Boxes — 1 of 1

"Boxes" by Anastasia Salter

Use no scoring.

Include plurality by Emily Short.

Use full-length room descriptions.

Release along with a website, an interpreter and the source text.

[Set-up]

When play begins, say "You haven't been here in months. The assistant offered to let you in, but you remembered to bring Ted's keys--you found them on his desk before you left, venturing into his home office for the first time since he moved into the hospital for a final stay. The room felt dead, and you left quickly. You didn't want to face this room either, but the calls from the assistant got more and more frantic, reminding you that while they are sorry for your loss, this office is due to be handed over to the new professor. If you don't clean it out, they'll have to donate what's left to charity.

So here you are, inside the windowless room where your husband spent most of his waking hours, and plenty more hours when he should have been sleeping. You've been here before, but never without him. Just drop-in visits, meeting him here on the way to lunch or dinner. Never for more than a few minutes, and never alone.

You shut the door behind you so that the assistant won't poke her head back in. You're not afraid of crying in front of her--you're not afraid of crying at all anymore, you've spent the last month numb, drowning memories with summer light and constant action.

But this room is just another project.

The sooner you sort through it, the sooner you can shut this door again for good."

The time of day is 2:20 PM.

When play begins: change the right hand status line to "[time of day]".

When play begins: change the left hand status line to "Ted's Office".

The description of the player is "You threw on jeans and a t-shirt and brushed your hair so that no-one would think you were a complete slob, but that's as much effort as you bother with these days." The player is wearing jeans and a t-shirt. The description of the t-shirt is "It's a free shirt with a game logo you don't even recognize on it." The description of the jeans is "They keep sliding down around your hips. You haven't been eating well these days--lots of half-finished take out meals in front of marathons of cartoons on Netflix."

The player is carrying Ted's keys. The description of Ted's keys is "This is the keyring Ted used to carry everywhere. Most of the keys you know--his beloved beat-up Chevy, which you already sold to help pay the hospital bills. The house. His office." Ted's keys unlock the tenure box.

[Tokens that don't start in room]

The Star Wars poster is a thing. The description of the Star Wars poster is "Up until you met him, Ted still had that poster in his room. It's from the second movie--the good one, not the prequel." Before taking the Star Wars poster, say "You pull it down from the adhesive and roll it up carefully. You'll probably never hang it up, but you don't want to leave it here." Understand "poster" as the Star Wars poster.

After taking the Star Wars poster:

Move the Star Wars poster to the cardboard box.

The fancy pen set is a thing. The description of the fancy pen set is "His mom got him that, when he finished his doctorate. You don't think he ever writes with them but they look good on his desk."

Before taking the fancy pen set, say "They're heavy, still in a satin-lined box. What's the point of something so ornamental that it never gets used?

You lift out the pen and twirl it in your hand. It's inscribed -- Theodore Wryght, PhD. You shove it back in the case and toss the set in the box."

After taking the fancy pen set:

Move the fancy pen set to the cardboard box.

Understand "pen" as the fancy pen set.

The envelope is an openable closed container. The description of the envelope is "It's for Ted, from the provost's office. It's dated only a few weeks ago."

The letter is in the envelope. The description of the letter is "It's the result of Ted's tenure case. You'd almost forgotten he'd submitted his files before things got much worse. You scan it quickly--we regret to inform you, contractual position while you seek alternative employment--there's no point reading further. Not like it matters now." Instead of taking the letter, say "You don't want the reminder."

The teaching award is a thing. The description of the teaching award is "It's a paperweight that says 'Teacher of the Year.'"

Instead of taking the teaching award:

Say "You heft the shiny award and think back to the day Ted received it, at a university dinner. The president (who never remembers Ted's name, much less yours, but always smiles at you with that same vacant expression) shook your hand and told you to be proud of all his dedication.

You put it in the box, imagining it on a shelf at home, a morbid trophy of soon-to be forgotten achievements.";

Move the teaching award to the cardboard box.

The corkboard is a supporter. The description of the corkboard is "It's a long board behind the desk for putting important papers on. Mostly it's covered in stickers from university publishers and conferences."

The bear card is a thing. The description of the bear card is "It's definitely not a store bought card. You can see the smudges on the drawing where the bear's paws hold up a 'Get well soon prof!' sign. The note inside reads:

'GET WELL SOON!!! We all miss you in class. Hope you recover and come back to teach quickly!!'" After examining the bear card, say "The card shakes in your hand and you clench down, crumpling the thick paper. You leave it." Instead of taking the bear card, say "You really don't want it."

