The smoke went straight up, thousands of feet in the air.

Jack figured the crash was about 8 miles away—but it’s so hard to tell distances on the flat terrain of North Dakota.

No matter. It was clear that the plane was breaking up before it crashed; the debris around them was proof of that.

His little brother breaks the silence. “Jack! I’m taking this!”

“Whatcha got, Alex?”

He holds up a steel briefcase. Somehow it survived the crash. It was clearly built to last. It must cost a fortune—and there might be something very valuable inside. They take it home.

Fifteen minutes, one hammer and one screwdriver later, they open the case. There’s a screen, a keyboard, and some nonsensical letters and numbers printed on thick paper.

Alex starts punching codes in at random; something must make this damn thing work. And then, finally! The screen says “Input Accepted.”

And through the window, they see the launch of 24 Minuteman III missiles on the horizon.

This case held no ordinary laptop.