The Experiment

KNOCK!

I jumped out of my skin, startled by the loud bang. I hadn’t moved in hours and had been so absorbed in my work, that the jolt hurt my neck. After taking a moment to realize where the noise came from, the front door, I got up from my computer desk and went over to peer cautiously out the front window. Nothing. I didn’t see anyone there at all. Whatever crashed into my front door sounded like a loud singular blow. A collision maybe? I opened the door slowly, rather reluctantly, half expecting to find a dead crow lying there at the foot of the doorway, neck twisted and eyes bloody. As my eyes sank down diffidently, I was relieved to find there was no bloody bird. Just a box. A plain, cardboard, square, unmarked box.

Surprised, I reached down and lifted it. The package felt curiously empty, almost lighter than air. It was a wonder it could even have made such a clatter hitting the door. The bang must have come from the angle with which it made contact. Maybe the corner as it flew through the air at high speed. Postal workers sure had fun with the job sometimes.

As I turned the box over, I noticed that it wasn’t actually unmarked. Although it was also not labelled to my attention, nor did it include any return information.

One simple sentence, printed boldly in black, read: Do Not Open

My blood suddenly ran cold. Was it a bomb? Was it a test? Why me? Who would send this? My mind was racing. I should call the police, but they would surely open it, or scan it, or do what was clearly not meant to be done with it. Full circle, was it a bomb, a test, why me?

I looked around to see if anyone was watching, if I could spot anything suspicious that might shed some light on this peculiar delivery. When I saw nothing out of the ordinary, I half-heartedly brought the mysterious box into my home. Closed the door, and sat in the middle of my living room, staring at the box in my hands.

I had seen “do not open until Christmas”. I had probably even written that note a few times in my life. But “Do Not Open”…ever? Who says that? No, no one says that. If you get a box delivered to your door, that reads simply, “Do Not Open” you can really only do one thing: not open it.

I placed the box on my mantle and went to make a coffee. It was three in the afternoon, too late for coffee, but my mind was blown and I needed to focus. I’d be up all-night pondering anyways. Screw it, I made a pot.

I supposed, as I sat drinking coffee and looking at the cardboard centerpiece of my very existence, that this box in some way, represented humanity. It stared at me like I could only imagine Eve’s apple might have stared at her. I was glad I had no one here egging me on to actually open the box. My curiosity was eating away at my soul, but my fear was even greater. I was completely convinced no good could come of any direct disobedience.

What if I opened it? Something bad could happen. I could die. Maybe worse, maybe there would be lots of death. Yeah, I started getting super metaphysical.

What if I didn’t. Nothing would happen that would change my life from what it was before the box arrived. Surely there was no million-dollar prize waiting inside: “Congratulations you didn’t listen—way to go tiger—way to break the rules!”

I stayed up all night and tried to look at the box from every angle. If I turned it in, what would happen. If I called my brother? My sister? My folks? Every single “what if” became an analysis. Everyone I knew would handle it slightly different.

By morning I had decided that it was unquestionably a test. I also realized that frustrating as it might be for me personally to never know who sent the box or what was inside, I was now the keeper of the box. I had a huge responsibility, on top of not opening the box, to protect the box. I also deducted that I couldn’t talk about the box. Yeah, it was like Fight Club in my house. I was talking to myself and the first rule was not to talk about the box. I guess you could say, I was kind of losing my mind.

I tried hard to think of a place to keep it safe in the house, but quickly decided that when someone writes “Do Not Open” on a box, it’s human nature for some idiot to come along and open it. I also couldn’t concentrate on anything else. I realized I could do something else with the box. I could destroy it—without opening it. It wasn’t easy, and I was scared as hell that it was going to blow up. Still, I lit the fireplace and tossed the box into to fire, then watched through clenched teeth and squinted eyes for some catastrophic reaction. The box simply lit up and melted into the flames. Then I heard it.

KNOCK!

I was frantic, running on no sleep, little food and too much coffee I went to the door. Another box. Smaller in size, this one read: Open

The was a letter inside read:

Dear Earthling,

Congratulations. We have plans to build a new intergalactic highway to support many thousands to millions of light-years and bypass several interstellar counterparts.

Our committee, of 30-members representing all 150 species of intelligent life, had almost unanimously voted to obliviate Earth. The construction would use the Milky Way as it’s main travel course. Almost. Three members of the 30, fought hard to save Earth. Two had partial human genetics and one was 10% Amphibian Earthling. They argued there was another stretch of space that will impact no one and only slow the hyperbolic rate of travel by a fraction of a second. Time and speed are the most valuable commodities of all. Not reaching a full vote was tiresome, many felt they had wasted too much time already. We argued Earthlings are already destroying themselves so saving them was futile. The members of our committee with Earthling genetics disagreed. They pled their case desperately.

We decided upon this experiment and chose you at random. Against majority opinion you passed the experiment. Consequently, we will not destroy the planet. Well done, there is hope for your kind.

My blood suddenly ran cold.