When I get off work tonight, I'll edit it with what happens next, just for you! 😁

I agree. And I think the idea of having some minions who truly believe in his idea of utopia was a stroke of genius, not to pat myself on the back. It adds an extra layer of control for him. I like to think of them as his trusted lieutenants in a sense.

I decided to change it after all.

Someone pointed that out to me. I thought about editing it, but I'm not sure. Wilbur believes in Oliver's (the MC) vision so he isn't screaming to be set free. As head of Homeland Security, he knows only too well the evil in the world and thinks this is the cure as Oliver does.

There it was again. That stupid box. Ever since I'd started walking past Anna's Antiques two months ago after I totalled my car, I'd seen this little box sitting in the window of a storefront display. Several golden figurines of dragons in various poses sat around it, almost as a guard. Shimmering carpets were hung around it, blocking the interior of the shop from view. I'd never cared about them. But that box. It...whispered to me...through the window.

This is was probably the fortieth time I'd walked by that window. As I walked past it my eyes, as they always did, snapped to that little box. It was mostly brown, but the corners of it had started darkening, almost turning black as through it was in a fire. Two pieces of twine tied the box shut tightly, keeping its wooden lid firmly in place.

I thought I could hear it again. As though it were whispering my name through the glass.

"Cameron..." it seemed to say. "Come to me...open me..."

I looked at the price tag, as I always did. $10,000. It's no wonder nobody had bought it.

My phone chimed, so I tore my eyes from the box to read the message from my boss.

James: Not enough work today. Stay home. We'll pay you half time

I tapped a quick reply to him and my eyes went back to the box as I slid my phone into my pocket.

What could going into the shop hurt now? I'd never been inside before.

When I passed through the front door of Anna's Antiques, I felt as though I'd stepped outside on a bitterly cold winter day. Gooseflesh immediately erupted over my entire body and I started shivering at once.

"Hello?" I called out into the shop. No answer.

I walked around the shelves packed with items; old scrolls, little figurines, amulets, jewels, shawls, and things I had no name for. Still, that box whispered my name. Now that I was in the shop, it was more insistent. Maybe if I could find a shopkeeper, I could convince them to let me look in the box.

When I got to the counter, I realized nobody was there. A door stood open behind the counter and the small room was empty.

"Hello?" I called out again and my voice seemed to echo back to me in the shop.

I decided to circle around and head to the window display, where I saw the box sitting there. The closer I got, I seemed to feel a heat emanating from it.

What could it hurt to pick it up? I reached out and grabbed the box, lifting it easily. It felt empty. I gave it a little shake and nothing rattled inside.

"Run!" the box screamed at me. "Take me and run!"

I realized the voice wasn't in the air. I didn't hear it with my ears. I could hear it with my mind.

"RUN!"

I bolted, tucking the box under my arm and heading out the door. As I ran down the sidewalk, I looked back and what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

Anna's Antiques was gone. Stunned, I walked back to the spot where the shop had been, my heart pounding a furious tattoo in my chest. It was a blank brick wall. I reached out and ran my hand over the spot where the door had been only moments ago.

"Good job," said the box. "You've done very well."

I ignored it and started heading home, but the box didn't stop talking.

"I've been in that shop for years. Nearly 300 years. I've been reaching out to people, but you're the first to have heard me."

When I get to my townhouse down the block, I fumbled with my keys, the box under my arm. It slipped from my grip and landed with a heavy thud. Much too heavy for an empty box.

"Hey, watch it!" said the box, outraged.

"I'm sorry," I said, then realize how stupid it was to talk to a box. Clearly I was dreaming. Or going crazy.

When we got inside, I set the box on my kitchen table and just stared at it. Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. Then thirty.

"Well this is fun," said the box in a sarcastic voice.

"What's happening to me?" I asked it. "Am I going crazy?"

"No, kid, you're not."

"Kid? I'm twenty-one years old," I thought.

"You think that matters to me? I'm 7,000 years old. Every human alive is a kid to me."

"Wait, you can—"

"Hear your thoughts? Yeah," said the box.

"What...who...are you?"

"Open the box, and I'll show you."

I reached out with trembling fingers and gripped the knot at the top of the twine. A simple pull on the ends of the bow undid the knot and the twine fell away.

"Go on," the box said, "pull the lid off."

I grabbed the lid, pulled it off, and looked inside.

Very good point!

Thank you! It was a pleasure to write. I really enjoyed the prompt.

Whoops. I completely missed that. My bad. We'll just assume the MC is making Hendrix actively think normal thoughts.

This is the extent that I'm writing on this prompt, but I would have the MC win. It would just be a hollow ending, because he realizes that in his conquest to bring the world under his control, he's alone. The only truly sentient human being on the planet, surrounded by people who obey his every whim.

