you don't.

"The residence is fully furnished and will accommodate you and your ****, it is equipped with the latest of **** ownership technology working under the acclaimed area sensitive A.G.A.T.H.E. system.

"Your future **** will arrive shortly. It is a horrible lowlife as our central A.I determined. In the house you will find a fully fledged explanation as to how this works, albeit the A.G.A.T.H.E. system will assist and inform you sufficiently anyhow."

Before you can utter any word or rather stammer of confusion the delivery she spoke of does arrive. A truck halts at the gateway and two guys use a dolly to cart a suspicious wooden crate inside. You and Mrs. Smith follow them into the plain yet modernly furnished house, you really can't pay to much attention to it, at the center is a living/kitchen area. The crate is dropped there and Mrs. Smith signs a number of forms, then the workers scurry out.

Mrs. Smith sighs heavily, a run of transactions comes to a close, she slaps the roof of the crate.

"This badbo.... I mean... So, Ray, that's about it, if you have any further questions, my phone number is here, you can write me a mail, you can ask for help at any time, really it would be no trouble ."

"Ma'am, I... I am afraid you may have made a horrible mistake, you see..."

~Shut up, you moron, me, myself~

"... I'm really not the great person you make me out for..."

They would find out, anyway...

"Why yes you are humble at least, aren't you. Ray, our software doesn't make mistakes, you know. Justatron2000 determined you to be the model citizen we were looking for. Determined by quantum computation it simulated a dual trial, legally adjudicating your vantage, whilst placing a conviction upon your future **** by the state of..."

"Um, alright, sure I..."

"Look, I have the court documents right here. they proof the validity of the court rulings."

She hands you a squall of comical fax paper.

"Ahem, yes, but suppose I weren't exactly... Suppose I should have been the one, who should have been enslaved, while, uhm... whoever is in that box... where from did you just get those papers?"

"Look ray, it's a dual hearing with entangled legal functions what happens to one trial will affect the other you must understand this. If we find out, you in reality are a no good, two-timing scoundrel... well the verdict has already been made. Look kid, haven't you ever heard of the term ne bis in idem?"

"Okay."

"Fine, so, the oxygen is starting to run out, you should probably open that crate, boy. Or don't, that's your thing now. I got still a lot to do today, I'm gonna check on you in couple of days."

"Mrs. Smith...?"

"Ray."

You shake hands formally, and she leaves you. You stare at the crate. In this shocking turn of events a sneaking suspicion has yet to be confirmed, a palpable thought as to what, or whom, might inhabit this very person sized box. Dead panned, you take the crowbar, that's been stapled in a neat plastic bag to the side of the crate.

*Crack*

You take a step back as the wall falls to the floor, revealing the crate's full content.

Not because of hate, but rather for the shear absurdity of the situation and a concrete sense of imposter-syndrome, you feel like you want to use the crowbar to smash in the the head of the person that dozes in front of you now.