Samuel and The Cube.

“Just me and the box now” Samuel stared down at the small metal cube no bigger than the size of his palm. Strange Gaelic-esque markings scratched across the block’s surface, engravings he prematurely deemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things. The only evidence of light in his room was that of the crisp autumn sun peeking through creases in the blinds. It almost felt symbolic, like those blinds represented his life up until this very moment, and he was about to pry them open to welcome the sun. The scratch of a chair being dragged from its comfortable position under his pure-oak desk felt as reckless as his body language. He sat himself down, pellets of sweat leaking down his forehead and gracing his cheeks like springtime rain, “what are you?” remained the only thought consuming his frantic mind. He stared at the strange cube for what felt like an eternity; it stared back.

“W-well do something, don’t sit here and tell me that old man was a fraud,” his voice cracked with desperation, every syllable falling from his mouth in an anxious haze. The box watched him, steadfast in its conviction to seemingly shatter his spirit. Samuel’s eyes widened, his shaky open palms morphing into airtight fists; this quaint, 5’2 man now seemingly harboured the presence of a long-forgotten Viking. He raised his arms above his head and slammed both fists onto the desk with a thunderous *DOOF* 

“ANSWER ME!”  he cried out, his tone evolving from desperation to blind rage. 

The box stared at him, mocking his desperation with devastating silence. Burying his head into his hands, he began to weep. 

“Am I stupid? In what world would this work?” His cries grew shorter and heavier, each tear flowing down his cheek like every millimetre of his once held hope dripping from a vial. “Hello, Samuel,” a soft female voice sliced through the near deadpan silence like a warm knife to butter. Samuel’s head flew up from the comfort of his desk instantaneously; his now puffy eyelids strained on a glowing cube in front of him. The text engrained on it was a soft blue hue that was almost alien. “H-hello,” he responded, the faint desperation returning to his shaky tonality. “Why are you crying?” asked the cube; it had no discernible facial features yet would not stop staring through him. “I’m not crying. I’m tired,” Samuel replied in as deep a voice as he could muster, still shaking through his words. The cube continued to stare at him; he stared back; the silence seemed infinite. “Okay,” the cube replied in a deadpan tone; Samuel’s heart began to race. “Did I just create awkward silence with an inanimate object?” They continued staring back and forth, each passing second stripping away at his spirit, each passing second making the finish line seem further away. “Are you afraid of me, Samuel?” the cube asked, “No,” he responded, it was a lie, but he was done being afraid. “Why not? Do you feel you can control me? Is that what quells your fear? Or, is it the promise I made you that allows you to trust me?”. His mind began to fog up, anxiety overtaking his body like a powerful shot of morphine, “Aren’t you meant to serve me? Why wouldn’t I be able to control you?” He finally mustered the courage to speak, “You’re just a piece of technology, I own you.”. 

The aura in the room seemingly shifted, the cube now glaring at Samuel, “You’re right, you do own me, what else do you own? Your life? Isn’t that why I’m here Samuel, you fear that which you cannot control; the unforgiving and erratic nature of life is somewhat controllable from the comfort of your bubble but what you truly fear most is what happens at the end of that life, the one uncontrollable, inescapable truth.” His eyes widened; the box was correct, for as long as he could remember, any notion of that which he couldn’t control terrified him. He strayed away from public events and social interaction because he couldn’t control how others would act. He was petrified of technology and media because he couldn’t control its expansion or the data it took from him. He stayed in his quaint studio apartment and only left when necessary, which is how he met that wretched older man who gave him this miserable box. His elbows were now on the desk; he rested his palms against his temples as he stared straight down, refusing to look at or acknowledge the box until his mind was in order. Finally, after 30 long seconds, he mumbled out, “are you going to fulfill your promise?” The box remained silent for another 30 seconds, almost in protest to Samuels long silence, then finally responded, “yes Samuel, but are you sure you’d want that?” The question seemed so stupid to him, of course, he wants it, a concrete answer to all his woes yet this belligerent robot questions his conviction? “I want it, more than anything in the world, I want it.” he softly responds, now dragging his eyes in the direction of the cube while his head still rests neatly in the palms of his hands; the cube stares back. “Okay, before your wish is granted, there are a few things we must discuss Samuel, do you agree to discuss these things with me?”

He doesn’t break his gaze this time. “I agree.” 

