The GOD Box

by Melissa Horan

  Jonathan was now seeing the light, too, and pressed more firmly on Gabe’s back. Gabe looked back, “stop it”. Jonathan didn’t say anything and he didn’t stop. Gabe went slower on purpose. That ticked Jonathan off. Finally, they stepped into air that was a little less dense. What a relief. There were two silhouettes. Only two? Maybe they wouldn’t die, then.

  No one said a word to each other.

  Keeping eyes locked on the two strangers, they stretched long and hard as if having a brand new body were the hardest kind of work. All the while, two young strangers waited for them looking wary, puzzled, and vaguely surprised. A plaque behind Gabe on the right side of the cave opening reflected the firelight. What it said was this:

  Welcome to the birth site. This plaque is in commemoration of a special project designed to help humanity start anew, re-experience the natural man, and follow a better pattern of living than our predecessors. To activate, please type this code in the keypad to the left: 337465. Please wait.

  Not very informative, Gabe would admit, and not even entirely honest. More information than that might have been too much, though. Jonathan had eagerly tried to persuade the committee to let him write it, but when he tried, it sounded like a lab write up, with words normal people wouldn’t understand, let alone a new society of people. One of the women on their team suggested to just have a big red button with a sign that said DO NOT PUSH next to it.

  Two live old men were the exhibition of ‘the birth site’. Admittedly, that was the strangest thing imaginable, and, admittedly, Gabe didn’t care. That was the way it was, and they can stuff it.

  Gabe finished stretching, feeling dry and heavy. A slouch and suspicious grimace returned. There was no escaping his doubtful look and the weight of the stress by the way his neck stuck out like a starving bird searching for food scraps. Sure, he was supposed to be the friendly one. He just didn’t particularly feel like it at the moment.

  Looking up and down the pair methodically and with relentless scrutiny, Gabe was trying to make some sense of the time period they were in. Looking at the lack of preparation, of water containers, of weapons, of lighting… this was bound to be… different. It was too dark to see the details of their clothing, but it looked like the woman had a cotton shirt and the man was shirtless. They were young, too, the youngest group yet to find them. Though young, they seemed firm in their gaze, but hesitant about the matter at hand – understandably. With a loud huff Gabe said a disappointed, “hello”. He hated this cave, and he hated Jonathan, and he hated these two children.

  “…hey…” was the response, one after the other. Jonathan participated by a raised eyebrow and a frown. That was as good a greeting as ever for him.

  Jonathan did the same observations, but more quickly, less thoroughly, and then was looking to Gabe for some kind of out so that they could go and discuss what happened last time. Gabe saw this and already knew why they needed to discuss, now that Jonathan was feeling up to it. His memories were vivid of the previous time, unfortunately. Last time they were killed so quickly… they didn’t have time to organize... This made the anticipation of what they were up against more difficult to deal with. Hmmph. Gabe considered whether or not to discuss for a moment… and then, mostly out of spite, soldiered on in his observations.

  These kids were the age of his college students. Twenties or so. To Jonathan they just looked like snot-nosed kids who probably had little to no reading skills, considering the pattern of de-evolution they’ve been seeing each time. Gabe always told Jonathan that he was a terrible judge of character, and terrible at reading people in general. Gabe knew that Jonathan was okay being a social imbecile because that wasn’t why he was here, and it wasn’t why he was famous, and it wasn’t why he was rich – blah, blah, blah.

  But, thought Gabe, it was why he was lonely. Not that he could talk. Gabe was the mind reader and the, albeit, forced, friend. Ironically, when people tried to form personal relationships with Gabe he closed off the harder they tried. Jonathan at least had a soul that a few people had managed to touch if you can get past the frown, the drugs and the blunt, insulting, impatience.

  “My name is Gabe.” He said placidly again and shook their cold, soggy hands. This visibly irritated Jonathan, to have ignored his silent plea for discussion first. This was not the smartest thing to do from the get-go, but, Gabe didn’t care at the moment. He was sure Jonathan deserved it for something. They would just have to talk privately later. Gabe considered it was Jonathan’s fault for not wanting to talk earlier, even if he was insufferably claustrophobic. Jonathan introduced himself also, because he had decided that everyone should know who he is. The two strangers didn’t seem to want to give names just yet.

  How could Gabe get them to trust them, without them realizing he was trying so obviously that they mistrusted him? Such a dilemma; he hadn’t practiced these skills in years, maybe in centuries for all he knew.

  The two looked at each other, and the woman said to the man,

  “Is this what you expected? ‘cause… uh… this isn’t what I expected.” She said, humorously, but lacking the expected expression.

  “Yeah… the word project didn’t really sound like, two old men, to me. But, you know… words…” The man shrugged and looked back at the two old men quizzically and with a slight frown.

  He reached out his hand and again shook their hands, “My name’s Dane.”

  The woman then introduced herself, following suit. Her name was May. Then, she turn to Dane again, “Yeah, I was thinking like a library…”

  “Or maybe some tried and true instruction manual…”

  They considered their thoughts for a moment, then they stared back at Gabe and Jonathan, with fixed and almost fierce expressions, seemingly trying to figure them out.

