Beyond the Box

By Mary Johnson

Beyond The Box is a fictious story The story is written as a paradox. Statements within the story are made to shed a little light on the errant and confusing behavior of many in present day society.

The main character, Jed (Myis) Turner is a man on a mission. In order to complete it he must first live his life as someone else. His physical person has been altered to look and act exactly like the man he pretends to be. Everyone has heard the statement outside the box. Myiss thinking is beyond the box. The box being that which is normal.

The story has a fluctuating viewpoint between the narrator and the characters. The narrator sees the characters as he remembers them. The characters see themselves as altruistic, and liberators of inferior beings.

Good and bad things happen when these people become desperate to be socially acceptable and accepted. Those in the limelight, especially politicians who compete for favor, seek to please and appease unhealthy lusts. Unwittingly, they open the door for a barrage of unsolicited emotions causing reactions that are often iniquitous.

A paradox is further displayed when Myis falls in love with a woman(Naomi) who represents all he hates.
On the other hand, he rejects the woman(Margrielle) who represents the things he loves.

He is supposed to create a perfect world of peace and contentment. Instead, he creates one of violence, lust and selfishness. He wants to father a child who will father a perfect nation. He succeeds in creating one that destroys him

The story begins at the end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503576414

Book preview

Chapter I

"My name is not important, but what I have to say is very important. As I sit in the room assigned to me in this new hiding place, my mind begins to go over the events that brought me here. I live in an age of technology and many happenings in my existence are decided using computers.

However, life can’t be programmed by computers. Neither will it be categorized and placed in a box. It will soon find its way out of and beyond that box.

Thankfully, it’s not possible for people to actually plan what will occur in their lifetime with these scientific devices. If it were possible, most would create for themselves a perfect life; a neat little packaged story with a happy ending. Of course, looking at life from a simple perspective who can say what’s actually perfect? One person’s perfection can be another’s blemish. Life must be lived by an individual. Unexpected experiences are essential for growth. A dream world made real will never be as it was expected to be.

It’s no secret that man alone can never be perfect. Perfection can only be created by one who is perfect and He alone determines its existence. Perfection does not need to be changed. Yet, people change every day. I feel that if there is need for a change, then the present is not perfect and we can’t be certain of its continuing.

Here is one thing that we all can be certain about; there is an end to everything, even the world.

I was born into this world; the world after the war that ended before my birth.

According to the account given to me; imperfect beings tried to create a perfect world for everyone. They reached for that which was beyond normal thinking.

They wanted something new, different, and better than the original plan. However, not being able to see into the future, they made mistakes. Stubborn, and unwilling to admit to their errors, or imperfections, they forged ahead until ‘the clay was marred in the potters’ hands.’(kjv) Regrettably, like all flawed creations, it too is doomed to end.

I would like to tell you about an old man whom I merely call grandfather.

He also lives in the imperfect world. He knew what happened on the day when the ending of this world began. He told me about it as we sat talking one evening.

Grandfather said,"

"That day had been just an ordinary one for a man in his forties. I had gone to work that morning and endured an average day of chaos. Things were out of order at my office. The threat of a takeover was on the horizon. As a stock broker, I peddled dreams to those who wanted to buy into the future.

Company big wigs were scurrying to produce, or hide assets. Accountants ran around like headless chickens, still trying to prove themselves worthy of keeping a job. These kinds of happenings were relative to the times. It was kind of a dog eat dog world that seemed to grow worse by the day. The dog with the biggest and sharpest teeth (the most politically knowledgeable, and financially endowed) won the fight and took the prize.

The troubling times were not at my office alone, but everywhere. Major companies were on the brink of financial ruin. The economy was in shambles.

Whole countries were on the borderline of bankruptcy.

Disputes between nations over exports, imports and nuclear weapons were common. These disputes were most often followed by sanctions. These sanctions were imposed upon culprits because of some unpopular actions they refused to discontinue.

