A curious parcel arrived last night

[forcesinbalance]

Something rather unusual happened last night. I know some of you enjoy a bit of mystery now and again, so I decided to share it here.

It was nearly midnight when the doorbell rang. I'm something of a night person, but I seldom have visitors so late. I was quite surprised to find a young woman at the door with a large, paper-wrapped box at her feet. The tag on her light blue uniform identified her as “Lisa”, an employee of some courier service. Lisa seemed relieved not to be facing a grumpy, freshly-awakened resident and chattered on as I signed her delivery form. I gathered that her firm specializes in emergency shipments, and that the sender had paid a premium for such a late-night delivery.

Needless to say, I was curious about the package by this point, and reached for it as soon as Lisa went on her way. It was surprisingly heavy, and much too solid to be cardboard. The return address specified an agency of some sort in Chicago; I didn't recognize the firm. Brushing aside the scattered debris of other projects, I set the box on my desk and tore away the coarse brown paper.

It was a strongbox, about a foot and a half in every dimension. It was a pretty good one, too—steel walls, internal hinges, and an excellent lock. No wonder it was heavy. I sifted through the wrappings to see if there was any sign of who sent it. Nothing.

Also, there was no key.

[forcesinbalance]

Once upon a time, the lock would have been no great obstacle, but my skills are rusty. I couldn't open it without proper tools, and mine were destroyed in an incident last year. I suppose I could have taken it to a locksmith, but that seemed wrong, somehow. I love a mystery, and wanted to open the box myself. Fortunately, I was able to prevail upon an associate of mine to provide the necessary items this morning.

I began working on the lock immediately upon returning home. After thirty patient minutes, I began to wonder if I'd been overconfident. The lock eventually yielded, however, and I managed to tease it open. Inside the box was another wrapped parcel, nestled in padding, with a letter lying on top of it. The spiky handwriting looked familiar, although I could not immediately place it. Here is what it said:

Quote:[Balance], my old friend,

I hope that I have not caused you too much trouble. I remember both your fascination with puzzles and your more eccentric skills, and hoped that you would be able to help me with something I stumbled across in my work. I found the contents of this box at a dig in Egypt, near the Monastery of the Transfiguration. It was obvious from the moment I saw it that it did not belong among the other artifacts we had found—it was clearly of much more recent origin, perhaps as late as the 19th Century. I suspected that someone had cached it there, and simply never returned for it.

Even though it did not fit with my plans for the dig, this artifact fascinated me. I am sure you will agree that the craftsmanship is extraordinary, and the style is unlike anything I have ever encountered. I neglected my other duties for several days to study it, but I was unable to unlock its secrets. I finally decided to put it aside for later study, perhaps with the aid of more experienced colleagues.

It preyed on my thoughts, though, and I became uneasy when I noticed several unfamiliar faces at the dig. This is not such an unusual thing—diggers come and go fairly often—but I found these new workers unnerving. They seemed to watch me from the corners of their eyes, and slipped away when I tried to approach them. I know: You would say that the sun was getting to me, or that I had watched too many movies. Nonetheless, I asked around, and no one seemed to know the men. My work at the site was nearly completed, so I decided to indulge my paranoia. I wrapped up my remaining tasks, packed the artifact, and took the bus to Cairo, planning to fly to New York the next morning.

My night in Cairo should have been most comfortable, a luxury after so much time in the camp, but I remained uneasy, and did not sleep well. I rose early and made for the airport. Do you recall the rule you often tossed at me back at university? “Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is conspiracy.” My approach to the airport was blocked repeatedly—and among the third group of men who tried to intercept me, I recognized one of the diggers of whom I had been suspicious. Rather than confront the men, I ducked into a taxi, giving the driver a destination chosen at random, buying myself time to think.

I am writing this letter en route to Alexandria, after changing cabs several times. Our old friend [the Spook] has left the Agency and started a private practice; I plan to ship the artifact to him, with the request that he locate you and forward the artifact and this letter to you as quickly as possible.

Once the artifact is on its way, I will try my luck at Borg El Arab Airport. Sending the artifact on ahead may divert these people, whoever they are. In London, I will surely be out of their reach, and can simply book a flight for the States. If all goes well, you and I will be working on this mystery together within a week—assuming, of course, that you leave me anything to solve.

Your friend in need,
[Digger]

I haven't seen Digger—I hope you don't mind if I use our old nicknames, in the interest of privacy-- in years. He stayed at the University to pursue graduate work when I left, and we fell out of touch. Of all the friends I made while dabbling in archaeological studies, he was, I think, the most stable—a careful, meticulous thinker. I can't picture him inventing a tale like this. I'm worried about him. Either he had gotten too much sun, or he was in real trouble when he sent the letter, trouble he probably isn't prepared to cope with.

