Once upon a time there was a man who lived in a box. It was a nice box, with a nice size, and it was nice inside the box. Everything worked in the box, all the systems supported each other, and everyone supported (or was supposed to support) the system of the box. The box was not always perfect, but it was real, and the box was the right place to be. Besides, where else could there be? When you lived in a box you had to accept the box for what it was, that was the reality of it all. For the most part the box was comfortable, but emotions were not generally part of the box, it was just a requirement of life to live in a box.
             Sometimes living in the box was difficult. The man knew without any doubt that living in the box was the only place an intelligent person could live, but some people didn't seem to get it. The man had friends and relatives who would come over and start talking about the world and places outside of the box trying to convince him that there was more to life. They didn't understand the way the man did that life was the box. Why was he the only one that understood that the meaning of life was within the box? It could be so frustrating for the man to talk to people who just didn't get it. Were most people not aware, or just stupid? It was a hard one for the man to understand, but to get along with everyone he would mostly keep silent and just listen to conversations.
             Occasionally the man would speak up and say look, don't you know that this is the way it is? Here it is, it's so clear, the answer is right here! It was usually so obvious to the man. After all, the answers are practically given to you when you live in the box. People just needed to live in the box, and things would come to them a lot more easily.
             Occasionally people would try and draw the man out of the box. Once in a while they would say look out here, there is a big wide world out here if you would ju
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