I inserted the key into the lock and turned it.

The lock turned with a heavy, metallic clank.

I grabbed the wheel and spun it counter-clockwise.

The steel door hissed as the vacuum seal broke.

I pushed the door open.

The darkness inside was absolute.

I stepped into the room and shone my flashlight around.

It was a laboratory.

Rows of metal tables, rusted monitors, and glass beakers covered the space.

In the center of the room sat a massive steel computer console, surrounded by filing cabinets.

And then, a soft hum began to fill the room.

The overhead lights didn’t turn on, but a single blue light began to pulse on the main console.

The terminal screen flickered to life, casting a cold, blue glow across the dust-covered floor.

A cursor blinked on the screen.

Beside the monitor, a small metal drawer slid open with a soft click.

Inside the drawer was a single black drive.

And next to it lay a thick, leather-bound binder with my name written across the front in my father’s precise handwriting.

My hand shook as I reached for it.