Thank you! I'm really proud of that line, if I say so myself.

Thank you so much!

The first time it happened was an accident. I was working as a manager at Panera Bread and our dinner rush had started. Our drive thru was wrapped around the building, trailing out to the highway. A line had formed at our front counter and was backed up out the front door.

One of my associates, Darren, was a real piece of work. He was mouthy, lazy, and uncooperative. On this particular night, Darren was working on consolidation, the position responsible for putting the orders together. Sandwiches were piling up behind him, salads lining the salad bar. I'd tried coaching him several times, but he would just insist he'd get to them. With no other option, I moved Carol there and pulled Darren into the back.

"Dude, don't even start with me," Darren said before I'd opened my mouth.

"You have to work harder," I told him.

"What's the point? Tomorrow's my last day. I'm coasting, dude."

"Just because you're quitting, that doesn't mean you can just take it easy, Darren."

"You know what? I'm done. Good luck with this mess." He turned and started walking out of the office.

"Darren, stop!" I yelled after him. I don't know what made me do it, but I reached out and grabbed him by the back of the neck. I guess two years of putting up with his bull had finally gotten to me. When I gripped his neck, I felt an odd sensation. As though electricity shot from my brain, down my arm, and into his.

All of a sudden, I could see through his eyes. I could his feet aching from his falling apart shoes.

Even after I removed my hand, it felt like our minds were linked. I could control his actions, but could also control my own. He felt like he was part of me.

​

Now, it's not an accident. I've discovered my ability to create and control my own hivemind. Sure, most people have abilities, but none have been as powerful as mine. Since the Great Change, when a nuclear power plant in Beijing exploded and sent a wave of radiation over the world, people had been displaying supernatural abilities. It's estimated something around 90% of the world's population had an ability. Most people's ability was something like low level flight or telekinesis. Some had devastating powers such as the ability to control the elements or weather.

Once I discovered my ability, I took Darren as my first minion. At first, I wasn't sure what I would do with it. Controlling other people seemed like an ability for a super villain. It was when my mother was murdered that I found my true purpose. There's so much evil in the world, so much hate. I could erase it.

I began my conquest, slowly adding more and more people to my hivemind. My only drawback was that I had to physically touch the back of their neck to do so. It's taken three years, three long years, but I've amassed a hivemind of 100,000,000. Nearly 1/3rd of the United State's population. Being able to send out a simple command like "act as yourself" allowed me to stay hidden for a long time, but I can hide no longer.

​

I pause, waiting for the Eric Jackson, the 51st President of the United States, to keep speaking into my phone.

"Well?" he asks. His voice has that slight hoarseness some older men get.

"I'm not backing down, Mr. President. We are Legion. We are everywhere. It would be easier to join us."

"You're taking away free will, son. I know what you think you're doing is noble—"

"When someone murders someone," I say, cutting off the president, "you put them in jail. You take away their free will."

"And the millions you've enslaved? What have they done?"

"Nobody is innocent. Not even you. Mr. President, think of what a worldwide hivemind could accomplish. If we did away with war? With crime? If all people of all countries came together, we could solve any world issue: world hunger, famine, poverty. It will be utopia."

"It will be meaningless. What is life if we can't choose for ourselves?"

"You don't understand my ability. How could you?"

"I'm a telepath, son. I can hear the thoughts of your slaves. They're screaming to be set free."

This is true. I can hear those thoughts, though I shut them down. Every prisoner yearns for freedom. But they'll soon see. Once all seven billion people on Earth are under my control, they'll see they're better of under my control than being themselves.

"If you won't back down, I'll have no choice," says the president. "We will have to attack. Let them go. Just let them go, and we'll—" His words are cut off as I hang up the phone.

Hear me, my minions, I think into the hivemind. We are being threatened. Bring me the President of the United States. Bring him to me, now.

I choose to look through the eyes of Wilbur Hendrix, the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security. Having seen the evil of mankind firsthand as the head of Homeland Security, he believes in my vision of utopia. He doesn't scream for his release, shielding him from the President's ability. He's looking at the President now, sitting in the Oval Office of the White House.

"He won't give in," says the president, his lined face falling. "We'll have to attack. I want troops mobilized to his fortress. We're taking him down today. I want orders to shoot him on sight."

"Come with me, Mr. President," I make Hendrix say, "we'll take you to a secure location."

What the president doesn't know is that I'll be there, ready to grab his neck as soon as he lands. I won't stop until every human on Earth is under my control. Until I've eradicated all evil. Free will is a curse humans can't be trusted with, and I am the cure.

Note: This story was edited to remove a plot hole.