The get-well-soon cards are on the corkboard. The get-well-soon cards are plural-named. The description of the get-well-soon cards is "These are cards from the beginning, when they still thought he'd be coming back. They're brightly colored and cheerful with pictures of flowers and landscapes." Understand "cards" as the get-well-soon cards. Instead of taking the get-well-soon cards the first time, say "Most of these are just cards from his co-workers and students, the ones who weren't close enough to come by the house, later, when everyone knew. There are piles more at home--ones from after a short break became a final leave. They all say the same thing, dancing around the word 'cancer' with platitudes and sympathy."

After taking the get-well-soon cards:

say "You start to pull them off the board, one after another. You barely look at them as you throw them into the office recycling bin. One of them is hand-drawn, with a picture of a strangely grinning bear on the front. You hesitate before throwing that one away.";

remove the get-well-soon cards from play;

move the bear card to the office.

The signed book is an openable closed container. The description of the signed book is "It's called 'Silent Poets + Invisible Mothers - by Mark Heralds. Mark's one of Ted's colleagues--you haven't seen him since the funeral." After opening the signed book, say "You don't have time to read it now, but you flip through to the first page, where you know his friend's signature will be. There's a note--'Thanks for the inspiration!!' You've never read it, but it feels like you have, thanks to Ted talking about it as he helped Mark revise the draft--something about marginalized voices in 18th century literature. There's a post-it marking Ted's place." Before taking the signed book, say "There are probably several books like this on the shelves, you're not sure you can find them all. But you can bring this one home, at least, evidence of what some of his sleepless nights helped create. You place it in the box."

The post-it is a thing in the signed book. The description of the post-it is "It's a note in your handwriting. Just 'Love ya :-)'. You probably stuck it on his lunch bag one morning before you left for work, and he turned it into a bookmark." Instead of taking the post-it, say "You go to remove the post-it, but leave it as it is, marking a read-through that will never be finished."

After taking the signed book:

now the signed book is closed;

move the signed book to the cardboard box.

[Timed release of significant objects]

After examining the desk: move the fancy pen set to the desk;

move the teaching award to the desk;

move the envelope to the desk.

At 2:25 PM: move the corkboard to the office.

At 2:30 PM: move the Star Wars poster to the office.

The Office is a room. The description of the office is "Ted's old office is a windowless cell, with cinderblock walls that remind you of your first dorm room. Fluorescent lights glare down on you from the ceiling, warehouse style, bothering your eyes. The room is in chaos--you hardly know what to look at first. His desk and chair are pushed up against a corner, and the walls are lined with shelves, posters, art and trinkets."

The description of a thing is usually "It is slightly dusty from neglect, but otherwise looks just like it did when Ted was here."

The cardboard box is an open container in the office. The description of the cardboard box is "It's a sturdy moving box. You only brought the one. Maybe you should have brought more, but you couldn't imagine bringing all these memories into your already claustrophobic house."

The desk is a supporter in the office. The desk is scenery. The description of the desk is "It looks like wood, but it's probably engineered. Most of the dents were there the first day you helped Ted move in--vintage, you'd joked. That particularly artificial color of brown laminate hasn't been popular since the seventies. Now it's covered with so much stuff and forgotten papers that you hardly know what to look at."

The office door is a thing in the office. The office door is scenery. Instead of opening the office door, say "You don't want to deal with the assistant now, and you can't leave here until you finish sorting." The description of the office door is "Ted's doctoral garb is hanging on a hook on the back of the door. The garish bright blue made him look even paler than he already was, and he always grumbled about wearing them to graduation."

The doctoral robe is a thing in the office. The description of the doctoral robe is "You reach out and touch the velvet-imitation fabric, but hesitate. Maybe you should have buried him in them, if there'd been a burial. It wouldn't have made much sense to consign them to ashes." Instead of taking doctoral robe, say "You don't even have a doctorate, much less graduations to attend anymore. At least if you leave them here maybe some adjunct will use them."

The chair is a supporter in the office. The chair is enterable. The chair is scenery. The description of the chair is "It's the red office chair Ted brought from home, when he first moved into this office and took one look at the broken old swivel chair he'd been given. You helped him assemble it." Instead of taking the chair, say "You've already got two desk chairs in your home office. After what this one has been through the past six years, you wouldn't wish it on anyone."

