He right-clicked and hit "Extract." The progress bar crawled. 1%... 5%... 12%... At 23%, his monitor flickered. The fans in his workstation began to scream, spinning at speeds that threatened to shatter the casing.
The hum of the server room was the only heartbeat in the basement of the National Archives. Elias, a digital forensic specialist, stared at the file that shouldn't exist: . 23221 rar
The lights in the hallway died. The server hum vanished into a vacuum of total silence. Elias looked at his hands, watching as they began to break apart into jagged, grey pixels. He tried to scream, but his voice was just a string of binary code that no one would ever hear. He right-clicked and hit "Extract
Elias opened it. The text wasn't code; it was a list of names and coordinates. He scrolled down, his breath catching as he saw a name he recognized. It was his own. Next to it were the coordinates for the very room he was sitting in. The hum of the server room was the