  Was this awkward? Yes, it was awkward. Gabe thought.

  Gabe considered the next problem, which was what to do when they are willing to learn, and not just unknowingly become lab experiments. This had only happened once before and whatever trust they gained was lost when Gabe panicked and pulled out his gun. That was what happened the previous time, and let’s just say it didn’t go too well.

  It looked like he was trying to touch the ground with his chin, the way his head hung forward with his neck out. Hands on hips, he looked over to Jonathan who appeared stale and unapproachable, full of angry thoughts and assumptions. Yet, he was waiting like a good boy for Gabe to say anything a bit more conscientious than he could muster – a habit they had both come to accept with however much angst on Jonathan’s part. Words just weren’t his strong suit, or, rather, using them coherently.

  What Gabe was really hoping for was that the two strangers would ask them questions instead. He gave Jonathan a warning look to give them a bit longer to do so. They took the silence as permission and the man asked,

  “So… Who are you?” He was standing with feet shoulder width apart and one hand in his pocket and the other hanging stiffly to his side, attempting a look of ease. He was around six feet… maybe a little taller. Gabe used to be about six feet tall standing straight, but not only did he hardly stand perfectly straight, but had now shrunk some. The man’s shoulders were not very broad, but he looked like the type of person Gabe never associated with… he seemed to match the posters of rock climbers, toned and very lean. There was no acting in his sovereign demeanor, but surely it was not his common character. Posture was good and steady, yet that stance for him seemed far too uncomfortable and rigid.

  In considering his question, the old men knew it wasn’t so much of a who are you question but a what are you. Gabe let Jonathan take the reins on this one so that he could lie a little, and he did so curtly,

  “We are scientists who lived hundreds of years ago, survived the destruction of billions of people, and discovered a way to come back to life to view the continued progression of the world and hopefully help the human race be more successful.”

  Gabe gave him a sideways glance but ignored trying to give
a more honest answer. The real answer was simple enough, but… you know… totally and undeniably crazy at the same time. Whatever. Craziness was definitely what the look their new acquaintances passed between them, now, said. They pointed between each other as if to decide who would ask the questions first.

  “I’d rather not first assume you’re crazy” May began, “but you need to answer a few questions. Come back to life? As in you’ve died before? And… multiple times?”

  Jonathan and Gabe looked at each other, then both started talking at once. Figuring out who to listen to was awkward. Neither wanted to stop… so, Gabe explained to Dane, and Jonathan “explained” to May. But what Gabe knew, and what May was about to find out was that explanations from Jonathan were sort of useless.

  Gabe said easily, “Our civilization was far advanced. We had lots of science experiments, medicines, technology you wouldn’t understand. By a certain process and having the right materials, we could create life. Including our own… which still works after we die because of some new technology.” The pitch of Gabe’s voice was a little higher than expected for a male, and always had been, but was conscientious and intelligent.

  Glancing over to the other conversation and back to her own, May was wincing like she was in pain, but was even honestly trying to grasp something… or anything from Jonathan.

  “… because of the hemoglobin in the blood, it wouldn’t have worked any other way. It was necessary for us to do so. The prototype didn’t seem to get it. Artificial intelligence my ass.” Then he kept talking… but not really to May, or to anyone… to the cold stone ceiling… drifting off in memories about things that worked and things that didn’t.

  What was alarming to Gabe was that this whole situation was not very alarming to them. Obviously, they didn’t know the extremity of the situation. They didn’t know what had happen before… but also obvious was that they had expected something, even in their vaguest considerations, which would teach them about the past. The issue of dying so fast last time would unfortunately mean they left behind more of a trace than usual. How many years had it been?

  Dane continued, insinuating too much to be healthy, “The continued progression? Does that mean this has happened more than once?”

  Jonathan stopped talking abruptly, shocked that no one was listening to him, then took in Gabe’s expression of: really, you gave that away already? The concern on both their minds, however, was how much information to give them… that was the hard question… could they handle the truth? Well, honesty seemed to always be the best policy. So, they might as well get to it.

  “Yes, this will be number five.” Gabe clarified. “What year are you in now?”

  “Two-hundred and twenty-eight.”

  Huh. Gabe likely made it a little too obvious that he thought that was interesting.

  “Okay” he responded. And that was it. What it meant was that this civilization had been in progress for ninety-one years (if they really kept accurate records, which was probably not likely). What was very curious, but unnecessary to share was how late that was in their civilization, comparatively, to have come to this particular ocean, and, to have had boats out and about to stumble coincidentally upon the entrance of this cave. The time before that was fifty-five, then thirty, thirty-two, and a record of twenty the first time. Gabe imagined the time of expansion would have been opposite, but now that he thought about it, it made sense.

  With hands fidgety in her pockets, but a steady voice, May asked, “So in two-hundred and eighty-seven years you’ve come back to life five times?” Her voice was kind and warm, albeit skeptical.

