In the relatively short amount of time that Empress Eve and I have been running Geeks of Doom we’ve had a multitude of stuff just show up in our mailbox. Some of these packages have been pretty geeky cool, like the one-of-a-kind props sent to us by the animators of the upcoming stop-motion feature Coraline. Others have been hard to swallow, like the cans of unreleased soda for us to sample (get it? Swallow… I make a pun). So yeah, some downright diverse shit just shows up in our mailbox on the daily, and after a time we started calling these unsolicited mystery packages Doom Deliveries, a moniker that works on multiple levels.
Well, this Tuesday brought one of the more intriguing Doom Deliveries to date. The intrigue began with the circumstances of its arrival, which took place as I was out for a lunch break. When I returned to my office there was a small metal briefcase on my desk, the kind with a numerical tumbler lock. The one thing that immediately tugged at my stomach was that it wasn’t in a parcel that had been mailed to me, but had been seemingly hand delivered — this in disregard to the fact that my office door was locked and I work in a moderately secured building. I had taken notice there was a small manila envelope taped to the top of it with simply “Dave” handwritten on it, but being me, I ignored it and immediately tried to open the lock with one of the old standards. 666 (ala Pulp Fiction), 911, 411, 212, 718, 917… nothing. That’s when internal Dave said, “Okay, genius. How about you open the envelope?” Well, that and “‘What‘ ain’t no country I ever heard of. Do they speak English in ‘What’?”
Inside the envelope was a handwritten letter which contained both instructions and a warning. It started off by informing me that my name was found on a list at some place called “Armacham,” and that someone from there will be contacting me soon to participate in a “Fear Lab.” But this letter and locked briefcase, which is signed off by only an “R”, has apparently been sent with the intent of stopping me from becoming involved in this ‘Lab.’ Unfortunately, the letter didn’t contain the combination to the lock, but rather instructions to publish a photo of the case and then await the combination to be posted to the forums of a specified site by “Case Man.”
Obviously, I’m thinking incredibly clever viral marketing (spooky, but clever), yet should I chose to take it at face value then it all adds up to a very Matrix-esque moment in my life.
Well, ‘R’, I’ve done my part. It’s your move.