The Locked Hexagon | Stories from Linkoland

Part 1 | The Descent

A message to Nihilists...

It was a Neutral Day. A thief stood in his cabin, thinking. Looking at the wooden table with a simple locked box placed on top. The Box didn't look very exquisite, a simple metal hexagon shape of unknown material, 3 inches by 3 inches. A split halving it Horizontally. It didn't have any locks but you could not open it, no matter how hard you tried. Some hypothesized the box was the very meaning of life. But this Thief begged to differ.

There had to be something inside.

 Their name was Maan. They had lived a treacherous and sorrowful life, but was able to become a community worker, though suicidal thoughts were common. He was being drained more and more with each day passing. Until he finally wanted to end it all, but that's when he heard word of the box, which he saw as a the small bit of hope he could desperately grab onto. He had no care for his life at this point, so he, without any thought or care, stole the box from someone. Being sloppy with the job, with the mindset of not caring what happens anymore. 

 Maan tried many things to open the box to no avail. He had a lot of hope of what it could bring to him, but it wasn't long before his failures started to get to him. He had lost all sanity by then. He lost hope in the box, and went into a rage. 

 He took a hammer and tried to pound into the box, but it wouldn't even make a scratch. Maan tried smashing it into a wall, wetting it, pouring acid on it. But nothing worked. 

 He went to a last resort, knowing it wouldn't work on metal but he'd gone batshit insane by now, willing to do anything. He set oil on the box, and calmy, lit a fire, saying to himself if this didn't work he was going to off himself.