We don't have your type of luxury in our time."

Fair enough. Don't want you falling asleep while sawing away at a tree. But I expect a full history lesson of the war next time we meet up.

Hopefully that won't be for a while.

That hurt emotionally. I'm hurt.

"Go away."