During that time, and in many places, acts of terrorism were basically the ‘norm.’ It became difficult to tell the good guys from the bad. Because the truly guilty parties were not willing to accept their mistakes, a lot of finger pointing and false accusations arose. Especially among those who held positions of trust (world leaders and politicians included); arbitrators were constantly putting out fires (quelling disagreements). In other words, life was a bit chaotic.

After leaving work that evening, I stopped at a restaurant. I purchased a pizza and went home. I had hoped to spend a quiet evening streaming a movie from the internet, and getting some much needed rest. I wanted to forget the craziness around me, if only for a moment. Still fresh in my mind, were the devastating earthquakes in California and abroad. That series of unprecedented eruptions and tidal waves had finally taken part of the state off the map. This calamity had been predicted long ago by Nostradamus, but most of us neither knew, or paid attention to the predictions of the long ago dead prophet.

The evening was pleasant enough. As I approached my house, I could hear the shouts and joyful screams of kids having fun in a backyard pool. As I turned into my driveway, there was the sound of a lawnmower’s motor humming and my next door neighbor’s dog barking a welcome.

Everything seemed almost normal again. I, like others, had been anxious to return to business as usual; not wanting to dwell on the earthquake tragedies.

There were no ominous warning signs of other coming disasters. At least, not visible ones. Most of us paid no attention to the warnings of other prophets of doom, a name given to many preachers. People were too busy having a good time. Looking back, I wish I had the ability to turn myself around and kick myself. How could I have been so blinded to the happenings around me? I was filled with complacency; satisfied with my own existence; my own day to day living.

Later that evening, I sat in the living room watching the movie. It was an action packed police story called A Night On The Job or something like that. The story was nearing the climax. All at once, the screen was black.

Then the whole room became dark. There were no street lights on either. The only light came from the moon.

Power failure!? We pay our bills and the service is still lousy! I said disgustedly, to myself. I was disappointed at not being able to see the end of of the movie. Moments passed, while I contemplated the whereabouts of my candles. That’s when I heard the sound of running feet and people yelling to each other. Lights from cars flashed into my window. I went to the window and looked out. The neighbors were slamming car doors, backing out of their driveways, and leaving the area.

I ran outside, and yelled to Mr. Green, the neighbor across the street from me. He was also backing out of his driveway.

What’s going on? Is this a blackout!?" Fear gripped my mind as I looked at the expression on Mr. Green’s face. I remember that he yelled, Run for your life! Get to your shelter as fast as you can! We’re under attack!" He drove away.

Running back to my house, I grabbed my hiking backpack from the front closet. Then, I grabbed my car keys and ran out the door. Outside, I found the neighborhood had quickly become like a ghost town.

I threw my backpack into the back seat, and drove toward my previously assigned shelter some distance from my home. When I reached the highway, I knew something big was happening. The on-ramp was crowded and other drivers were forcing their way into the line of highway traffic. Road rage was a meager definition for the display of emotions shown by this group of previously normal people, turned maniacs.

Traveling at about five miles per hour, I slowly nudged my way into the line of cars also traveling at parking lot speed. All were heading away from the city.

I ignored the obscenities shouted at me by some old man, as I almost took off his right bumper. Courtesy was non-existent as human beings went into survival modes of their own.

I managed to approach my shelter without being murdered. Turning onto the road that lead to my journey’s end, I came upon both abandoned and occupied cars parked along the side of the road. This made reaching my shelter more difficult. A line had formed and grew longer by the minute.

Soldiers were approaching cars nearest the shelter entrance and talking to the occupants.

I looked at my gas gauge and my heart sank. I had only a quarter tank of gas left; not enough to wait in a long line. Of all the stupid luck! I had planned to fill my tank on the way to work in the morning.

My mind was filled with questions. It seemed to me at that moment, the world was spinning out of control. The dizzy feeling was only in my thoughts.

Before I could wrap my mind around what was happening in front of me, another tragic situation presented itself.

