Your Box Problem
You have a box problem. Accept it. You can’t live without your box. You thrive inside your box and your box persists within you. Yet weirdly, the deeper you get into your box, the more you find yourself outside it… peering in. You can never really pull your gaze away. That’s what makes it such a vexing problem never truly to be able to face: it’s neither quite an addiction nor a choice. More than symbolic, you’re symbiotically enmeshed. You do things for your box and your box does things for you—whether you like it or not.
Don’t be dismayed, this only happens to the best and brightest. It’s an nth-world problem, as is said. On the plus side: for a simple symbiopoetic hypercube—which one may prehend as some strange, square-sided, self-installing loop—your box boasts an array of life-enhancing features. For example, it’s capable of containing all other boxes, including boxes that are bigger than it. It’s compatible with any shape or size box. It holds solids, liquids, gases, most spiritual substrates (phenomena and noumena, with a fantastic selection of pleromas) and sacred geometries alike. And it’s recyclable; it can be composted in specialized facilities. And since you’re always in the market for a newer, faster, awesomer, super cool, more evolved, even more stylish box: your box comes in any color you like, as long as it’s brown.
Fortunately, your box can be personalized. After checkout, you may choose to have your name inscribed alongside a custom logo—designed by cutting-edge void-energy and refurbished bio-machines—which then can be licensed for a monthly fee to represent your personal brand. Shackle yourself to the blockchain with facility. Your box is optimized for maximum privacy, transparency, and paradox. Indeed, if you look closely on the underside of any box (whichever side you choose), you’ll see a unique cryptographic number stamped in tiny lettering on every unit. (This is required by obscure, global-consensus protocols, which admittedly makes your box an object of conspiracy.) But that randomly generated key, when combined with a verbal password which you’ve hopefully memorized, lets you authenticate that your box is mathematically your own.
Needless to say, you’ll need a strong password… and don’t lose it. To be safe, you may decide to share your password with a friend—however, do recall the warning label on the packaging indicating that even your closest friends may not be able precisely to fathom the infinite interiority of your box—nor, to be fair, you of theirs. As well, it’s important to note that while some box owners manage to keep multiple personality types and disparate hyperobjects stored safely together in the same box, this does void the warranty.
As always, your best bet is to become an educated consumer. That’s why your box comes with both a “quick-start” guide and a far more comprehensive user manual, which sadly nobody reads. There’s also a legal sheet of terms and conditions, which you agree to by default. There it states in no uncertain terms: The manufacturer is not responsible for uses of this box that alter consciousness in any way that critiques the box’s proto-consciousness of itself, etc. All instructions and disclaimers are translated into other languages, including Finnish, Hindi, Arabic—the usual suspects—and a couple systems of intuitive gibberish. According to a popular blog that aggregates buzz and rumors relating to your box’s corporate sponsor / parent company, translations of these materials into Korean, Japanese, and Tagalog are currently in development. The blog fails to report, however, that these translations will contain slightly different usage instructions, suggesting that the latest model box may support not only Einsteinian coordinates, but also a limited number of speculative anti-dimensions, and thus might be compatible with some post-capitalist applications. The manufacturer will begin testing these features in the Asian market, for logistical reasons.
Wherever you reside, should you become dissatisfied with your box for any reason, and should you wish to file a formal complaint with terrestrial authorities, and even if you’ve had it with your box and you wish you’d never met your box and there’s nothing you want more desperately than to be rid of your box and you wouldn’t feed your box to your dog, please calm down… and save yourself the trouble: your box has already cancelled itself.
The main problem you have with your box is the same one everyone has with their box. It’s that—no matter how hard you try; no matter the blood, sweat, and tears; and no matter the money you throw at it—you cannot think outside your box. This is by design, and the manufacturer is aware of the issue. (You’ll only waste your time by calling customer service.) Although ostensibly your box encourages you to think “outside the box,” as the cliché would have it, the newest box technology is so sophisticated that it will contain your thinking even when you think you’re thinking beyond it and would like to think you’ve gone meta-box. The software engine accomplishes this using a chaotic gestalt of media-savvy algorithms—trade secrets, naturally—which automatically update via network effect as new thinking patterns, cognitive structures, and decentralized metaphors emerge. On this basis, you will not receive a refund if you wish to return your box. Your box cannot be returned.
Do NOT try to destroy your box.
Do NOT use your box underwater or shower with it.
Do NOT lend your box without notating the date and time of your transaction, and with whom it transpired.
Do NOT attempt to bury your box, unless someone’s ego has died inside of it. (Then of course it can be used for ritual purposes.)
Do NOT absentmindedly leave your box unattended in an airport.
Do NOT attempt to initiate sexual relations with your box, unless you’ve ordered the special attachment (for an additional fee).
Do NOT indulge in overzealous fanaticism in the name of your box, unless you’ve read the Asian-language instructions and understand them thoroughly.
DO treat your box with the consideration with which you would expect to be treated.
DO exercise and meditate with your box regularly.
DO talk to your box.
DO fill out the warranty & registration card, and return it to the manufacturer within 30 days of purchase.
DO consider buying a few shares of Hyperbox Technologies, Inc. (on the NASDAQ: currently trading, bullishly, at $333/share)
DO subscribe to Box Quarterly Magazine and the Journal of International Box Studies, and join the online community at Box-Life.com; and don’t forget to update your address on file if you’ve recently moved or expired.
DO expect your box to self-deconstruct after its expiration date, or even before.
DO open the box in which your box shipped before contacting customer support.
And finally, always remember these three (optionally, very important) rules:
- You get out of your box what you put into it.
- Any box is mostly empty space.
- Your box is only as good as you are.