Bourke's Box

"In all of my 64 years, I've never been treated like this," the man barked at me, "what kind of establishment is this?"

I was in the middle of a conversation with Mickey, the warehouse guy, trying to locate this man's shipment. I could have easily hung up with Mickey, told the guest his package never made it, and that would have been the end of it.

Well...maybe it wouldn't have been the end, but at least his problem would no longer be my problem. However I wasn't being paid to pass the buck and I kind of felt sorry for the guest. His demeanor reeked of disappointment with life and everything in it, and for someone like that I could only feel pity.

"Sir, again, I apologize and I assure you we're doing all we can. If you'd like to go ahead up to your room I'll be sure to notify you if we find it," I attempted.

"I don't think you understand, boy," the staunch, graying man said to me through narrowing eyes, "what's in that box is more important than anything you've ever dreamed of. I've got sixty-three of the most important people in physics waiting for me right now and I've got NOTHING to show them. Do YOU want to go tell them they've travelled all the way here for nothing?"

Without answering I returned to my phone conversation.

Mickey apologized for me having to endure this guy's attitude and assured me that there was not, in fact, any parcel in the warehouse 'shaped like a 3-foot wide doughnut'. I thanked him, hung up the phone and watched as the angry guest turned his back and marched towards the hotel elevators with his single piece of luggage in tow.

A final, disgusted look over his shoulder reminded me why I fucking hated that job so much. The guests there were almost always complete assholes. What could possibly be so important about that package?

"ROOM 334 IN CASE YOU FORGOT, MORON!" the man screamed from across the hotel foyer.

"Got it!" I yelled back, "I'll keep you posted!"

Those within earshot cast a collective stare towards me almost as if to say in unison, "Are you gonna take that shit?"

Of course I was. I was a happy, rule-following Hilton Hotels employee without a soul, any self-respect or care for the fact that I was being paid nine dollars an hour to take shit from rude pricks all day.

I needed a cigarette.

"Hey John, it's three o'clock. Can I go on break?" I asked.

John looked over from his station at the concierge desk. He glanced at his watch then gave me a nod.

***

"So what was that guy's problem?" Mickey asked me.

We normally met during our breaks to bullshit over a smoke or two. Mickey was one of the few guys I worked with who was almost as jaded as I was and it felt good to vent to him about the crap I had to wade through during my shift.

I finished my drag and explained that whatever this guy was expecting must have been ultra-important, and that it had something to do with psychics. Or physics, or some shit like that.

"Maybe he's with NASA or something," Mickey said, "Next time he comes down to check on his package ask him if he'll give us a couple of vouchers for a free tour or something!"

I laughed; Mickey did too but only ended up coughing.

Just then a delivery truck pulled into the loading bay of the hotel where we were sitting and parked about twenty feet away. A short, stocky red-headed man hopped out of the driver's side and made his way to the rear of the vehicle where he proceeded to open the sliding door and pull out, yes, a circular, doughnut-shaped box with red and white-striped packing tape all over it.

"Ha! Well, there's his flying saucer," Mickey said.

"Jesus fucking Christ, finally I can shut this dude up," I said as I mashed my lit cigarette into a corner of the stairs. "Maybe I'll deliver it with a hearty 'fuck you, asshole' just because, you know, we're all about service here."

"Hahaha...yea. That'd be dope," Mickey replied, "But seriously...what do you think is in there?"
The delivery driver brought the package to Mickey and had him sign for it. I remember seeing the driver pick the strangely-shaped object up with only one hand and give it to Mickey with barely any effort.

"Ha! There ain't shit in here!" he joked.

As the truck driver sped off, Mickey brought the package up the stairs and set it next to the wall where he and I both had a look at the markings on it. There were three affixed shipping labels, two of which had the to and from addresses scratched out to eliminate confusion by the postal service. We could still make out the lettering below the scratch lines, however.

"Looks like it came from Alaska at first, then went to San Diego, then here. Huh." Mickey commented.
I picked up the package and slid my forearm through the hole in the center.

"Needs icing!" I joked.

