The Birthday Box

Vyra was an ordinary girl, living in what she thought to be an ordinary world. But soon, things would change for Vyra. One partly cloudy morning, she woke up to the incessant beeping of her alarm clock. Knocking her water bottle and vitamins askew her desk, her hand finally found the snooze button. With a large stretch, she opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling above her bed.

“Happy birthday to me.”

It was Vyra’s 18th birthday. This has always been a big birthday in America, but even more so in the last decades. After the coronavirus pandemic and all the protests of that time, the American public demanded change. Vyra never paid enough attention in school to know all the details, but the basics were that the government was reorganized, and the economy crashed.

Eventually, the riots and protests quieted, and the dust settled. What was left was chaos and ruin. One of the first steps of the “New America” was to rebuild the economy. This new government was intent on providing more for its citizens. This meant helping give people a head start to their career.

Thus, the birthday box tradition was born.

On one’s 18th birthday, a box would be delivered to their doorstep. Inside the box were materials to help kick start the individual’s career. What was in the box varied from person to person. It wasn’t just a wad of cash (as if people dealt with things so common as paper money anymore) or an amount of credit. They were physical tools and guides to direct the new adult.

People were always so indecisive and unclear about what they wanted, so the government decided to help. They took those career placement or career aptitude tests and made them more specific and personalized. Sometime in everyone’s 17th year, they would take one of these tests. What arrived in their birthday box was determined from their results of this test.

Of course, everyone had enough agency and free will to choose a different path than the one laid out for them, but it was not a wise decision. If one were to seek a different course, they would have to fund it all their own. In a world with no more billionaires, that amount of wealth was not held by one person or family.

Thus, what was in one’s birthday box was much anticipated. Some young people complained about having to lay the foundation of the rest of their lives so young, but that principle was unchanged from the past. Now, that path was laid free of charge to the individual and was more specific to the skills of the person.

Nonetheless, Vyra was nervous. She had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. She enjoyed multiple activities and was generally successful in skills she attempted throughout her schooling, but she didn’t have one obvious strong suit like others her age.

When Quentin down the street had opened his box to find culinary books, a specialized apron, and an expensive knife set, and admission to a prestigious culinary school, no one was surprised. He had developed a love of cooking at a very young age. No one even batted an eye when Serenity Coller opened her box to find classical sheet music and a receipt for a baby grand piano. There was no doubt she would be a majorly successful pianist.

For months, Vyra had thought about what would show up in her box. She had asked her family, friends, and teachers what they thought would come and every answer was different. Even her aptitude test hadn’t resulted in one clear answer.

What if Vyra ended up with one of the jobs no one wanted? What if she got assigned to a career where they put all the people with no skills? Maybe she would get assigned to sort trash in a landfill. Maybe she’d have to clean up dog poop in a park. Perhaps she would end up somewhere beyond her worst nightmare.

Vyra lay in bed, petrified. She only got up when her mom pulled her out of bed. Normally, this would be a day of excitement and celebration, but Vyra could think of nothing to celebrate. Making her way down the hall, Vyra looked around the kitchen for any sign of her package.

“I haven’t gotten your box yet, honey,” her mom called while finishing putting too much effort into a plate of waffles. “I wanted you to be able to get it when you want,” she smiled as she set down the waffles layered with fresh fruit, syrup, and whipped cream in front of Vyra.

Just as the contents of each box were different, so too were the ways in how the boxes were received and opened. The boxes supposedly arrived at 12:01am on the morning of the birthday, but as curfew was 11pm, most people never checked to see the truth of this. Some people threw the door open as soon as they hopped out of bed and ripped the box open while still in their pajamas. Others waited to open the box until they were surrounded by friends and family at a big party that night.

The size of the box was another variable. This sometimes gave a clue as to what was in the box. Once, a box contained a fully constructed basketball hoop when it came to a local athlete who was almost 7 feet tall. But no matter how big or small the box was, it was always beautifully, carefully, intricately wrapped. The wrapping paper used must have been made in some secret factory because you couldn’t find any of this quality in any store. One reason people got so excited was they couldn’t wait to see how beautiful their birthday box was. It was often thought the beauty of the box reflected the future beauty and success of one’s career.

Vyra was in no rush to the end of her childhood, so she took her time getting ready. Eventually, her mom urged her to get the box off the porch and at least make sure it had arrived. By the end of the birthday, it was mandatory that they confirmed they had received the box.