  Both hesitated this answer, knowing one would say “yes” and one would say “no”.

  The silence was giving the secrets away anyway. Already they’d given more information than usual, because these two seemed particularly trusting. Instead of an answer, Jonathan abruptly decided they should move upward.

  The silence shifted, as if embarrassed because no one moved.

  Attempting to be helpful and throw a bone Jonathan’s way, Gabe admitted congenially that it would be really nice to see each other in full sunlight and felt that that might help. When the stares continued he settled with not pushing the matter and answered them.

  “The honest answer is yes, but that comes with a long explanation.”

  “Damn it.” Jonathan offered to the conversation.

  The pair looked at him and managed to make the same very clear repugnant expression toward Jonathan’s unconcern.

  “Let’s sit, shall we?” Gabe offered like a salesman about to give his pitch. They sat - in the darkness, in the cave. He debated how to go about this. There was a lot they could know, and could even understand, but he didn’t know if he wanted them to. Or, if he’d be able to explain it well enough. Howbeit, he felt like this talking was good and he was a little more at ease. All four of them were shivering though, which seemed like a stupid punishment for unfamiliarity.

  As they talked he determined a few things. According to the books, Gabe was a cultural and linguistic anthropologist. English was the only language that was saved, so naturally that was the only thing he had to work with. That made about half of his life’s research a waste. He noted that communicative language was fine, but expressive language was probably missing a few things. Too many slang terms were part of the typical vocabulary. They generally wouldn’t have words further back than the last generation, though that was an unproved assumption. Often times what would occur is that they tried to mimic a modern idea, and for lack of vocabulary, called it the only thing they knew.

  Gabe opened up to them first so they would feel comfortable, “People have always created organization for themselves, called government, or rel - ” He cut himself off and corrected, “Well, let’s just say government. Is that a term you understand? Because that will be easiest to explain.”

  “Yes” They said simultaneously.

  “Okay, great,” He said it was great, although he didn’t really think it was; not yet. “So a government imposes restrictions; or limitations on people - ” He paused when they looked confused.

  “What do you mean?” May asked.

  “They make rules in attempt to make things equal with the people they govern; to hold order.” He watched them to make sure they understood, then continued, but May’s question suggested that they didn’t have the same type of government. He’d have to learn about that later. “Once upon a time there was this thing called morality… and, ideally, these expectations made everyone equal. But, in our time, people were still fighting against these morals which were decided by people who lived centuries – hundreds, of years before us. It was created without equality for a few reasons: (1) They just didn’t have the knowledge of what would transpire in hundreds of years; the kinds of people and cultures they would need to incorporate; the multiplicity of situations that would need a third party for (2) The people who created them were in the privileged tiers of a stratified society, sorry… a hierarchy? And so they abused the system while those under their govern were held to the ironic standard, and (3) The very idea they tried to encourage was freedom by balancing everyone’s actions, but limited freedom of choice in the attempt.

  “There were hundreds of thousands of cultures who all lived (at one point) in very different ways. All of them had some type of government, or social organization that held expectations for their members. Change was always a battle. Many people had what you might call an elitist view of freedom – they decided man’s highest achievement was this freedom; that represented progress and growth. Many Anthropologists – a surprising amount – had this view, which was a sight better than what the world first defined progress as, which was technological, scientific, and economic advancement. I could, but won’t, go into details about the difficulties of measuring freedom and the overarching arguments about how we could all possibly agree on what freedom could mean.

  “Those with this opinion started going around trying to convince, or coerce
this freedom among different groups. America, the country we lived in, had done this for years, with little success, but these groups of anthropologists were trying new ways. Good ways… safe ways that wouldn’t overwhelm a culture with changes. The last thing they wanted to do was destroy culture. But, it happened anyway. It stopped becoming a covert operation by experts, to everyone trying to change everyone and the superpowers of the world wouldn’t have it.

  “I could go on forever about why that didn’t work. However, the point is that we were hoping for freedom. That is what we still want, but we realized we had to start with people who didn’t have bias, or culturally inherent morals or habits. Does that make sense?”

  “Sure” They agreed together. It was a little creepy that they responded so frequently at the same time, with the same tone. While the last miniature part of childishness that Gabe possessed was tempted to say, ‘jynx’, he realized his very unchild-like face, instead, made a strange expression at them, which he tried to quickly correct.

  Whether they really understood remained to be seen. The conversation continued with their clarifying questions. Jonathan made a few mediocre comments, and Gabe came in and out, sometimes asking for clarification for things on their end, and sometimes explaining his perspective.

  During the entirety of their conversation, Gabe was reminded of an old quote. It was said once that it wasn’t a matter whether men worshipped, but who or what was the object of their devotions.* He’d always found this a worthwhile phrase, but not for God. Still, what did these people worship? Success and power based on knowledge and skill? Dominance? Fear? Technological advances (whatever they might be)? Organization and control? Relationships? Wealth? Ease and comfort? Societal well-being? Happiness?