"Seriously though...this thing is light as hell. It's like there's literally not a damn thing in there," I said.

"Dude, let's open it...maybe someone stole what was in there and we need to let the guest know that, right? I mean, we have an obligation here," Mickey said, only half kidding.

"I got no problem with that," I said, "If we fuck up what's inside, if there IS anything inside, he'll actually have a reason for calling me a moron. Let's just be sure we're able to close it back up without any signs of tampering."

With that, Mickey and I wheeled the package through the warehouse doors, into the freight elevator lobby and back through to the janitorial area. We set it against the wall and I retrieved my keys from my pocket.

"Apartment key should do the trick," I said, slicing at the packing tape and making a hole large enough for my thumb to fit into.

I have to admit, I was pretty damn curious myself about what could be so important about a big, bike tire-shaped box weighing close to nothing. If the guest, whose name was "Richard Bourke" by the way, wanted to be such an a-hole, perhaps having a glimpse at his Ark of the Covenant wasn't so unethical after all.

As I eased my thumb into the hole I created with my key, I noticed something incredibly peculiar. It was as if there was a current of air running through the box, yet I couldn't hear any noises necessarily and there certainly weren't any machines or electrical devices attached to the thing that would account for such a strange breeze.

"What the fuck?" I remarked, "Mickey, put your finger in there."

"Why? What is it?" he inquired, peering at the hole I made.

"Just do it. It's like...there's wind in there. But, there's nothing blowing it. Fucking bizarre!" I exclaimed.

Mickey pushed the pointer and middle fingers of his right hand into the hole, a bit deeper than I had gone with my thumb.

"Whoah!! What the hell? Damn! It's...it's cold, too! It's like this box is like, I dunno...self-air conditioned or something," he said, "Dude, we gotta open it. This is waaaay fucking cool..."

"Nah, come on man. We've seen enough. This is too strange and what if this is some like, high-tech science experiment worth a bunch of money? We could get sued or something," I cautioned, "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not be sued by asshole scientists for letting the wind out of their box."

"Haha, good point. Fair enough...hey, grab that tape over there on that counter, would ya? I'll mend this hole and you can go give this thing to..."

Just then the hole I made in the box started to grow without us being anywhere near it. Compressed air coming from inside was gushing out of the hole at an increasing rate, and as Mickey and I stepped back away from the box, which was now on the floor, what we saw next is something we'd never forget.

From the hole in the box a bluish-white beam of light was emanating along with the air, and within a few seconds the 'doughnut' was split in half and what we saw before us was what I can only describe as a swirling, cold halo of blue light.

It...was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

The coldness coming from it was enough to drop the temperature in the janitor's room by at least a few degrees. But before I could take time to shiver, the 'halo' began to rise out of the box halve that it was in and there it hovered, about 3 feet off the ground.

"Oh...my...fucking...god..." Mickey whispered through quivering lips, "Derrick, what the hell is this thing..."

"I don't know man but I think, we need to get out of here," I said.

Just as I had finished saying that, the halo of cold, blue wind started to increase in size, thinning out a bit so as to resemble a flat disc of sorts. The light coming from it had begun to decrease in intensity, and right before our eyes, Mickey and I watched as the 'object' rose to the ceiling, entered an air duct and left our sight.

Mickey and I looked at each other.

Without saying a word, I grabbed the tape and began winding it around the two box halves.

"Ok listen, nothing happened here. We never opened this fucking box and you didn't see anything, got it?" I said.

"Yea, right...nothing." Mickey replied, his face ghost-white.

I grabbed the box, returned to the hotel lobby and told John I was back on the clock. I then took the package to the elevator, pushed the call button and waited.

Soon, the doors opened for one of the elevators and out walked Richard Bourke.

"AHA! You found it!" He said.

"Yessir. Here's your package. Just showed up." I said.

"So, apparently you're good for something after all, boy. I was just coming down to complain to management about you, so I guess you've averted that crisis." he said, taking the box from my hands and walking back into the elevator.

"Yessir," I said, as the elevator door closed.

"Crisis averted."