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While cleaning out my old hard drive, I found a strange encrypted file dated back to 2008. The filename was a series of random numbers, but something about it felt familiar. My hands trembled as I clicked to open it.

Dad always told people he was just a security guard. But I noticed how the base commanders would nod at him in town, how he'd get calls at weird hours. Sometimes he'd say, "Just routine stuff," but we both knew better than that.

I found an old photograph in my father's study yesterday. The edges were worn, showing a group of scientists in white coats, but their faces were deliberately blurred. On the back, written in faded ink: "Project Echo, 1982. Remember to forget."

Dad always told people he was just a security contractor. But I noticed how he'd get calls at weird hours, and sometimes he'd disappear for days. When my friends asked, I'd just shrug and say he worked nights. We all understood the unspoken rules.

The old photograph fell from between the pages of my father's journal. It showed three men in white lab coats standing before a steel door marked "Section 7." Dad never mentioned working there, but then again, there were many things he never discussed.

Dad always told people he was just a maintenance worker. But the hours were weird, and sometimes he'd come home looking tired in ways regular maintenance guys don't. The security badges changed colors every month, and we learned not to ask why.

Here's the brutal truth about trust: it's a weapon your enemies use against you. The Romans understood this. Every emperor who trusted his guards ended up dead by their hands. Trust is the poison that kills the powerful. Keep your plans sealed, your intentions hidden.

My research suggests these transformations are irreversible. I've studied countless cases, including my own. The pits change you fundamentally - your body, your mind, even how you perceive reality. Don't pretend you understand what we've been through.