Box
/Box
by Forrest Brown, English Fellow
You walk into a small room. There are no windows; the walls are black. There is a small wooden table with two chairs, one on each side. You sit down.
A few moments later a doctor comes in. The doctor is wearing a white lab coat and has glasses. The doctor sits down, looks at you, then writes something on a clipboard. Neither of you say anything yet.
Finally the doctor says, “Do you have any questions?” The doctor does not look up.
“Yes,” you say. “What exactly happens in here?”
“This is where we perform the experiment.”
“What is the experiment?”
“We put a box on the table.”
“What kind of box?”
“Any kind of box.”
“Give me some examples.”
“Pizza box. Shoe box. Packing box. Computer box. Cereal box. Television box. Matchbox. Wine box.”
“I get the idea. Where do you get the boxes?”
“Sometimes one of us will bring one from home, but usually we just grab something from the dumpster out back.”
“Who do you perform the experiment on?”
“Everybody. Anybody.”
“Men and women?”
“Yes. And children.”
“Children? Is that ethical?”
The doctor shrugs but doesn’t answer. The doctor is still looking at the clipboard.
“They all volunteer?”
“We don’t force anyone to come in here.”
“How many subjects have you had?”
“We don’t keep track of that.”
“So you just put the box on the table?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happens?”
“It varies. The experimental group and control group are different.”
“What happens with the control group?”
“We leave.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“What happens?”
“They usually sit for some time. After ten or twenty minutes most will pick up the box and look inside, but sometimes they just sit.”
“When do you let them leave?”
“Whenever they decide to go. We don’t stop them.”
“But you don’t tell them it’s over?”
“No.”
“How long does it take for them to leave?”
“It varies. Some leave after just a few moments, most last between 15 and 45 minutes. A notable percentage stay for more than an hour.”
“What’s the longest anyone has stayed?”
“37 hours, 12 minutes, and 46 seconds.”
You sit for a moment and think. The doctor is still looking at the notepad.
“So that’s the control group. What happens for the test group?”
“We tell them something before we leave the room.”
“What do you tell them?”
“That looking in the box will make them unhappy.”
“That’s it?”
“Word for word. We follow a script.”
“So then what happens?”
“They usually look inside the box.”
You think for a moment.
“How many don’t look?”
“About one in every five subjects.”
“And what happens to them?”
“They leave. Usually right away.”
“Do you follow up with them?”
“We follow up with all our subjects.”
“What does that look like?”
“We ask how happy they are on a scale of one to ten.”
“Is there any difference between the subjects who look and the ones that don’t?”
“None that we’ve measured.”
You sit for a moment. The doctor is still writing on the notepad. You’re unsure how to proceed.
“So what happens to the ones that look in the box?”
“It varies.”
“What do you mean, it varies?”
“There are sometimes effects. Sometimes the effects take time to be noticeable.”
“What effects?”
“That varies too.”
“Give me some examples.”
“Some of the more common effects only take place once they leave the room. Many subjects get bitten by mosquitoes. Or spiders. Sometimes they just see a lot of spiders. On the sidewalk. In their living rooms and bedrooms. In the shower. That’s actually very common.”
“Any illness?”
“Headaches, runny noses, toothaches, fevers. Less common is the flu. Very rarely something more serious than that. Some stub their toe on the table when they get up to leave.”
“What about in the room? Does anything ever happen in the room?”
“Yes. Sometimes they find something in the box.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Mostly household objects. Toothbrushes. Toilet paper. Staplers. Spatulas. Someone found a full set of wineglasses and a bottle of Merlot.”
“Have you noticed any patterns?”
“That’s not why we’re here.”
You think for a moment.
“Give me some more examples.”
“Cell phone chargers. Reading glasses. Pillowcases. Bleach. Hairbrushes. Shower curtains. Matches.”
“In a matchbox?”
“No. A cereal box.”
“Keep going.”
“Flashlights. Batteries. Cast-iron pots. Uncooked spaghetti. Marshmallows. Playing cards. Pencils. A bottle of extra-virgin olive oil. Condoms. Paperback books. TV remotes. Legos. Paper airplanes.”
“Give me some interesting examples.”
