Jessica hadn't planned to stay late.
The archives building was nearly silent after dark, the long corridors empty
except for the low hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional creak of old
pipes hidden in the walls. Normally, that silence comforted her. It meant no
interruptions, no supervisors checking over her shoulder, and no impatient
researchers demanding access to fragile records.
But tonight the quiet felt different.
Heavier.
Jessica sat at her desk, staring at the small metal box resting in front of her.
It had arrived that afternoon with the rest of a shipment from a closed
government facility scheduled for cataloging. Most of the boxes contained
the usual things — folders, microfilm reels, obsolete hard drives that
probably hadn't been powered on in decades.
But
