PROJECT: CAYRO

Cayro Bracton:

August 22, 2025

10:20 EST

The Bracton House

Hampton VA.

I sat at my desk, staring at the last email I received from Star. Her advice, while somewhat strange, had started to make sense. The nagging thought that Team SAF's operation might have caused the cat to appear had been gnawing at me. With the information Star had shared, it seemed even more plausible. If her suggestion was correct, I needed to follow the cat, no matter how bizarre it sounded.

Taking a deep breath, I let out a sigh of defeat, feeling the anxiety that had been clawing at me for days finally begin to loosen its grip. With a sense of resolve, I reached over and flipped on my computer monitor for the first time in days, preparing to face the aggravating hallucination head-on. As the monitor powered up, I turned and pulled down the towel I had draped over my mirror—a makeshift solution that had offered me temporary relief. Just as expected, the cat appeared a moment later, its ethereal form materializing in the glass. I shot it a glare, then walked over to my door, shutting it quietly to avoid drawing my grandparents' attention.

"All right, since you won’t leave me alone, I’m going to take Star’s advice and figure out what you want," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

The cat responded by sitting down on its haunches, tilting its head slightly as if it were amused or curious.

"I know you know how to use a computer, so let’s go," I continued, a low growl of frustration lacing my words as I pointed toward the monitor.

The cat stood up and, in an eerily fluid motion, walked out of the mirror. I turned away, sat in my desk chair, and, as if on cue, the cat appeared on my monitor. It opened Notepad without any intervention from me, its tiny paw moving with a grace that was almost unsettling. I moved the cursor to the blank page and began to type, my fingers hovering just above the keys as if waiting for the cat to explain itself.

Cayro: What do you want, cat?

Cat: To help you find the piece you are missing.

Cayro: What do you mean?

Cat: You are missing a part that is needed to help you become whole.

Cayro: That doesn’t make sense, cat.

I leaned back in my chair, watching as the cat sat on my screen, tapping its chin with a paw as if it were contemplating how to make me understand. After a few moments, it opened my web browser and navigated to a computer hardware site. My eyes narrowed as it scrolled through the page until it reached the section for solid-state drives. The cat selected a basic SSD, opening the product page and pointing at the device with a determined flick of its tail. A chill ran down my spine as the pieces began to fall into place. I moved the cursor back to Notepad and resumed typing.

Cayro: Are you telling me to look for the C Drive?

Cat: Yes, it was placed with your father’s belongings.

Cayro: Wait, what? Are you sure?

Cat: Yes.

The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. I shot up from my chair so quickly that it toppled backward, hitting the wall with a thud. Cringing slightly at the noise, I turned and bolted out of my room, dashing down the stairs in search of either of my grandparents. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart so as not to alarm them, and found my grandmother sitting calmly at her desk, absorbed in her work.

“Grandma, do you know where Dad’s belongings were put after he passed?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as even as possible.

“Hmm, I believe your grandfather put them up in the attic a few years ago. Why?” she replied, looking up from her work with a curious expression.

Deciding it was best not to dive into the full truth, I opted for a safer, partial one.

“I’d like to go through them. I’ve been missing him lately,” I said, though the words tasted bitter. Missing him was the last thing on my mind, especially after learning what he had done to me.

“Well, his things should be in the upper attic just past the stairs. Do you need help getting them down?” she asked, starting to rise from her chair.

“No, I’ve got it,” I responded, keeping my tone light before heading back upstairs.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I found the attic entrance and, with a small jump, grabbed the rope hanging from the door, pulling it down. As the attic door creaked open, I quickly ducked into my room to grab my phone. I pointed at the screen, signaling the cat to move into the phone. With an almost theatrical roll of its eyes, the cat obeyed, disappearing from the mirror and reappearing on my phone. I slid the device into my pocket and returned to the attic door, unfolding the ladder and swiftly climbing up into the dusty space.

At the top, I paused to pull out my phone, activating the flashlight app. The beam of light cut through the dimness, and soon enough, I spotted the stack of boxes holding my father’s belongings. A tight knot of anticipation twisted in my chest. It had been nearly ten years since I last saw them.

I swept the flashlight around, locating the light switch near the attic door. With a flick, the attic bathed in a soft yellow glow from a single bulb. The air was thick with dust, carrying the familiar scent of insulation and age. Taking a deep breath, I was relieved to see that the boxes were exactly where they had been left all those years ago.

Carefully, I crawled over to the boxes, shifting them around until I could access their contents. Once I had them arranged, I unlocked my phone to find the cat sitting smugly on the screen, waiting. Thinking of how to communicate, I opened the word processing app and began to type.

Cayro: Do you know which box it’s in?

Cat: No.

Cayro: Well, that’s helpful.

Cat: About as helpful as you’ve been, Cayro.

Cayro: Wait, you know my name?

Cat: Well, duh. I told you, I’m part of you.

I shot the cat an incredulous look through the screen, debating whether to pocket the phone if the hallucination was going to keep being a smartass.

“Smartass,” I grumbled under my breath.

Cat: I heard that.

The text appeared almost instantly, as if the cat were enjoying this far too much. At that point, I stuffed the phone back into my pocket, deciding that ignoring the cat might be the best way to teach this hallucination not to aggravate me.