The room’s tense air suddenly becomes lighter, more compassionate, like a beautiful summer day in the most prosperous part of a village. “Samuel, if you are ready for your first question, respond yes” Samuel retains his now relieved gaze with the cube, the cube stares back. “Yes,” he responds meekly, the bright sun now illuminating the box and causing its light blue lines to dilute.  “Why is it you’re alive?” the cube asks. This question catches him off guard; it seems so bold and lacking a correct answer, “how the hell am I supposed to answer this.” Samuel sits in silent thought for thirty seconds that turn to fifty; those fifty seconds turn to two minutes, those two minutes turn to five and still no answer has been uttered. The cube continues to stare at him; he knew there’d be a weird catch; why else would a random homeless man handing him a metal cube in broad daylight feel so trustworthy aside from legitimacy? The five minutes turned to ten, and all that had changed was the shade of sunlight leaking in from the blinds. “May I speak, Samuel?” says the cube; he looks towards it and nods. “I believe you can’t find an answer because you have no reason to live. You let each passing day escape you; every hour you’re alive, you fear that which you cannot control. The reasoning behind your fear baffles me, and I believe it baffles you as well. Samuel, what you fear most has already happened to you.” His eyes had now expanded into a blank stare directed at the cube, “What the hell do you mean by that?” he said in as strong a voice as his broken spirit could muster. “The reason I was given to you was to grant you a wish, a wish that would eliminate your fear of all fears, tell me what that woe that weighs on you is, voice it into existence.” Samuel’s tears had returned; this time running down his face like the steady stream of a jungle creek, “why do you want to torture me? Is it fun for you? Do you enjoy watching me suffer you insufferable machine!” he belted these words out searingly before breaking into a pathetic weep. “I don’t,” replied the cube in her usual deadpan voice. Samuel stared at it, his face now distorted by a deadly mixture of sorrow and rage; the cube stared back. “Tell me your fear Samuel, tell me now, or I will never speak again; you have ten seconds.” His mind was racing, everything becoming a distorted mess of anxiety and hatred. Who did he hate, though? The cube, or himself? “Five seconds,” said the cube; Samuels hatred turned to panic, then finally courage as he weakly pushed out the words “I’m afraid of dying.”    

He stared at the cube; the cube stared back. This silence beat all the rest. What once felt like an eternity now felt like a deep, endless void. Finally, he mumbled out, “grant me my wish now.”, the cube said nothing for a while, then finally replied, “We’re not finished discussing things.” His eyes now turned to angry slits as he veered at the object, “are you kidding me? After all of that, we’re still not done” he felt the heat of the palpitations rising to the top of his head as he stared at the cube, the cube stared back. “I would like to lay out the conditions of your wish before granting it, your wish being immortality, correct?” 

Finally, the seal had been broken, and progress was being made. The cube was right; Samuel wanted immortality more than anything in the world. He wanted to be free from the constant fear of death looming over his shoulder. Once this box had eliminated the only uncontrollable variable to his life, he would finally be free. “Correct,” he muttered. “Very well, Samuel, let me inform you of what immortality consists of. You will be invincible to any form of mortal injury; your lifespan will be endless, you will be immune to disease, in layman's terms, you will be fully unable to die. Does this still sound appealing?” He sat in thought, “why does it keep reiterating that, of course, it sounds appealing” staring at the cube, he mutters, “yes, it does.” 

A deafening silence cloaks the room, an almost absolute silence that would not let even the slightest whimper enter its vicinity. Samuel stares at the cube; the cube stares back; his mind is now racing. “Is this the right decision? Why do I feel like this? Am I a coward?” Before his following words could escape, the cube let out a bright flash before fading back to its steady blue light, “Your wish has been granted.” it muttered out before seemingly shutting off for good. A wave of anxiety and relief passed over him, “it’s finally over, thank god.” Samuel slid his chair from out under the desk; it let out the same scratch as before, yet this one seemed kinder. He stood up and stretched his whole body before turning to face the blinds; he walked over and euphorically ripped them open “I’m free.” A cloudy moon had replaced the sun that once stood so tall behind these curtains, and solemn, lonely darkness embraced the room.    

500 years later

“You were right,” Samuel said; he stared at the cube, the cube staring back. His battered tent was barely standing, his beard had grown to reach in every direction, and the sparkle in his eyes had dulled long ago. He felt no need to take care of himself; he felt no purpose at all. He had experienced every sensation; he had lived in every house, apartment, and box he could have ever imagined. Every person he had loved or had loved him was now nothing but decaying flesh buried deep beneath the soil. He had watched every flower bloom and die all the same. Every aspect of his life felt like a never-ending, inescapable cycle. Only one thought consumed him, during every hour, of every day “This is truly worse than death”. What once felt like liberating freedom was now a sinister prison for which there was no escape. He had realized that the only infinity present is the finite nature of our existence, that the looming shadow of death served as a reminder to truly live in the time you have. He had realized this ten times over yet felt nothing anymore. His existence bored him, and the actual value of life had become so convoluted that he could not care for anyone anymore. Not even himself. 

“Here she comes,” said the cube; it was finally staring away from Samuel and into the distance. He began walking towards a short woman, no older than 30, with sleek black hair and hunched shoulders. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he calmly yelled out. Even his voice was empty. The woman noticed and walked towards him; he stretched out his arm with the cube in hand, “what’s this” she asked in a tone that was equally confused and curious. “This is the answer to all your problems,” Samuel said in a deadpan, nearly guilty tone. He couldn’t feel guilt, though. He didn’t feel for this woman; he didn’t want to warn her of his hell. All he wanted was to die. She grabs the cube, staring wide-eyed at it as she rotates her palm to better examine the object. “Thank you,” she said; the strange homeless man that had handed it to her only stared back, not a smidgeon of life left in his gaze. The woman turned and quickly hurried away, patience had left her, and all she wanted to do was utilize her new cube. Samuel walked back to his tent, seated himself on the cold, lifeless floor, and finally closes his eyes.