The Box

The serpentine of hopefuls braced themselves against the November rain, clutching their boxes, bags, and packages, firmly focused on the ancient oak doors leading into St. Paul’s Chapel. Their endurance of the bitter cold and their gaze towards the old church was indeed a pilgrimage of hope, but their path was not to God; but to the team of valuers and antiques experts who had ascended on the small town of Ironbridge for their televised antiques roadshow. Sita looked up at her mother, who winced, head down away from the driving rain. Her hand firmly across her old leather handbag, guarding its contents. As she scanned the queue zigzagging along the ropes, it reminded her of people queueing for a theme park ride, but instead of excitement, there was a hint of desperate optimism hanging in the air. Sita clung tightly to her box, wrapped carefully in the muslim cloth her mum gave her. Mum agreed to let her come along and bring her box to the show as she was taking her grandma’s brooch to be valued. Sita had recently heard her parents talk in angry whispers about ‘mortgage payments’ and ‘arrears’, then quickly change the subject as she entered the room. Huddling into her mum’s coat, she daydreamed of the possibly life-changing moment ahead of them. The antiques man would gasp as he presented the contents of Sita’s box and announced that they would be rich. Everyone would cheer and Sita would bask in the happiness and relief on her mother’s face. They would rush home and break the good news to Dad and they would all go out to the fancy restaurant in town that they always admire but could never afford. 

The Sandip family had moved to number 12 Westville Terrace two Christmases ago. Bit by bit they worked hard to restore the small Victorian terrace into a modest, but cosy family home. The day came when they tackled the narrow strip of jungle, a blemish amongst the rose-lined gardens standing to attention behind the row of red brick houses. Twelve years strong, Sita donned her wellies and happily hacked, raked, and dug through the jungle, alongside Mum and Dad. It was a warm Spring day when it happened. Sita drove her trusty spade into the earth and hit what she thought was another chunk of broken concrete.

“Blast! Not another one!” 

“Hey, language, young lady!” her Dad shouted from the far side of the garden. 

Sita kneeled on the earth and sunk her hands into the hole to feel at the rock. To her surprise, the lump was some kind of box. Like a burrowing animal, she dug with her bare hands, soil flying left and right, until she pulled the box into the daylight. 

“Dad! Come and look at what I found!”

“Well, well! Treasure! Or somebody’s pet hamster maybe?” Dad laughed.

Sita didn’t have time for Dad’s sarcasm, she was already hot-footing it to the kitchen to wash the mud from the box. She fished the item out of the bubbles, lifting it high against the kitchen window. The box was made of wood but had strange lumps and symbols all over it. Sita shook the box and could hear something rattling inside. This made her mind fizz with excitement. 

With no keyhole, lock, or even hinges, Sita and her parents couldn’t open the box. Not one for being defeated, and much to Sita’s dismay, Dad took his power drill to the box. Sita’s angry cries were short-lived, as each time the drill touched the box, the power drained. Each time the drill was charged, the same happened again and again. Not a mark was left on the box, not a scratch.  Mum said Google didn’t know, so Sita should take the box to Mrs. Mackintosh, the history teacher at school. Mrs. Mackintosh was intrigued and said that it looked like a Victorian puzzle box, but had never seen anything like the symbols engraved on each side. Sita stashed the box in her bedroom where Dad and his power tools couldn’t find it. She then enjoyed the summer and forgot all about the ‘possibly a puzzle box’, hidden under her bed. Summer drifted into Autumn when posters started to appear in the local shops about the Antiques Road Show coming to town. Mum decided they could go together, on the condition that Sita wouldn’t show her up on TV. 

Sita felt like she would explode if she had to stare at the back of the tall man’s sickly beige coat in front for a second longer. Just then, a muffled wave of excitement flowed down the line as the large church doors creaked open. A lady wearing a microphone announced that they would be allowed into the foyer area to go through the necessary checks and paperwork. The queue started to move and thanks to their early morning start, Sita and her mum didn’t have to wait too long. Mum filled in a form and listened to the lady in charge. After fixing windswept hair and peeling off soggy coats, Sita and her mum were shown to the small wooden table at the far side of the church. Sita stared up at the camera next to the table, pointing directly at her. 

“Don’t worry, this won’t be live TV, it’s pre-recorded, so don’t be nervous, we can edit things out.” Sita turned towards the voice of the grey-haired man before them. His small round spectacles balanced on his nose, his purple tie pointing to a bulbous belly poking out of his jacket. He smiled as he introduced himself and in unison, all parties took a seat at the table. Mum showed him the brooch. After studying the shiny pearl held in a gold clasp, he announced that her treasured family heirloom was worth around £500. 

“Oh, wonderful,” Mum said with a smile. Sita could clearly see the disappointment on her mother’s face. 

