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“We found a time capsule dated 1975, but the items inside were from 2025.” The words on the laptop, glaring back at Hugo, still seemed surreal. He never imagined that when he received the call about the capsule that had been unearthed unexpectedly, the discovery that awaited them would be.&nbsp;This is how his written word of history started.&nbsp;Construction for the new pavilion had been underway when a backhoe blade struck something metallic. The crew, unsure of what they’d found, had contacted the police. A careful excavation followed, revealing a surprisingly well-preserved metal cylinder despite decades underground. After a quick consultation with the mayor, Sheriff Brody contacted Professor Hugo Fischer from Bentonville College. Professor Fischer, a man whose enthusiasm for history was only matched by his unruly grey hair, had seized the opportunity. He was Bentonville’s resident historian, a man known for his meticulous research and unwavering commitment to historical accuracy. This time capsule, however, would challenge everything he thought he knew. He gathered his team: Maria, the town archivist; Jay, a history student specializing in the American post-war era; and Chandler, a student focused on the social and cultural impact of historical events. A small crowd, including townsfolk and local media, gathered in Bentonville’s town square to witness the time capsule’s opening. The metal cylinder was set up on a platform for easy access. The inscription ‘Bentonville Centennial Time Capsule—Buried 1975’ was visible on the slightly rusted metal. The atmosphere was filled with curiosity as they prepared to unlock the contents. The crisp autumn air, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and woodsmoke, hung heavily over Bentonville’s town square. A small crowd, a curious mix of townsfolk and local media, had gathered in the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows across Templeton Park, and the crowd gathering for the opening of the time capsule was not large. A smattering of curious townsfolk, some clutching lawn chairs, others holding squirming children, mingling with the local news crew, their camera glinting in the fading light. They were all there to witness history, or at least, a glimpse of it. The freshly unearthed metal cylinder had been set up on a platform so Professor Fischer and his people could easily open it. And here they were, gathered around the freshly unearthed metal cylinder, the anticipation thick and palpable. The ‘Bentonville Centennial Time Capsule—Buried 1975’ inscription was clear and bold, contrasting with the slightly rusted metal. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the promise of unlocking a forgotten era. The capsule was unremarkable: a simple, slightly rusted steel cylinder bearing a faded plaque commemorating Bentonville’s bicentennial. As the town’s mayor, a jovial man named Robert Miller, used a ceremonial shovel to carefully lift the capsule from its resting place, a murmur rippled through the crowd. The tension in the square was almost tangible as the capsule was carefully raised, placed on a sturdy wooden stand, and Hugo felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation. Painstakingly, he’d reviewed the town’s archives but found nothing about the capsule or burial. He could not reconstruct the events of the capsule’s burial, no newspaper story, no record of a community or group that made and buried the capsule. And now he had a nagging sense of unease growing since it had been found. “Alright, team! Let’s see what secrets our predecessors have bequeathed us.” Professor Fischer declared, wiping a smudge of dirt from his round glasses. “Let’s be careful. Maria, I want you to document every single stage of this opening. Chandler, get your camera ready, full spectrum if possible. Keep an eye on the overall context. Maria immediately began setting up her tripod, meticulously arranging her brushes and archival paper. Chandler, meanwhile, was bouncing on the balls of his feet, fiddling with his camera. “Think we’ll find some bell-bottoms and lava lamps, Professor?” he asked, his voice brimming with youthful glee. Jay, ever the voice of reason, stroked his chin thoughtfully. “More likely political pamphlets, energy crisis news clippings, and possibly some Bic lighter ads. Remember, 1975 was a tumultuous year.” Professor Hugo nodded. “Who knows? This isn’t just about nostalgia, it’s about understanding. Now, let’s get this baby open.” He gestured towards Jay, who carefully attached a power drill to the capsule. “Jay, if you would?” The cylinder was surprisingly heavy, and the decades spent underground had cemented the lid in place. Jay began to drill into the metal with practiced ease. The sound, amplified in the quiet park, drew a collective gasp from the crowd. The drill bit whined, metal screeched, and it felt as if the entire park held its breath momentarily. Finally, with a pop and a hiss of escaping air, the first hole was complete. “Careful now, Jay,” Maria cautioned, her voice sharp with concern. “We don’t want to damage anything inside.” Slowly and deliberately, Jay worked around the circumference, creating a series of holes that Professor Fischer carefully widened with a small pry bar. With a final heave and the groan of rusty hinges, the capsule yielded. The lid came loose, revealing the time capsule’s dark interior. The air, instead of smelling of must and decay, carried a faint, sweet scent – something floral and almost artificial. The crowd leaned forward, craning their necks to get a better look. A collective murmur rippled through the crowd as Professor Fischer reached inside the rusted metal cylinder, his hand disappearing into the echoing darkness. Tension hung in the air, thick with the anticipation of relics from 1975. The town of Bentonville had gathered to witness the unearthing of their past, a snapshot of bell-bottom jeans, rotary phones, and perhaps a pet rock or two. Instead, resting on faded velvet was impossible. First, Professor Fischer extracted a sleek, slate-gray laptop computer. Its screen was dark, but a charger lay nestled beside it.