The Good, The Bad, and The Gray Matter

You walk into a room. There are four walls each with a chair in the center of the wall. Each chair has a person sitting in it.

The first wall to your left is painted blue like the ocean and the person is a man of about fifty years. He is wearing a simple suit of brown corduroy, has a well-kept beard, and has a hard-cover book in his hands.

The second wall in front of you is painted every color of the rainbow and the person is a man of about thirty years. He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt with the logo of some trendy bar on the front. He is reclining in the chair; seems laid-back and honest.

The third wall to your right is made of steel, almost like an armoured vehicle. The person is a man in his thirties wearing a button up shirt and pressed slacks. His hair is cut short and he sits rigidly in his chair with a manila envelope across his lap.

The fourth and final wall behind you is made of what seems like thick glass; but you cannot see through it. The person in the chair is a woman of about twenty-five. She is moderately attractive, confidant, and expressive. She wears a summer dress and sandals and holds a pen in her right hand.

As you look around the room at the four distinct areas, you find yourself drawn to each one. Meanwhile the woman is talking gingerly with the other three men. The man in front of the blue wall is talking with the man in front of the steel wall. The man in front of the rainbow wall will only talk to the woman across from him. All four of them are talking at you also. The noise sounds similar to that of an audience in a theater before the show begins--low rumbling voices, distant but noticeable. Every now and then one of the people sitting in the chairs succeeds in drowning out the other three.

And you have no chair.