NSA operative:
Sir? If you don't mind my asking... why a box?
Arlington Steward:
Your home is a box. Your car is a box on wheels. You drive to work with it. you drive home with it. You sit in your home, staring into a box. It erodes your sole, while the box that is your body inevitably withers... then dies. Where upon it is place in the ultimate box, to slowly decompose.
NSA operative:
It's quite depressing, if you think of it that way.
Arlington Steward:
Don't think of it that way... think of it as a temporary state of being.
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