The Package (story continues here)

Gwen exited the bathroom in a black sweatsuit with her hair wrapped up in a towel. Her morning routine was simple normally. She'd shower, get dressed, heat a breakfast sandwich in the microwave, and get some coffee from the brewer her roommate starts up before going for her own breakfast. Then she'd slip off to the gym to use the rowing machine. After returning from that, her many projects would consume the rest of her day, with a snack break or two of course. She liked her routine, it was comfortable and neat.

This morning was different though, she was very particular about the state of her work desk and her eyes were drawn straight to the small box perched on the top of it next to her VR glasses. The wrapped brown package with its white and blue label slapped on the top did not belong and it bothered her. It was approximately 16 inches square so it did have certain elegant symmetry she conceded, still it wasn't supposed to be there. The rest of her day would have to wait, the box had to be dealt with.

Gwen carefully approached the desk. It was more a workbench honestly, with a sturdy steel frame and solid oak surface. Her web server, work computer, and a spare were all mounted under the surface in a rack system, which left the top for hands-on jobs. She reached past the box and grabbed her cyberpad from the side. The CP had started life as an iPad Pro but she'd long since made it hers. Gwen had spent many hours disassembling, upgrading, and reassembling the tablet to handle various tasks. It was now stuffed with a mishmash of components that served her purposes but she was certain Tim Cook wouldn't honor any warranty the device might once have carried. It booted up quickly and reported a successful wireless connection to her work computer. Gwen smiled.

She quickly frowned looking at the package label though. Gwen had a few outstanding things on order but this was obviously different. It was from a courier company and normal suppliers used the package companies, couriers charged a pretty penny. The address label worried her most of all. It was addressed to VS and of course, all her supplies came to Gwen Christenson. It seemed obvious this one was addressed to Viktoria Scriptchilde and she was not happy to see reference to her nom de guerre on that brown little box in the least.

Gwen used the tablet to take a picture of the shipping label and track the company down. It took practically no time at all to find that Franklin Bonding operated out of NYC and handled express deliveries there. They also shipped from Gotham to 12 different international locations. None of those places were anywhere near the university or Princeton, NJ. That meant this was a specialty trip and they likely charged the NJ entity a fortune to break their routine and get it here. Unfortunately, the return address was empty except for the city and state. No person's name, no company name, no ID it all... just a barcode added above the city and state by Franklin. Scanning it with the pad just generated a 16 digit number that meant nothing to Gwen. Someone wanted her to open the box for more information and that annoyed her. She absolutely detested surprises. Surprises meant control of a situation was in another person's hands and that wasn't how she liked to operate.

Another quick check showed their insurance was up to date and they were licensed to operate in NY and NJ. She even tracked the courier ID stamped on the top to find the name and picture of the average-looking fellow tasked to deliver it. No scams to be found on a quick search either that worked anything like this. She had to conclude someone had found her and was demanding her attention. She had **** but to open the damn thing and get to the bottom of it. At least if it was a bomb Bridget was elsewhere she thought. She put her glasses on, powered them up, and folded the right screen over her right eye. Then she made sure they reported a solid connection to the computer before starting the built-in camera to capture the opening.

Gwen carefully cut the brown wrapping paper away with a utility knife. She stepped back as she pulled the top open just in case something happened but of course nothing did. It was then Gwen heard the dorm room door open. She looked over her shoulder and watched as Bridget walked in.

Bridget looked totally comfortable as usual. She was wearing her baggy knee-length shorts and a matching t-shirt, both in the school colors of orange and purple. The fact she'd had her light blonde hair cut the night before into a cute pixie bob reminded Gwen that basketball season was almost here. Not that she was into basketball, sports weren't her thing. Bridget on the other hand was a fanatic and would spend a lot of her free time during the season playing pickup games. At 5'6" Bridget wasn't making the school women's team, but she'd never miss attending a game, men's or woman's. It was a passion for her. She put her cafeteria tray on her bunk and turned her piercing gray eyes in Gwen's direction.

"So Brainiac, is that the Q-36 Space Modulator you ordered?" Bridget giggled, thinking her joke pretty clever.

"Brainiac is a bad guy who exists to get his ass kicked by Superman, Bridge. I'd be smart enough to stop after the first beat down," Gwen shrugged while she peeked into the box.

"Anything cool?" The blonde asked as she sat on the bed picking slices from the bowl of fruit salad on the tray.

"Looks like a bunch of packing material so far to me," the brunette replied. "I didn't order it though so it has me a little suspicious."

Bridget laughed, "Silly, it's free stuff! Dig it out of there and see what you have. Maybe it's jewelry, gold, or something cool like that."

Gwen walked over to Bridget's bed, stole a cherry from her salad bowl, and popped it in her mouth. Then she looked back over at the box.

"The courier company that delivered it from New Jersey is licensed in a half a dozen countries and doesn't even normally come anywhere near here. Someone paid a lot of money to get it delivered and I don't like the way those details all fit together. Those types of people shouldn't even know I exist," Gwen offered as she walked back over to the bench. "Did the guy make you sign for it?"

"Yep," the blonde replied. "Delivering to 'VS' really didn't make any sense to him but he had a headshot of both of us and said he could let either sign."