The “artifact” he sent seems to be a smallish box of extraordinary design. The entire outer surface consists of rounded, overlapping tiles. Each tile can be pressed inward slightly, as if supported by a spring. It is roughly a foot in all dimensions at its widest point, tapering to perhaps six inches wide and four high at the opposite end. The whole is composed of dark—almost black—wood, with a slick, waxy feel to it.

I suppose it will come as no surprise that there is no obvious way to open it.

[+Josh]

Hmm, very interesting. Very good piece of writing in my opinion; I assume it's a work in progress? Don't mind if I nitpick a little:

Quote:Once upon a time, the lock would have been no great obstacle, but my skills are rusty.

The change in tense is a little abrupt and out-of-place, even though it's grammatically correct. Just for the sake of easy reading, I'd change the "are" to "were"; it's unlikely you'll be misunderstood.

Quote:Fortunately, I was able to prevail upon an associate of mine to provide the necessary items this morning.

"Prevail" doesn't seem like the correct word here... I would reconstruct the sentence using "borrow" or "loan".

Other than that, it looks good. I like your descriptive language, and the plot wastes no time sucking you in. Post more

[forcesinbalance]

cooldude42192 Wrote:Hmm, very interesting. Very good piece of writing in my opinion; I assume it's a work in progress? Don't mind if I nitpick a little:

Quote:Once upon a time, the lock would have been no great obstacle, but my skills are rusty.

The change in tense is a little abrupt and out-of-place, even though it's grammatically correct. Just for the sake of easy reading, I'd change the "are" to "were"; it's unlikely you'll be misunderstood.

Quote:Fortunately, I was able to prevail upon an associate of mine to provide the necessary items this morning.

"Prevail" doesn't seem like the correct word here... I would reconstruct the sentence using "borrow" or "loan".

Other than that, it looks good. I like your descriptive language, and the plot wastes no time sucking you in. Post more

OOC:
I'm trying to be very precise with tense in this piece, actually. It's an attempt at real-time epistolary (open-letter style) fiction. That is, it uses the conceit that I'm relating the story on a message board as it actually happens--thus my use of the present tense in any self-description, while maintaining past tense for actions. "My" skills haven't changed since working upon the lock, because less than a day has passed since the first attempt to pick it.

"Prevail" in the "prevail upon" phrase uses the "persuade successfully" sense of the word. It's a trifle old-fashioned, if not archaic, but I actually do speak that way IRL. In this case, it's also chosen to evoke a slightly dated feel--it's a modern story, since it's happening in real-time, but I want it to echo certain aspects of old pulp adventure/horror stories for thematic reasons.

I appreciate the feedback, even if I don't actually implement your suggestions. It forces me to analyze what I did, and why I did it, which can only help with similar stylistic choices in the future. I will keep your suggestions in mind, too.

Also, thanks for the compliment, and rest assured that there is more to come.

[forcesinbalance]

I have made a number of calls, to no avail. Digger's office at the university has not heard from him in more than a week. The Spook, too, seems to be out of touch, although his secretary tells me that this is not unusual when he's on the job. He always did have a high regard for the gumshoe mystique.

Stymied for the moment, I turned my attention back to the box. Its curious design reminds me of something, but I cannot put my finger on it. The resilience of the tiles fascinates me; they must surely be supported on wooden springs, and for such a delicate mechanism to survive so long is a marvel. The craftsmanship must be exceptional. I have noted, however, that some of the tiles offer more resistance than most. Perhaps the mechanism behind them has become fouled somehow.

In handling the box, I became aware of a faint sound within it. Something inside moves when I tilt it, but I have been unable to feel any shift in weight. Whatever it is, it must be very light.

[forcesinbalance]

Tcha. I can be a fool at times. It appears that the unusually stiff tiles are not evidence of a failed mechanism, but of one that still works surprisingly well. I have discovered that when one such tile is depressed, all the others I have found become locked in place, while the “normal” tiles are unaffected.. I now suspect that they are part of a rather sophisticated combination lock. I have begun experimenting with combinations, but there are a quite a few of these tiles, so it may take some time.

I am growing increasingly concerned about my friends. Given the time it must have taken for the package to reach the Spook, and then for him to find me and send it on, Digger surely should have reached the States by now. Yet he has contacted neither me nor his office. The Spook is still unaccounted for as well, and his secretary seemed uneasy when I spoke with her today.

