THE BOX

Elements

Airless

THE BOX

The brown paper package arrived on my doorstep a week ago. There had been a loud hammering on our reinforced metal door followed by loud barking from our dog, Fluffyroll.

After unlocking the 12 heavy duty locks, I cautiously peered out, into the swirling smog after checking my spy hole. I did not see a living soul. There it was, lying on my blackened doorstep. THE BOX.

I viewed it through the mask that was attached to the breathing pack strapped to my back. My mind calculated that it was two hands long, two hands deep, and one whole foot wide. It could have been a finger knuckle shorter or deeper and possibly a little toe wider, but the steam that issued from my laboured breathing fogged the plastic screen, making my vision somewhat clouded.

I was intrigued, but the instructions on the outside of the brown paper wrapping stated categorically, that under no circumstances should it be opened. Of course, I had to adhere to the rules as severe penalties were imposed if any were broken, not that there was anyone left to police them. A government stamp on the front that told me some high-ranking official had authorised this delivery and as I was one of the officials myself, its contents must have been especially important. In fact, I knew the contents were consequential as there was a footnote underneath the stamp that read, ‘This is the most unique commodity on Earth’.

During the course of the last few days, I was severely tempted to break the laws. I'd sniffed it; shook it; tried to shine a strong light through it; weighed it (it was slightly heavier than a cardboard box would be) - all to no avail. I had no idea what it could be. There was no follow-up to the delivery. No further message came. It was starting to drive me mad. I could not contact the head office as all forms of communication had been destroyed weeks before, and then the murk descended, making it impossible to negotiate any surviving roads and paths.

Ours was the only house on our street left standing.

On the morning of the drop, I'd tapped my partner on her oxygen tank to get her attention and between us, we tried to figure out what on earth had been sent in that anonymous box.

Routinely we spoke little these days due to the breathing problems and the fact that our words were muffled by the polymethyl methacrylate covering across our faces. The seals around them also made us gasp for breath whenever we tried to converse, so we kept or chats to a minimum.

Liquid food and drinks had to be fed through a tube which had to be carefully inserted through a leak-free gap. Not that there was much to choose from. We had stocked up when conditions outside made it almost impossible to travel to the mega markets. The only mode of travel was our feet. Fuel for vehicles had long dried up, so deliveries to shopping cities ground to a halt and our private cars ceased to be. No garages left, no mechanics left, no fuel left. Such was life. Our only alternative was to get as much as you can as soon as you can. The self-sufficient folk were no more as their crops in their allotments and gardens had shrivelled into pathetic charred stumps. Soil had vanished underneath mountains of plastic, cans and glass and the noxious air did the rest. Rivers had dried up. Sea life had died off, choking in water that was polluted with tons and tons of rubbish.

I was one of the lucky ones due to my high-ranking position in government and had bribed my way past imposed restrictions that I had helped to instigate, so any food rationing was re-directed my way. My crony ministerial friends who owned massive warehouses, c/o government bribes and illegal funding, made sure much of the food that was supposed to go to the needy ended up in my recently built warehouse to the rear of our home, for returning favours of course.

But, it could not last forever, and it didn’t. We had survived longer than most people. Our suburban house remained largely untouched but we had to turn it into a mini fortress, thus the reinforced metal door and laser guns within easy reach. Our liquid food stocks were gradually eroding and were now down to about a tenth of the original area with empty shelves on either side of the aisles.

At least the box provided us with a well-deserved distraction. My wife suggested the contents might be some sort of food replacement. I thought it might be some reading matter for my eyes only. The problem there was the box felt exceptionally light. It did not rattle when shaken. There was no discernible smell, so perfume or flowers were crossed off our content list. I also kept my eye out for some sort of follow-up information to land on the doorstep. If only the wi-fi signals were available for our smartphones and now redundant computers.

About 7 frustrating days in we took the pet mask off our thoroughbred Shihtzoodle so she could have a good sniff and maybe give us a clue. The poor thing has suffered terribly lately as normally she used to look forward to a never-ending food source, but the circumstances had imposed an unwanted slimming regime as the dog food was extremely low. The suffering hound was also having to drag the mobile ventilator around the house. The ventilator itself was housed in a little barrow which was tie strapped to a towing harness on her back. She hated us harnessing the equipment over her face and back and she constantly felt like she was being chased by an aluminium structure on wheels. Not that she could run at any speed. That can’t be much fun when all you want to do is stuff your face with Chomp (her favourite food) and chew my favourite slippers (her second favourite food).

She had become quite lethargic of late with the restrictions and doggy treat shortages, so this brief interlude would be a welcome diversion. As she sniffed, her tail started wagging furiously, almost cracking like a whip, and a spark of extra light flashed into her otherwise listless eyes. That excited my wife and me. We momentarily felt a tinge of sexual pleasure. It soon passed as we could not be bothered. The breathing apparatus did not endure itself to near-naked frolics as it seemed to get in the way of everything and the resulting heavy breathing was nothing to do with the sex act but more to do with the oxygen mask and tanks.

The oxygen used in the tanks came from a large storage container in the corner of our warehouse but invariably it smelt stale with the tangy aroma of mouldy fruit and silage. Luckily, the oxygen was under high pressure and theoretically could last a couple more years before needing to be replaced. The food, well that’s another hurdle that we will have to jump when the fences block our way.

The main hurdle was the pandemic that enveloped the whole world. It was a thousand times worse than the other ‘big one’ of 2020.

The microbes that destroyed millions were airborne, thus the masks and oxygen tanks (for those who could afford it). Alongside this catastrophe was irreversible global warming that teamed up with the pollution of the atmosphere. Earth’s living inhabitants had no chance, unless you were from the idle rich or linked to the powers that be. Life was a bit shit on the beautiful planet. We certainly brought it home.

But back to the box.

We were on tenterhooks, puzzling as to the contents of the mysterious parcel, and after seeing our dog’s amazing reaction, my wife pleaded for me to open it. Well, she told me to bloody well open it otherwise I would get a rare old tongue lashing followed by a powerful clip around my ear. As she is a formidable force I succumbed to her forceful wishes and with trembling hands, slowly began to unwrap the covering brown paper. Beneath the paper was the cardboard box inviting me to pull back the first two glued down strips. Butting up to the rear surface of the cardboard was another close-fitting, sealed thermotainer. It had a handwritten note in between the two planes. The note read as follows...

‘The contents of this have been gathered from the last place on our planet that had living plant life, insects and small mammals which managed to survive the conflagration. Guard it with your life. It is….’.

We’d forgotten about removing the dog’s mask and tank. Before I could get to read what the contents were, our stupid Fluffyroll barged her sensitive nose through my hands and bit not only through the message, but also the inner container. There was an ominous hissing sound and for an instant, our heads reeled in disbelief. Fluffyroll was in ecstasy, sniffing and rubbing her face into the box while making a satisfying growl. And what was in the box – nothing. I frantically grabbed the crunched message and attempted to flatten it out to see what on earth the last couple of words were. Through the doggy drool I managed to read them. They were, ‘FRESH AIR’.

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