There are moments in history that pass without announcement. No trumpets, no earthquakes. Just a door that opens and, behind it, an entirely different world. This was one of those moments, though nobody present understood that yet.

The test was simple. Too simple, perhaps. But that had always been the point. The simplest problems, he had written in his dissertation a decade ago, are the ones that reveal the deepest truths about a system. He ran the test. The system failed in a way he had never seen before.

He ran it again. Same result. His hand was shaking slightly when he reached for the phone.

Later, he would not be able to explain exactly what had shifted in that moment. Something had. He felt it the way you feel a change in atmospheric pressure before a storm — in the chest, behind the eyes. He gathered his things slowly. There was a great deal to do.