Gwen shook her head and offered another frown as she reached into the package.

"Maybe some rich playboy saw a picture of you on the internet, fell in love, and sent you a present to profess his heartfelt devotion! Maybe it was a yearbook picture from the college website? The pictures the guy had looked like they may have been blown up copies from somewhere like that," Bridget declared right before she started in on the fruit in earnest.

"Oh please. I guess he fell for two women and decided whoever signed for the delivery was the one? I've watched enough romcoms to know those types are stupider than a sack of turnips but usually not that bad," Gwen replied rolling her eyes.

She began carefully removing the packing and stuffing it in the wastebasket in the corner of the room. Bridget watched as Gwen reached into the box and gingerly lifted a black wooden case out of the corrugated cardboard shipping package. She nudged the box off the desk and onto the floor with her elbow, then placed the case where it had been on top of the large anti-static pad that covered the bench. Both girls saw a letter-sized envelope taped to the top. Written in neat block letters on the front of the envelope were the words "Open First".

Gwen looked over at Bridget, who glanced up from her meal excited.

"Well open it silly. It might be time-sensitive like an invitation to a royal ball or something. I have dibs if there are two tickets!"

Gwen laughed.

"If that's what it is and there are two tickets, you can have both. We'll just tell them VS was the blonde."

She held the envelope up to the light and flipped it carefully. Once Gwen was convinced there was nothing dangerous about it, she tore the top open and emptied the contents on the desk. Both watched as a folded piece of paper fell out along with ten crisp $100 bills.

"Holy shit!" Bridget exclaimed. "Looks like the prince included enough money to get a nice dress! Are we sure VS isn't the blonde?"

Gwen sighed.

"Stop it with the stupid fairy tale shit, Bridge. The money is gonna have a big string attached I'm sure and yes I'm 99% certain this is meant to get my attention."

She carefully stacked the bills on the back of the bench, unfolded the paper, and read the short letter to herself:

VS,

I will not waste your time and will get straight to it. My name is Roger Braswell and I own Braswell's Basics LTD. You should now have in your possession three items: This letter, $1,000, and a black box. The money is for your time because I consider it very valuable and the box is to facilitate a conversation.

I would like you to open the box and turn on the device therein. You should see only two icons on the screen, Skype and the texting software. In the phone book, there is only one number, mine. I would like you to message me a date and time we can speak via Skype. The service has 1 hour's worth of credit on it for the meeting. Yes, I fully expect you'll cover the camera but I'd prefer to do the meeting with it anyway. You don't seem to mask your voice, so I should recognize that from Youtube. I don't think $1,000 for an hour meeting is too shabby. If you refuse, please message that instead and I will send someone to fetch the device, letter, and money. I promise to leave you alone when I get them back.

I look forward to speaking with you,

RB

She carefully folded the letter up, slid it back in the envelope, and picked up the case. She rotated it getting a feel for the weight (light), the material (some sort of dark hardwood), and the fasteners (two hinges on the back and a latch on the front).

"I'm dying over here, Gwen. When is the party?" Bridget nagged as she walked over.

"It's just some rich guy that offered to pay me $1,000 for an hour-long meeting," the brunette replied shaking her head.

"I bet he just wants an hour to sweep you off your feet!" Bridget giggled.

"Just stop that crap!" Gwen's irritated voice retorted.

"So where are you meeting? A cafe in Paris? A pastry shop in San Fran? We're going to have to get you a nice dress," Bridget mused as she started walking back and forth deep in thought.

"It'll be here, on Skype and I still have to schedule a time," Gwen answered absentmindedly as she put the black box back on her desk. Then she took her sandwich from the freezer, put it in the microwave, and started pouring a cup of coffee.

"Oooh! I want to listen!" The blonde said turning toward her with a smile on her face.

"No and I'm not sure a meeting is even going to happen," Gwen replied as she put her sandwich on the desk next to the box and sat down.

"Why not?" Bridget asked in a confused tone.

"He could be a freak or something. God Bridge, the world is a fucked up place," the brunette replied as she sipped on her drink and continued speaking between bites. "I figure I have about 24 hours to look into this guy and company before I reply. I need to see if I can get an idea of what he wants to talk about. If that goes alright and a quick backgrounder clears him, I might agree to do it."

"Don't be a chicken, Gwen. This could be the chance of a lifetime!"

"Maybe Bridge, maybe," the brunette murmured as she turned the camera off and swallowed the last bite of her sandwich. She got up, stretched, and walked to the bathroom. There she tossed the towel in the hamper and tied her hair back with a purple scrunchie. Then she walked back out to the main room.

Gwen sat down in a worn brown recliner, put the coffee on a small table next to it, and got comfortable. Then she folded the left screen down so both her eyes were covered, and started tapping on the tablet. Bridget watched for a second and rolled her eyes.

"Why can't you use a laptop like the rest of us?"

"This is faster and more comfortable," Gwen responded.

"Fine, potato on the chair then," the blonde tossed the box in the garbage and grabbed her empty tray and backpack. Then she strode out of the room leaving her roommate alone to research. She knew Gwen would be no fun at all until she was done poking around the web. Maybe she could find a pickup game in the quad?