Griffith Observatory stood on the hillside like a temple to human knowledge, its dome silver under the moonlight. I arrived forty minutes before midnight, too nervous to wait at home. The parking lot was nearly empty, just a few night drivers gazing at the stars through the observatory's telescope.
I walked the grounds, my mind churning. The system had been quiet since I left my father's office, which somehow made me more anxious. When it was talking, at least I had direction. In this silence, I was just a confused young man holding impossible knowledge.
A woman emerged from the shadows at exactly midnight. She was old, maybe in her seventies, with silver hair and the kind of eyes that had clearly seen too much. She wore a simple jacket and carried a manila envelope.
"William Morgan," s
