All of it ran back, through my grandfather’s patient decades of quiet structuring, to the box now open on Douglas Wright’s desk, and to me.

Chapter 7 — The Drive

But the ownership was not the part of the box that made my grandfather a prophet.

That was on the drive.

Mr.

Wright loaded the small black drive onto a secure terminal, and it opened onto something my grandfather had assembled with the same care he had given the trust: a record.