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ascertain; but the lead investigator on this case theorized—if you give me a moment . . .” And Wellington’s voice trailed off as he flipped to earlier pages, his fingertips selecting tabs marking various key points of the investigation. “Yes, here, Agent Heathcliffe Durham believes the House of Usher held the outpost for a much longer period, possibly dating back to Columbus’ first crossing. He recommended that further investi—”
    â€œThank you, Agent Books,” Doctor Sound interrupted. “I do believe you have illuminated our colonial pepperpot here quite adequately.”
    Agent Braun’s lips moved as if to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Only for a moment. “Director, if we have access to these resources, why are we not using them more often in the field?”
    â€œBecause these resources, as you would believe them to be, Agent Braun, still remain unknown to us.” Doctor Sound replaced the lid on to the chestnut box. “I allowed access to the Gate Keys as this was a return trip for us in the Ministry to the Triangle. Whenever we do tap into these resources, we do so with great caution and responsibility. Unlike some agents in this organisation, Agent Brandon Hill exudes infallible traits of control, trust, and reason.” He paused, his eyes remaining fixed on Agent Braun. A few moments later, he continued. “We investigate the odd, the peculiar, and the unknown; and that investigation continues when time allows here in the Archives. Does it not, Books?”
    â€œNaturally,” Wellington said, turning to the interface and returning the case back to its shelf with the push of a key.
    â€œTell me again, if you please,” Agent Braun began, “exactly how far back do these Archives go?”
    Doctor Sound waved an admonishing finger, “Have you never been down here for research?”
    Before she could answer, Wellington chimed in with, “No, Director.”
    Both Braun and Sound turned to him.
    â€œI believe,” Wellington said, thankful for the shadows of the Archives, “I would have remembered Agent Braun visiting here.”
    â€œDirector, if you recall, my former partner tended to be old-fashioned. I’m sure he would have found this place unsuitable for a lady of my delicate disposition.”
    The tiny “ Yelp! ” escaping Wellington’s lips caused both of them to start.
    Clearing his throat, the Archivist motioned deeper into the chambers. “You asked, Agent Braun, about how far back the Archives go. If you please?”
    They continued to the far wall where the shelves’ plaque, like the others, caught the gaslight:
    1840
    â€œThe very beginning,” Doctor Sound murmured, his own pride evident.
    â€œYes, Director,” Wellington added. “The Ministry’s first year. These were extraordinary steps to walk in, I assure you.”
    His smile dimmed slightly at Braun’s furrowed brow.
    â€œDo you not see?” He motioned at the massive shelves towering around them. “We are standing in the very origins of the Ministry. Before you, I, and even Doctor Sound here winked into existence, brave souls began what would become—”
    â€œMy job, Books,” Braun retorted, her own enthusiasm notably lacking. She then turned on Doctor Sound, her back now the only visible thing to Wellington. “This is all well and good, Director, but I fail to understand how a tour of the Ministry’s basement will make me a better agent in the field.”
    Doctor Sound went to speak; but it was Wellington’s voice, now carrying an entirely different tenor from before, that answered. “We learn from the past.”
    Braun smirked. “Really? I thought history was written by the victors.”
    â€œThat may very well be, but what I do down here is carry on the work and preserve the voices of those who lived it. And it is their case work, their