Perhaps I am being paranoid—it would certainly not be a new experience for me—but I have resumed my old habit of sleeping with weapons close to hand.

[Wings of Light]

Very nice. Are you planning on publishing this? If you are, you might want to consider putting it into a diary format, with dated entries.

[forcesinbalance]

OOC:
The publication is in progress, more or less. I'm also posting in a non-writing-related forum without the OOC comments. It's an experiment in the use of a forum as a storytelling environment. The responses--curious, concerned, skeptical, dismissive, whatever--are part of the work as a whole. In the end, it should stand as both a story and as a capsule of the message board's culture. Each day's entry is pre-written, but I've been tweaking them as I go based on feedback here and on the responses on the board where I'm actually publishing it. I probably won't be able to republish it anywhere, as it would require permission from everyone in the other thread to republish their commentary.

I think of this thread as something like a DVD extra--a presentation of the story along with the scriptwriter's commentary. I hope that readers here will find it interesting technically, as well as enjoying the story.

Oh, and the entries are dated--the date of each entry is right there on the post, and the entry dates are chosen for a reason.

[forcesinbalance]

No matter which tile I press first, all the others are immediately locked out. My tentative conclusion is that they are all meant to be pressed at once, and evenly—a sort of pressure lock, rather than a combination lock. I have found and charted a total of twenty such tiles. It would seem that this box was not meant to be opened by one person alone.

I could certainly get someone to assist me in opening it, but I find that I'm growing increasingly wary of actually showing the box to anyone. The relative anonymity of my postings here seems safe enough, but the continued silence of my friends leaves me reluctant to involve anyone else directly. Fortunately, I expect that it will be a relatively simple matter to improvise a device that will open the box for me. I should have all the components in my lab.

[forcesinbalance]

Success!

I salvaged pieces from some clockwork insects and a few other small projects I had been tinkering with. It took a while to get it working, but rigging the legs together provided me with an armature that pressed each of the tiles evenly. I was rewarded with a faint click, and the upper part of the box shifted slightly, leaving a visible gap across the narrow end of the box. I used one of my picks to tug gently at the lid. It rose smoothly, revealing the latch mechanism—two long, tapering prongs that had been folded into the bottom of the case near the center. The nagging familiarity about the artifact's design abruptly resolved itself. The tiles are scales, and the latch resembles fangs; the box was made in the shape of a stylized viper's head.

I marveled at the design for a moment, but found myself strangely reluctant to reach into the maw of a serpent—even one made of wood. Rather than waste time reasoning with myself, I wrapped a wrench in a bit of cloth and used it to prop the box open near its hinges. Only then did I reach for the tantalizing sheaf of papers lying within.

My instincts were wiser than my thoughts. As I began gently gathering the papers, I felt the bottom of the box give slightly. There was another faint click, and the lid jerked downward, only to be stopped by my improvised prop. My eyes were drawn irresistibly to the “fangs”, on the points of which tiny droplets of liquid had gathered. It was clear then that the box was no ancient artifact. No such mechanism could remain functional for long without careful tending. What did Digger stumble into?

The papers surely hold the answer. They are not as fragile as I had feared. They are old, certainly, but not as old as I had expected—I would guess that they are no more than a century old, and in good condition for their age. Like the box itself, they have been well-preserved by someone. It took me a moment to recognize the language. I have not studied Aramaic since my university days, and I was no expert even then. The only thing I have been able to pick out so far is a word that means “god”, I think—it might mean “fear”. It is repeated many times throughout the pages, most often in connection with another word I don't know. Maybe this is some sort of religious text. I will have to dig out my old references and do some research before I can tell more.

[forcesinbalance]

I pored over the papers into the wee hours, studying my books and puzzling out bits of the stubbornly mysterious document. I have made more progress than I initially expected; online resources have proven to be quite useful. I now suspect that my initial guess about this being a religious text is wide of the mark. The layout of the document seems wrong--there doesn't appear to be any narrative, as such, or anything I recognize as verse. The passages I've been working on seem to be relatively straightforward descriptions, with categorical headings. It almost resembles a scholarly treatise.

The term I recognized is a Palestinian Aramaic word that can mean either “deity” or “fear”, according to my references. In this context, I suspect it means the former. It's difficult to be certain; either the author was using a slightly different dialect from the one my resources record, or the text is sprinkled with grammatical errors and loan words.

I am, however, reasonably certain that the word most often associated with “deity” throughout the text is “serpent”. I must admit that I find this a trifle disturbing.