Finally, Vyra couldn’t procrastinate any longer. The future was here, and she could no longer run away. With a big breath, she unlocked the front door and whipped it open. She looked down and there, on the porch, was a box. It looked like a decent sized box. It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t large either. But there was something peculiar about it. It wasn’t wrapped.

It was wrapped in the sense that there was brown paper wrapped around the box, but that was it. She assumed it was her birthday box; there were no trademarks or symbols from any shipping companies on the box. But if this was her birthday box, why was it not beautifully wrapped?

As Vyra picked up the box and carried it to the kitchen, her mind started racing. What did this mean? Was that rumor true that the appearance of your box gave clue to the brightness of your future? If so, what was contained in this box that the outward appearance was so bland and dreary?

She didn’t want to open it. She couldn’t open it. She didn’t have the strength to face the future this box held for her. Before her mom could ask her about the box, she yanked her car keys off their hook, grabbed her shoes by the door, and raced out to her car. Without thinking, she turned the car on and pulled away from the curb as fast as she could. She didn’t know where she was going but she knew she had to get away. While driving away from her suburb, she glanced over to her passenger seat and was surprised to see her birthday box sitting in there. In all the adrenaline, she had unintentionally brought the box with her.

She decided to forget it for a moment. She changed the radio station and began to sing along as she mindlessly drove to wherever her car took her.

After some time, she pulled into a parking lot. She had driven into a nearby canyon. She got out and looked over the beautiful landscape. It was secluded, a hidden escape from the chaotic pressures of daily life. She sat on a ledge, looking over the trees below, and sat her box next to her.

“Is that your birthday box?”

She was so surprised, Vyra nearly tumbled into the canyon.

“Sorry! I thought you heard me.”

After recovering herself, Vyra turned to look at her near manslaughterer. It was Silas, a guy she had gone to school with for years but wasn’t sure she had ever had a conversation with him.

“No, sorry, I guess I was lost in thought.”

“Mind if I sit?” Silas asked pointing to a spot on the ledge near Vyra.

“Go ahead.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. There was no pressure to talk as they breathed in the cool breeze.

“I don’t see many people bringing their birthday boxes out here,” Silas remarked.

“Yeah,” Vyra started. “I guess I was just nervous.”

“Have you opened it yet?”

“No.”

Vyra expected him to ask why she hadn’t opened it yet and push her to unfold its secrets, but he didn’t.

“Have you gotten your box yet?” Vyra asked.

“No, my birthday’s not for a couple more months. I could leave if you wanted to open your box here in private,” he offered.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Vyra insisted. She looked over at the box but didn’t dare even touch it.

“You know,” Silas began. “You can open your box when you want, of course. But what will be different in five minutes than right now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what’s in that box will change the course of your life. No matter what’s in that box, it will affect the rest of your life. I get that that’s intimidating and scary. But if it’s going to affect the direction of your future, what do you get from waiting another five minutes to open it?”

Vyra took a moment to really think about her answer. “I guess I’m just hoping to preserve some of my childhood. I mean, this box will tell me what my career will be. That’s a pretty grown-up thing. I’m not sure I’m ready to grow up yet.”

“I guess,” Silas chuckled.

“What?”

“I don’t think people understand what it means to grow up.”

“How so?”

“Well, as kids, we think of adults as these all-knowing, all-powerful beings. Then you get there, and you realize adults don’t know that much more than they did as kids. Everyone is just trying to figure it out. Being an adult or “growing up” doesn’t mean that you abandon childhood interests or constantly focus on work. It’s good to still have hobbies and spend time relaxing—whatever that means to you.”

“I guess. I bet you’ll be a great adult. You seem like you’ve got it all together.”

“I think you’re the only one who would say that.”

“No, really. I mean, you’re quiet, but you’re so mature! I doubt you’ll have a problem flawlessly transitioning to adulthood,” Vyra chuckled.

Silas smiled, but it was a sad smile. “I suppose it’s easier to grow up when you have to.”

Vyra noticed the tone shift. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Silas cut her off. “I guess being sick a lot kind of forces you to grow up. Deal with stuff other kids don’t have to. Makes it hard to make friends.”

“Well, it’s their loss.”

Silas smiled at Vyra. “So,” he suddenly shifted, “are you going to open the box or not?”

Vyra looked at the box. She took a big breath and moved the box to her lap. “Do you think I should be concerned with this wrapping?” she asked Silas.