&nbsp;A small, silver flash drive, its label almost illegible but discernible enough to read, “Project AGAM” in black marker. And finally, a thick, cream-colored envelope, its contents sealed with what seemed to be a modern wax seal bearing an unknown crest, addressed to “The Finders.”. The contents were not what he expected. Hugo’s heart skipped a beat. The contents were not what he expected. “This... this is impossible,” Maria gasped, adjusting her glasses. The librarian was Bentonville’s meticulous record keeper, and breaking her paradigm was mind-blowing. How could those items be in a time capsule from 1975?” Chandler scratched his head. “A laptop and flash drive? In ’75? That’s some serious science fiction.” Jay was stunned by the contents of the cylinder. “Professor, how is this possible?” Initially, buzzing with excitement, the crowd was now a sea of perplexed faces. The air crackled with disbelief. Andrew, a reporter from the county newspaper, elbowed his way forward, microphone in hand. “Professor Fischer, is this... is this all a hoax?” The accusation hung heavily in the air. Doubts began to ripple through the crowd, questioning the time capsule and its authenticity. Sheriff Brody, a man of action, stepped forward. “Alright, folks, let’s not jump to conclusions. Professor Fischer, Maria, Chandler, and Jay, I will need you all to accompany me. We’re moving this whole shebang to the civic center. We need to examine this closer, in a controlled environment.” Within the hour, the civic center’s community room had been transformed into a makeshift research lab. The laptop, flash drive, and envelope were meticulously arranged on a sturdy table, bathed in the sterile light of fluorescent lamps. Chandler had charged the laptop.&nbsp;After what felt like an eternity, the screen flickered to life. Maria dove into researching wax seals, determined to identify the crest on the envelope. Meanwhile, Hugo carefully plugged the flash drive into a borrowed laptop. The only file on the flash drive was “Project AGAM.” Inside was a single video file. Hugo clicked play. A grainy image filled the screen. A man with tired eyes and short, choppy hair stared out. His voice was raspy and urgent. “My name is Professor Alvin Cromwell. If you’re watching this, it means we failed. Or, rather, we haven’t failed yet, not if you act. We’re scientists, and we attempted to create a time machine. We got it to work, but where we landed was not where we were supposed to be. The end of 2025 came and went, and those in power turned the United States into a dictatorship. They stripped women, minorities, and anyone who wasn’t a white man of their rights and dignity. The US was thrown into chaos. It became like a third-world country. A resistance group was created, but we needed to go back to stop it before it began. That is when we got the idea of using the time machine. We failed; we landed in 1975. This video is for whoever finds this time capsule. Find her, Colbie Dunlap. She is the key. She knows what is coming. Show her this flash drive. She knows what to do.” The video ended abruptly, leaving them in stunned silence. “This... this is...” Jay stammered, his instincts struggling to process what he’d just witnessed. “Unbelievable” “It’s real,” Hugo said, his voice barely a whisper. “It must be. This laptop, this flash drive... the video. It all points to something incredibly real.” Maria, having finally identified the crest, let out a gasp. “It’s a Dunlap family crest, an obscure lineage, but undeniably Dunlap.” Hugo carefully opened the sealed envelope. Inside, a single sheet of paper revealed a Bentonville address. Next to the address was a command written in bold letters: “SHOW HER THE FLASHDRIVE.” “We have to find her,” Hugo said, tracing the address with his finger. “Colbie Dunlap.” A collective breath escaped their lips. The weight of responsibility settled upon them, heavy and profound. Chandler, ever the pragmatist, broke the silence. “Alright, so we find this Colbie Dunlap. We show her the flash drive. Then what?” “Then we try to stop this,” Hugo said, his eyes burning with determination. “We owe it to the future, to the people who sent this back, to ourselves.” They packed the laptop, the flash drive, and the letter without a word. Knowing what they had to do. The fate of the future might very well rest on their shoulders.

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PROJECT AGAM

LilithGrace

Lilith Grace

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PROJECT AGAM

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