The innocuous looking box sits on the corner of David’s desk, perfectly aligned to the edges. He likes it when his assistant does that. The shipping label is nondescript and gives no indication of what company it is from or what kind of products they offer. Completely inert and yet he feels his blood pressure rising at the thought of its contents.
David doesn’t believe in destiny. Such mystical notions are childish. Feature articles, podcast interviews, blog posts, and personal appearances all tout his brilliance and his quiet climb to power from a humble patent clerk to the Director of the Unites States Patent and Trademark Office in only a matter of months. The American dream prescribes hard, honest work to be rewarded with a rich and fulfilling life. Whenever someone bestows accolades on him for his forward thinking and innovative genius this is the line he gives them.
When asked, he claims to have done nothing extraordinary. He makes decisions and takes risks that make sense in their context. It’s what anyone would do given the same information and options. It is a source of constant bafflement to him. It’s all so obvious and natural to David. One step leads to the next logical step, then another, and so on. Simple. All the fuss and analysis really is unnecessary.
David had spent years as a clerk, doing the work set before him, never looking for anything more than the next stack of documents to file, his next paycheck, the next government mandated holiday. All “I”s were dotted and all “T”s were crossed. Then one day he took a step back and he could see the whole picture and not just the one square inch allotted to him. And for the first time in his life he had decided to do something about what he saw, to be the agent of change in the world, as suggested by greater men.
But in truth it wasn’t just any day. It had been a succession of days that had changed him. He doesn’t like thinking that this is the case and he tells himself it was just coincidence, but it has never let him go.
It was the same as any other day because that was how he liked it. Order. Routine. No surprises. At the time he had had the same address for forty years. The same barber for fifteen. The same alarm clock since he was in college. He called his sister every Sunday at 6pm. He wrote his nephew once a month. He paid his bills as soon as they were due and he never answered the door unless the person had called ahead. The postman knew to use a special knock.
Leaves were changing from bright summer green to yellow as autumn settled in. He had his lunch in the usual place, a small park across the street from the office. Right bench, right side, in case someone else wanted to sit on the same bench. But they never did. Turkey, cheddar, mustard, no mayo. When he was feeling adventurous it would be Monterey Jack instead. Otherwise his lunch was as predictable as his schedule.
As he ate his sandwich and thought about the order of actions he would take after lunch, a woman walked into the small park. She wore plain brown flats, a skirt that covered her knees and a cardigan over her button up top. She looked around the parklet uncertainly. Their eyes met. She smiled. David looked away and pretended to be searching for something in his lunch bag.
“Hello.” The girl said to him as she sat down. On his bench. On the far side of it, but there were at least two other benches she could have picked from. She set her thermal bag in her lap and started organizing her food around her. Since it seemed like she did not require a response he kept eating, making sure his interest was on watching the birds in the trees or anything else that would discourage conversation.
After she had laid out her meal, she opened her fruit cup and started eating. Within a few bites she looked at him. “I’m Pandora.” She took another fork full of peaches. “I know, I know. My mom’s name was Cassandra. I guess my parents decided to go with the tragic Greek figure theme. I’ll have to name my daughter Persephone. In a way all Greek figures are tragic, don’t you think?” She looked at him but moved on without him. In this manner she talked the whole time. Including him in her conversation but requiring nothing of him.