He took in the suspicious, seemingly hastily wrapped brown paper covering the box. “It’s not the nicest thing I’ve ever seen, but come on, I’m sure the inside will make up for it.”

Vyra wasn’t so sure, but she ripped off the ugly brown paper. She undid the flaps of the box and slowly lifted up the lid. Inside, there were only two things. She looked back in the paper to see if something was in there, she looked all around, but inside of her birthday box was simply a manual and a business card. The manual was titled “Where Do You Fit into Your Government?” The cover looked like an extremely old middle school textbook with poor quality images of children doing stock photo poses. The business card had a name: Molly Newman, and a phone number. On the back was handwritten, “You’re a special one. We think you could help us. Give me a call.”

Vyra showed the materials to Silas. He seemed a bit confused but not very disturbed. Vyra, on the other hand, was dumbfounded. “What the heck is this?” she shouted as she jumped up and started pacing.

“It’s your box,” Silas so kindly pointed out.

“I know it’s my box, genius. What is this? A manual? A business card? ‘We think you could help us?’ What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You’re probably supposed to call the number.”

Vyra did not appreciate the observation. “This isn’t what I was supposed to get!”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, but not this!”

“Is that so bad? Life would be boring if nothing unexpected ever happened.”

“Yeah, but it’d probably be a lot easier.”

“Maybe, but where’s the fun in that?”

Vyra glared at Silas.

“Come on,” Silas consoled. “Just call the number and see what the lady wants. It’s not like you have to make any major life decisions right now. You just opened your box. That’s all for right now.”

Vyra took a deep breath and sat back down as Silas picked up the business card. “You’re a special one,” he read. “I wonder what that means?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Vyra loudly scoffed.

“What?”

“This feels like one of those copy and paste YA science fiction series where they live in a dystopian society, but the protagonist is “special” and must pursue a mission to help override the evil government and restore justice for all!” Vyra proclaimed in a mocking speech.

“That could be it…” Silas admitted, “but probably not.”

“Then what is it? What does it mean?”

“I think that’s up to you.”

“Are you always so cryptic?”

“Hey, I’m just saying that you don’t have to be special if you don’t want to be. You could call Molly and get put in some desk jockey, bureaucratic job and live your life day to day working a constant 9 to 5.”

“Or. . . “

“Or, you could choose to do something extraordinary. You are being given a rare opportunity of having a huge hand in what you do with the rest of your life. Sure, people get really mad at the government, but why is that? The government holds all the power. With power comes authority. As much as people at the bottom want a change, in order to pull any weight against the man at the top of the pyramid, they need a huge rallying force. If you want to help people be better matched with careers, go into that field and figure out how to help. If you care about making healthcare available to all, look into that. You get to choose the direction you go in here. It’s your choice of whether you follow the mundane path that everyone else takes, or if you choose to be special and make a difference where you can.”

“So, I’m not going to be the hero slash leader of a rebellion?”

“Probably not. Those things typically don’t happen in reality. But, you can be a force for good. Each person has power inside of them. The key is to get to a place where you can use that power to accomplish something for the betterment of humanity. I think this is your opportunity to find that place.”

“You’re really smart, you know that?” Vyra delivered with a joking nudge.

“Thank you,” Silas smiled. “But seriously, think about it. I think you’re capable of truly amazing things.”

Vyra looked into the eyes of some kid she saw every day for years but had never really noticed. If she hadn’t taken any stock in him, but he had all this faith in her, what else had she missed? “I’m really glad we had this talk, Silas.”

“Me too.” Silas stood up and offered his hand to Vyra. “Sometimes the greatest connections are formed with the most unexpected people.”

“You’re like a walking poem, aren’t you?” Vyra laughed as she stooped to pick up her box.

“Only sometimes. Again, you get to choose what effect you have on the world around me. I suppose my effect is speaking cryptically.”

“I think you mean beautifully poetic.”

The breeze continued to rustle through the trees as Silas and Vyra, once strangers, now confidantes, made their way back to their lives. Though they went back to their same lives, they were changed. Their footprints had been left on the canyon dirt. Vyra had new direction of what impact to have on her world. Silas had finally been seen.

The unexpected things are what make life so vivid and memorable. Sometimes events we expect come in unusual shapes, sizes, and forms. Even the memories we hold of individuals can be changed with one conversation.

Vyra had no way of knowing when she woke up that morning that she would be forever changed that day when her birthday box came in brown paper, and she had a soulful realization with a man she had never stopped to think about.