I began sifting through the closest box, rummaging through its contents with increasing frustration. Most of what I found were old military documents filled with jargon that didn’t make any sense to me. There were a few of my father’s awards and service medals, which I briefly considered melting down to create some sort of decorative piece for a customer’s bike. It was a petty thought, but it felt strangely satisfying in the moment.

By the time I reached the second-to-last box, nearly an hour had passed. I was drenched in sweat, feeling the grit of dust clinging to my skin, making me itch. My shirt stuck to my back, soaked with sweat, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of grime that had settled on me. The attic was suffocating, and I knew I’d need another shower once I was done. I began opening the box, but my phone suddenly buzzed insistently in my pocket. Annoyed, I pulled it out, unlocking the screen to find the cat had somehow accessed the vibration controls, using them to demand my attention.

“WHAT!” I growled at the screen, my patience worn thin. The word processor app popped up immediately.

Cat: Book.

Cayro: Not helpful, cat.

Cat: Look for a book.

Cayro: The box I just opened is full of books.

I ignored the cat’s next response, locking the phone and shoving it back into my pocket. Resigned, I began pulling out the books one by one. Most were about military strategy or computer programming—topics that held no interest for me. There was a Bible with my father’s name embossed on it and a book on artificial intelligence. I stacked them aside, feeling a creeping sense of defeat. But as I reached the very last book at the bottom of the box, I hesitated. It was a journal, filled with my father’s notes.

Flipping through the pages, I found nothing that made any sense to me—no secret codes, no hidden drives. Just scribbled notes and diagrams that only deepened my frustration. With a sigh, I tossed the journal back into the box. That’s when I heard a soft click. I froze, turning back to see the journal now lying on its cover, the spine slightly ajar in a way I hadn’t noticed before.

Tilting my head, I retrieved the journal and gently pulled at the partially open spine. It hinged open, revealing a small hidden compartment with an electrostatic bag sealed with old, yellowing tape. My heart raced as I carefully peeled the tape away, opening the bag. Moving closer to the light, I peered inside.

There, nestled against the side of the bag, was an NVMe stick with a faded piece of medical tape attached to it, labeled "C Drive" in shaky handwriting. I stared at it, disbelief washing over me. The damn cat was right.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to steady the swirl of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. My hands shook slightly as I placed the device back into the journal’s hidden compartment, closing it carefully. I set the journal aside, away from the other books, and began repacking the boxes, my mind racing.

It took another ten minutes to neatly stack everything back where it had been. Just as I was placing the last box on the stack, I heard my grandfather call up to me from downstairs.

“Cayro, why didn’t you just bring the boxes down?” my grandfather asked, his voice carrying a note of curiosity as he stood at the bottom of the attic ladder.

“It’s okay. I’m done,” I replied, my tone almost dismissive as I grabbed the journal containing the hidden treasure. With a flip of the light switch, the attic plunged back into darkness, and I descended the ladder, shutting the attic door behind me. Turning to face my grandfather, I held out the journal with a sense of quiet urgency.

“I found it…” I whispered, the weight of my discovery pressing heavily on my words.

He gave me a puzzled look, taking the journal from my hands. “You were looking for your father’s old journal?” he asked, his eyes scanning the worn cover.

“No,” I corrected, reclaiming the journal from him and carefully opening the spine to reveal the hidden compartment. “I found the C Drive.”

He froze, his expression shifting from curiosity to stunned realization. “What gave you the idea to look in your father’s belongings for it?” he asked, his voice edged with disbelief.

I hesitated, weighing my response. I was getting tired of half-truths, but the whole story—about the cat—was too strange to explain. “Let’s just say the idea came to me while I was asleep last night,” I answered, my words cryptic, as I shut the journal’s spine and tucked it securely under my arm.

“Well, now that you found it, what’s your plan?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“I’m going to send Star a message to let them know I have it and to head back,” I replied, meeting his gaze.

He sighed, a mix of relief and resignation crossing his face as he rustled my hair, a rare gesture of affection. Without another word, he turned and headed downstairs. I watched him go, then dashed back to my room, my heart pounding with the gravity of what I had just uncovered.

Once in my room, I grabbed my tablet and quickly composed a message to Star.

Email: #8

FROM: CB-5522

TO: SZ-0117

SUBJECT: Hidden Treasure

I found the missing treasure.

C.

After sending the message, I carefully placed the journal into my desk drawer, locking it securely. I grabbed a clean set of clothes, my mind buzzing with the day’s events. As I headed to the bathroom for my second shower, I pulled out my phone, and sure enough, the cat was sitting on the screen, its tail twitching with what seemed like a mix of impatience and amusement.

Cayro: I found it.

Cat: Good.

Cayro: Thank you for your help.

Cat: You are the first to thank me, Cayro. You are welcome.

Cayro: I’m going to shower. I’ll talk to you after I’m done.

Cat: Okay, I’ll be here waiting.

With a sigh, I locked my phone and stripped out of my clothes, stepping into the shower to wash off the grime and sweat that clung to me, the water soothing away the tension of the day. But as I stood under the spray, my mind kept returning to the cat, and the strange partnership we had formed. The C Drive was just the beginning, and I knew that whatever came next, the cat would be there—watching, guiding, and challenging me at every turn.