Reddit Stories & Other Fiction: 2021

The Game

The game was simple. A man. A room. A box. The man himself was no one of import, quiet, in his forties, balding, chosen at random by the executives. He didn't ask questions when the suits came for him — that was noteworthy — but otherwise he truly was an unremarkable specimen. He sat in the chair, as directed, and waited.

The room was dull and drab. Grey carpet lined the floor. Cold concrete held the roof. Fluorescent lights flickered in the ceiling. Once upon a time, the room held filing cabinets filled so full of documents they spilled out the drawers. Then the executives chose the room for the game, thinking it, like the man, was of no consequence. Some of the suits said the act of choosing made the room special. Some said the executives chose it because it was special. Regardless, they quarantined the storage room on the fourth floor.

The box was vitally important. The man could be any man. The room could have been any room. But the box had to be the box. To the outsider, it looked no different from any standard cardboard box, plain and brown, but the executives knew and thus, the game knew. Once the suits delivered the wrong box. The executives stressed the importance of safety after.

The game was simple. The man sat alone in the room until the suits delivered the box. If the man asked questions, the suits refused to answer. The man always asked questions. An hour later, the suits returned to the room to retrieve the box. The man never opened the box. The executives decided these rules when they devised the game. The game never changed.

This man didn't ask questions.

This man opened the box.