The item museum was dark, dim and empty. Its wide stone doorways had been closed to visitors for hours now, and only a faint wash of moonlight flooded enough light to see the priceless art and treasures on display. Zoemer strolled down the hall of ancient Sakhmet artifacts in the darkness, his keys jangling softly at his side. Zoemer could feel the eerie ominious stare of the paintings as he walked forward in the darkness. The entire museum was dead quiet; not a whisper to be heard. Zoemer's footsteps echoed in the wide and high hall as he turned a final corner and arrived at a musty oak door. The words 'CURATORS OFFICE' stared back in tarnished bronze letters mounted on the door. Turning a rusty gold key, Zoemer slowly opened the hefty door and stepped inside the dark room. His familiarity with this workplace led him towards a corner of the room, where Zoemer flicked on a small musty lamp. A dim, flickering light illuminated a messy desk strewn with papers and the area it enveloped, but much of the room remained hidden in dark shadows.

Ignoring the shadows behind him in the room, Zoemer settled in the patched worn chair and took a small brown paper parcel from his pocket. It had been sent from one of Zoemer's distant relatives, Inzi. Brushing aside the random papers and the latest Neopian Times issue, Zoemer focused the lamp's feeble rays onto the package. Peering in the dim light, Zoemer noticed and wondered for the first time why the package had been address to him through the museum post office rather that his personal address. Curiosity piqued, Zoemer broke the package seal and took out a letter written in frail cursive on thin parchment. Pausing a moment, Zoemer listened carefully for silence in the musuem, and then, satisfied, began to read.

Zoemer,

As you well know, our family has held many treasures over the years. As I was treading upon my attic several months ago, I stumbled upon a secret - something not even I had expected to see. This knowledge I had acquired led me upon a new quest; to locate a lost heirloom that had been created centuries ago, but never recovered. While it is true that this treasure may have been destroyed over the time, the piece of knowledge I discovered ensured that it was well hidden and preserved. Upon learning this, I prepared to begin a journey to locate this treasure, for it would aid the study of the past in numerous ways. However, I was not secretive enough. Through the talks of others, I learned that another secret force has been trying to locate our heirloom as well - to sell, for mere greedy profit. These enemies have targeted me in spite of my efforts to keep this secret quiet, so it is to you I send this. Beware, for the family is not without enemies. They could be coming as soon as now, and as well as I know, this mail may have passed through more hands than yours. They have means greater than I would risk, but this knowledge and the key to the heirloom must not be lost. I despise having to put you in such a potentially dangerous position, but you are our last hope. You must use that of which I have sent, and locate the heirloom before it is too late. It must not fall into the wrong hands. They are coming, and I must flee. There is much more I could say: my story, my discoveries, but I cannot risk the time. I send this to you in greatest hope; use it with cleverness and intelligence. You must not fail.

Yours truly, Inzi.

The steady tick-tock on the wall clock coincided with Zoemer's heavy breathing. He blinked and re-read the burden now entrusted upon him with widening eyes. Abandoning the parchment into the mess on the desk, Zoemer reached into the package and pulled out the content. It was a delicate silver case, highly polished with a catch to keep the contents within. Clicking it open, Zoemer found the inside to be a soft red velvet inset, upon which lay an organized arrangement of what appeared to be sixteen computer chips. The chips were securely placed in the bottom of the CD-player sized case, arranged as if it were a puzzle. Looking closely, Zoemer could see the fine assortments of wires and cables that composed each of the individual sixteen chips.

As scruntinizing as they were, Zoemer was broken from his daze by a loud thump in the hallway. Instantly alert, Zoemer softly moved to his feet and reached for a heavy book. Turning off the lamp, the room softly faded into the darkness of the rest of the museum. The thumps grew louder. Zoemer quietly stepped to one side of the room, firmly grasping the book should he need it to defend himself. With sudden precision, the doorknob of the office rattled and the door burst open. Frozen to the spot, the last thought that struck was this knowledge must not be lost...