Mr. Green had said nothing about who was attacking or what method was being used. As these thoughts toyed with my conscious fears, I heard the sound of a plane’s motor. One question was soon answered as a small, but well-armed fighter plane bearing an unfamiliar insignia, flew over the road.

It was being pursued by an unfamiliar mini-copter that fired at it.

The occupants remaining inside cars began to get out and run for their lives.

Screams and shouts were heard as people raced for the shelter! The shelter entrance became jammed with desperate people who were pushing, shoving, and fighting their way inside. Although plans and directions had been given for an orderly relocation of residents in case of an attack, panic produced plans of its own. Needless to say, that meant chaos and lost lives.

In the distance, I heard explosions and the warning sirens like those used to announce an approaching hurricane. The copter succeeded in striking the plane with a laser blast. Yeah! A laser blast! That was something new! Of course, there was only so much information that people like me were privy to. The explosion was too close for comfort, and scattered burning debris over the nearby vacant field. I still did not know how our enemies had gotten this far, or why they were willing to risk so much.

Fearing more planes might be headed my way, I left my car and ran into the field on the other side of the road. Other people had also made the same decision. We all ran for the group of mountains that seemed to be about a mile away. Just then, three more planes flew overhead followed by mini-copters.

One plane, flying just overhead was firing bullets at the cars on the road. Some cars went up in flames. Another plane, firing bullets, headed for the shelter. It was blown from the sky by a mini-copter. The first plane left the area pursued by another one-man copter.

I, along with the others, laid down in the tall weeds of the field and made sure the sky was clear before once again running for the mountains. The lack of daylight and some jagged rock formations provided cover for our fleeing group. As we reached the foot of the nearest mountain, a hidden door made of rock slid open. An armed soldier waved us into the cave.

We hesitated for a moment, unsure. Shelters were provided by assignment only. Of course, realizing that a battle was still raging and we needed some protection, our group entered the mountain hideaway. A second soldier said very little as he directed us farther into the cave.

After walking for a long while, we entered an area where hundreds of other people were already gathered. Another soldier walked to the front of the crowd and addressed the people.

For your safety, we are asking that you remain here, at least for now!

We were asked to be seated. We sat on the ground made of sand and were given bottles of water and nutrition bars to eat. Our group consisted of adults, children, and some pets. It soon became apparent to everyone that this attack had been expected.

We stayed in the hideaway for a long time. Deep inside that mountain no sound of a battle could be heard. However, periodically the ground shook. For a time, contact with the outside world was lost. There were no signals available for cell phones or any communication devices. During this wait, we were given items for personal hygiene. The action was an indication of a long stay.

‘How long has this place been here?’ I thought to myself. Then, after what seemed to be days, or even weeks, the soldiers asked each person for some form of identification. There was another waiting period after which the group was directed into a different area farther into, and then down under the surface of the mountain cave. This area was like a large camp site that offered a means of underground travel. We endured another waiting period.

People were starting to get anxious and weary. The soldiers were hard pressed to keep order. They were polite, but there was something strange and different about these soldiers. Turns out, they were bots.

Fights among the survivors occurred regularly in the camp. Rumors began to spread that the rations were starting to run out.

Finally, names were called and those individuals were asked to board transit cars. The cars left the area at intervals. Although its origin was unknown to me, that was a sophisticated underground transportation system.

When my name was called, I entered a car. The inside of it looked very much like an old-fashioned twenty-first century rapid transit car. There was no light beyond the headlights of the vehicle, and battery operated lamps placed inside the car. The same kind of lamps were placed in the holding area, and also lined the rock walls near each stop along the monorail’s route.

The railed transit car made frequent stops. Names were called and those individuals exited the car. Judging by the speed of the transit, the stops seemed not to be far apart. Finally more names were called mine among them a group of about eight people walked to the door and exited the vehicle into a long, artificially lighted corridor. The walls of the corridor were formed by the mountain.

The group moved ahead until we encountered another gathering of people.

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