Spectacles swiftly turned to Sita. “And I believe you have something to show me, young lady?” 

“Yes” Sita replied as she placed her box on the table and peeled off the muslim cover.

“Ah. What you have here is a Victorian puzzle box - but I don’t recognise the symbols,” he said.

He inspected the markings with a magnifying glass, Sita bit her lip to hold back the giggles as she saw the man’s enlarged eye peering down at the box. 

“Excuse me for one moment,” he said.

He shuffled off and returned with a lady in a flowery dress and a small bald man in a green corduroy suit. They inspected the box, making frowny faces and saying things like “how interesting” and “intriguing”. 

Finally, spectacles spoke. 

“Young lady. Your box has us stumped. It has all the earmarks of a classic Victorian puzzle box one might have gifted to a child, but those markings are very unusual.”

“There’s something in there.” Sita said. 

“It certainly sounds that way. But we cannot see a way in. It is very interesting. I would like to make a few calls, if you wouldn’t mind hanging around for a while?”

Mum agreed, and they were shown to the crew’s area with comfy chairs, posh coffee and chocolate biscuits. After what seemed like ages, another hiper lady with a microphone attached to her face came in.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. You have caused quite a stir with your box. Malcolm has made some calls and, with your permission, would like to have a specialist puzzle cracker take a look at it. This would mean you coming down to our next roadshow venue in London next week. All expenses paid, including hotel accommodation.”

Sita saw her mum’s weary face suddenly perk up and a smile emerged as she heard the ‘all expenses paid part’. 

“Yes, we can do that. She replied quickly.”

***

Sita could hardly contain herself as she and her mum entered the large exhibition hall a week later. She looked around the hall. This time there were several serpentines of hopefuls, slithering slowly towards the small tables of experts. The air buzzed with constant chatter echoing across the hall. Sita thought that this made St Paul’s Church seem very small now. Microphone lady spotted them and bustled them towards the far end of the hall, where a small, solitary table sat amongst a crowd of people. There was a circus of cameras, lights and wide eyed journalists dotted around the hall. The press had been told about the mystery puzzle box and dad had to keep answering calls from local journalists for the last week. Despite rambling about his ‘bloody drill’ the journalists didn’t get much out of him.

Sita recognised the spectacled man from last time as he approached them alongside a small group of people. 

“Hello again Mrs Sandip and Sita, thank you for coming, I hope your accommodation has been comfortable for you?.”

“Yes, thank you.” mum replied.

 “Good. This is Doctor Eva Hakimi from the University of Cambridge. She will be trying to solve your puzzle box today.” Spectacles turned to the woman standing next to him. Sita smiled at the tall, slim lady with black hair and large glasses. She wore a white flowy dress and held a brown leather satchel. Sita instantly liked this lady, she looked out of place among the suits like she had just arrived from a summer picnic. The lady stepped forward and shook mum’s hand, then turned to Sita. 

“Hi Sita. You must be the lucky girl with the interesting puzzle box?”

Sita beamed.

“Yes. I hope you can open it. I can’t wait to see what treasure is inside.”

“I will do my best.”

Microphone lady announced that the puzzle cracking special was about to begin and for everyone to take their seats and the audience to stay behind the ropes. There was a large crowd of people gathered to witness the opening of the box and journalists filming Eva at work.

Eva Hakimi relished the challenge of the puzzle box. She had felt her work at the University had grown a tad stale of late, despite the many colorful students she was lucky enough to teach. Having an overactive mind had always left Eva wanting more stimulation, and more challenges, she just felt like there was more out there for her to learn. An unquenchable thirst for information and hungry to understand everything. Chess champion at 8 years and with an IQ of over 162 by the age of 11, Eva became the youngest member of the elite IQ group; MENSA. She felt a refreshing tingle of excitement when Malcolm called her and explained about the puzzle box. ‘Would she like to have a go at solving the puzzle?’ It's like asking flowers if they would like to bloom.

Eva lifted the beautifully engraved box, feeling her way around the sides. All eyes were firmly fixed on her. Cameras aimed, lights bright, but all Eva could see was the box. Carefully running her fingers over the engraved markings and nodes carved on each side, making notes on her pad of paper beside her. The markings had vague similarities to several ancient languages and symbols but seemed to merge and mix them to form an intricate, mind-bending pattern. An hour or so passed by. The initial silence grew into a low murmur as the audience began to fidget and whisper amongst themselves. The microphone lady was poised to call break time when Eva looked up, placed down her pen, and smiled. This got the attention of the crowd once more, had she cracked it? Eva picked up the box and firmly moved two of the symbols to the left, while sliding two more underneath the box to the right, then carefully balanced the box on one corner and set it spinning as though she was spinning a coin. To her amazement the box did not fall, but instead, gathered momentum, spinning faster and faster, then a bright blue light began to emerge from the center of the box, escaping out of each symbol. This grew to a blinding flash of light flooding the entire hall. Eva shielded her face, then slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes. Everyone around her had frozen in motion. The audience, the crew, the mother, and daughter sat opposite her, now living statues staring right at her. Time seemed to have stopped for everyone except Eva. She shuddered as she scanned the motionless faces of the people around her. Each expression paused, not a breath, not a flicker, nothing.     

