Mid May brought with it a meeting that could change everything.
A private researcher reached out, claiming to have uncovered similar devices around the globe.
I was skeptical at first—so many had shown interest only to fade away. But his message was different, detailed, insistent.
“What if he’s just another dead end?” I wondered aloud one evening, the words hanging between us like a question yet to be answered.
My grandfather sat back in his chair, considering. “You won’t know unless you meet him,” he replied, ever the practical thinker.
The meeting was set for next week, and I felt the world closing in, the attic’s secret ready to burst into the open.
As I prepared for the meeting, I couldn’t help but think about the life I once had—a quiet existence now overshadowed by expectations and intrigue.
I hadn’t told my grandfather everything yet. The weight of that silence felt like a storm gathering on the horizon.
“Do you trust him?” my grandfather asked one evening, breaking my train of thought.
“I’m not sure,” I confessed. “But we need answers.”