“Some people find money. Usually small change but occasionally large bills. One boy found two thousand dollars in twenties.”
“Any weapons?”
“A man once pulled out a handgun.”
“What happened?”
“He just left it on the table. It wasn’t loaded.”
“Anything else?”
The doctor thinks for a moment, still looking down at the notepad. You’re tapping your finger on the side of your chair.
“We see a lot of free gym memberships.”
You pause. The doctor is writing something down.
“Are there any other effects?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“We get some extreme cases. Physically speaking.”
“What do you mean?”
“There have been a few subjects who gained weight.”
“How much weight?”
“It varies. Usually just a few pounds.”
“What’s the most you’ve seen?”
“Two hundred.”
“How did he respond?”
“He could barely stand. We had to find him a wheelchair, but he rolled himself out.”
“I mean emotionally.”
“Nothing notable.”
“What else?”
“Some people get older.”
“Don’t they all?”
The doctor doesn’t laugh.
“Significantly older.”
“How much?”
“It varies. Hard to quantify.”
“What does it look like?”
“Hair falls out. Spines collapse on themselves. Skin sags, muscles shrink. It varies.”
“I’m having trouble imagining that.”
“An intern said it was like watching wax in the sun.”
You sit up a little straighter. You put your hands on your knees.
“Anything else like that?”
“One man seemed to get younger.”
“How much younger?”
“He was 85. He looked like a teenager.”
“What happened to him?”
“We never actually found him again. He’s the one who found the handgun.”
“What’s the most extreme effect you’ve seen?”
The doctor pauses. The doctor sighs and writes something down.
Then the doctor looks up from the notes and looks into your eyes for the first time.
The doctor looks tired.
“One woman found a mirror. She looked at it for a while, then put it on the table. She sat there for hours. She didn’t move at all. Finally she reached into her mouth. First she put in her fingers. Then her whole fist. She kept pushing in her arm until it was past her wrist. Then her forearm. Eventually her arm was in her mouth up to her elbow. She didn’t change her facial expression the whole time.
After a few moments she took it out. Slowly. It was covered in something dark-blue—like a jelly. When her hand came out she was holding her tongue. She kept pulling and her tongue kept coming out. She was pulling hand over hand. Her tongue piled up on the floor like a garden hose. It kept coming out. We timed her. She was pulling out her own tongue for more than eight minutes. There must have been a hundred yards of it. It was all covered in blue jelly.
After that she put her hands on her forehead and pushed up the skin so it was smooth. She slid her hands back over her scalp. Her hair just came off. She kept sliding her hands back until she was holding the back of her neck and all her hair was gone. Her scalp was smooth all the way back.”
The doctor is still looking at you, but stops talking. You stare back.
“Keep going.”
“She reached back into her mouth and pulled out a tooth. It just popped out. She tossed it at the wall. Then she did it again. One by one she pulled out all her teeth and threw them at the wall. The floor was covered in teeth.
Then she took off her clothes. First her sweater, then her shirt, her pants, her bra, her underwear. She dropped them on top of her tongue. It looked like laundry pile. She was standing in the room naked.”
The doctor stops talking.
“Then what?”
“Then she crawled into the box. Headfirst. We watched her crawl in and disappear. Her head. Then her arms. Her chest. Her hips. Her ass. Her legs. At the end we could only see one foot. Then that was gone too.”
After a moment the doctor looks back at the clipboard and starts writing.
“Keep going.”
“That’s it.”
You don’t understand.
“What happened to her?”
The doctor shrugs.
“Was she alive?”
The doctor doesn’t respond.
You’re staring at the walls. They’re a deep black. You feel like you could walk through them. Or into them.
“Have you ever performed the test on yourself?”
“That wouldn’t be ethical.”
You don’t respond. Nothing happens. You’re looking at the table now. It’s a wooden table, and you can see the ring-lines of the wood in the surface. You follow one line from one end of the table to the other. Then you look at the next line. You look at every inch of every line on the table.
“A radio.”
You’re confused.
“What?”
“Someone found a radio. Playing music.”
“What was it playing?”
The doctor pauses.
“I am the Walrus.”
The doctor gets up.
The doctor puts a box on the table.
Then the doctor leaves and shuts the door.
You look at the box.