“Sita, Mrs Sandip, are you ok?” Eva waved her hand in front of their faces. No response. 

Eva jumped out of her skin as one of the film crew suddenly spoke. His voice sounded like the talking clock you used to call if you needed the time. 

“You have solved the puzzle we left on earth 12 million years ago and…”

Eva shot to her feet and ran for the door. The door was locked, no escape. She turned to face the eerie scene once more, her back pressed against the door. The irony of the bright green ‘EXIT’ sign hanging over her head. To her horror, the nearby old lady carrying a large carpet bag slowly turned her head towards Eva and spoke in the same monotonic tone. 

“Do not fear. We pose no threat to you. We are an ancient race who have watched over Earth for millions of your years.”

“What do you want with me?” Eva crouched to the floor, her heart racing, her legs weak. 

“This is one of three boxes we planted 12 million years ago before humans had fully evolved. We now bear witness to a greedy and selfish species, destroying its own habitat. You are chosen to save Earth from the slow destruction humans have inflicted upon it.”

“How can one person save the earth?”

“You will be the catalyst for change. You will be gifted with immortality.”

“I think I will pass, thank you.” 

Silence. 

The old lady turned her head back around and fell still again. Then in a split second, the whole room reanimated oblivious to the alien race who had hit pause. The only thing amiss was Eva, who had magically disappeared from her place at the table, about to open the mystery box and was still slumped on the floor next to the exit. The film crew and audience gasped. Eva wobbled back to the table, desperately trying to think of an explanation that won’t land her in a mental facility. 

“Sorry, I just stepped out to the ladies. Too much tea”

Eva looked around at the faces around her. Had they any inkling of what just happened? 

“Ok Eva, no problem, building the tension are we?!” Malcolm laughed, encouraging ripples of laughter through the bemused audience. 

Eva took her seat across from Sita and her mum. The poor girl looked as though she might burst with anticipation at any moment. The box could now twist open to reveal its contents. The tension grew as Eva lifted off the lid. After millions of years, the box was finally opened, to reveal - nothing. It was empty. Sita’s eyes welled up as her hopes of fortune for her family was lost.

“I’m so sorry Sita.” said Eva, touching Sita’s hand. 

As Eva touched Sita, she felt a small tingle as their skin touched, as though an electrical charge passed through to her. Sita snatched her hand away in surprise.

When Sita finally slept that night, she fell into a vivid dream. The ceiling of her room shone brightly and she witnessed a new era of technology for the future. Technology that would provide clean energy for generations to come. The next morning Sita woke and started to scribble equations and sketch plans. She suddenly had a head full of new information, a warm energy flowed around her body, and she felt different. She raced downstairs to show her mum and dad her drawings and notes. Jaws dropped, eyes widened and odd looks were exchanged between both parties. 

“This is going to make a huge difference to the world energy crisis in the future.”

Mum threw one of her concerned faces and said, “Are you feeling ok Sita? All this box business must be getting to you. It’s time to get back to normality now honey.” 

Sita ran over to them both and cuddled them both together, “Group hug!” she cried in excitement. The same small surge passed from Sita to her parents. They jumped back. 

“Whoah, static shock Sita!” cried her mother.

That evening, Sita’s parents experienced the same light on the ceiling and a vivid dream delivering problem-solving insight and information. Like Sita, they woke the next morning with a deeper understanding of the world, their place in it, and how to shape a better future.  And so it began. Every touch spread the surge, emanating from the UK, across continents until over time, it enveloped the world. Each person blessed with a higher intelligence and a calm appreciation for life on earth. 

Eva Hakimi, the brilliant mind who solved the puzzle that opened up the horizon of a better world. Despite her reluctance, Eva didn’t age a minute, instead, she became a world icon and an eternal catalyst in an ever-changing world. She saw friends and family age and fade, including the 11-year-old Sita, who bloomed into a strong woman and brilliant engineer working alongside Eva. Together, they pioneered the development of blue energy, a clean and infinite power source for the human race. Eva sat at the grave of Dr Sita Sandip, picturing the girl who once passed her a puzzle box, broken with disappointment as she realised the empty box was worthless.  

“Your empty box was worth everything to everyone in the end Sita”. said Eva.