The future projects folder is a thing. The description of the future projects folder is "It's a plastic folder sticking out from the back of the box, haphazardly filed. You pull it out and recognize Ted's messy handwriting scrawled in the margins of page after page of project descriptions."

After taking future projects folder:

say "These are dreams for ten years of the future that won't ever come true now. It's only paper, but it feels like stone in your hand. You hesitate, but add it to the box. You'll read it later, maybe, when you want to remember.";

move the future projects folder to the cardboard box.

The tenure box is a locked openable closed container in the office. The description of the tenure box is "It's got a big label on it reading 'Dr. Theodore Wryght.' Not that he'd let anyone call him that, but this box had all his materials for the administration." Some files are in the tenure box. The files are plural-named. The description of the files is "Ted used to joke that this was his life work in paper. Maybe this is what you should bring home with you, but what would you do with it? Read the old papers you helped him revise, or thumb through course syllabi that he'll never teach again? Pull out summaries of course evaluations and wonder which students made the joke about his terrible ties?" Instead of taking files for the first time, say "You can't bring yourself to put the entire thing in the recycling bin. You feel a lump in your throat at the very thought, like it would mean scattering his ashes one more time--and not in the garden, just in some institutional waste bin with student essays and spam mail from publishers."

Instead of taking files:

say "It would take too much time to sort through them all, but surely there's something important in there? You start to push through the labels.";

now the future projects folder is in the tenure box.

The photograph is a thing. The description of the photograph is "It's a picture of you and Ted in Hawaii. The sun is in your eyes and you're both squinting. You remember that vacation--well, it was supposed to be a vacation for you, Ted was there for a conference. You spent a lot of time sitting on the beach reading, waiting for him to finish with sessions and networking. You argued that night about how much time he spent working and why he'd even asked you to come in the first place, but you'd both smiled for this photo." Before taking the photograph, say "It's not much, but it is one of the few photographs of the two of you together. You hold it for a moment, looking at Ted's expression. He'd been up late the night after it was taken, working on a grant application or a book proposal--after a while, it all blurs together. You'd shared a bottle of cheap sparkling wine (not champagne, something from Spain or California with a burnt aftertaste) and celebrated when he finished and he'd promised he'd have more free time next semester.

You feel your fingers clench tightly around the photograph. He promised that before he knew that battling cancer would take the last of his time away. Sighing, you place it gently in the box."

Instead of taking the photograph:

move the photograph to the cardboard box.

The tiki mug is a thing. The description of the tiki mug is "It's a souvenir from a bar in Florida. It's completely tacky, bright purple and black with an eerie smiling face staring up at you." Instead of taking the tiki mug for the first time, say "Ted said he was bringing it to work for coffee, and the stains inside suggest as much. He collected a ton of mugs like this over the years, mostly from conferences near silly theme bars. He brought them back for you, but you don't drink coffee. Do you really need to take it home?"

After taking the tiki mug:

say "It's heavy in your hands, but you can imagine Ted's fingers around it each morning he came in early for a faculty meeting. You place it gently in the box.";

now the tiki mug is in the cardboard box.

Some shelves are supporters in the office. The shelves are scenery. The description of the shelves are "There's so much here, all the books that overflowed from his office at home. You trace your finger along the spines, feeling the worn edges of some and the untouched crisp covers of some books oredered and quickly forgotten. He'll never break these open now. As you move along the bookcase, a few items stand out."

After examining the shelves:

now the photograph is on the shelves;

now the tiki mug is on the shelves;

now the signed book is on the shelves.

[End the game when the player has gathered all the necessary objects]

Leaving is a scene. Leaving begins when the photograph is in the cardboard box and the tiki mug is in the cardboard box and the future projects folder is in the cardboard box and the signed book is in the cardboard box and the teaching award is in the cardboard box and the fancy pen set is in the cardboard box and the Star Wars poster is in the cardboard box.

When Leaving begins:

change the left hand status line to "Nobody's Office";

Say "As you place this last token in the box, you look around the room and it already feels different. Traces of Ted are still here, and you can still imagine him in that chair, laughing, explaining a reading to a student or working on his own never-to-be-finished book. But it won't take much for someone else to sit in that chair and push away even those last remnants.

You pick up the box. It's lighter than the sum of any life should feel, but it gets heavier as you carry it to the door. You don't look back as you turn off the fluorescents overhead and leave the office in darkness.";

End the story.