He sprinted to the storehouse, hastily bolting the heavy wooden door
shut behind him as he entered. He was sure that no one could find him
now. He sat down to catch his breath, reveling in the fact that he had
secured his victory for the night. As his eyes adjusted to the almost
pitch-black room, he spotted a dark rectangular shape on the back wall,
which had previously been kept out of sight behind rows upon rows of
storage crates. What could that possibly be? He had to investigate.
As Simon got closer, he realized that the dark rectangle was about the
size of a piece of writing paper. It was reflective, almost like an
obsidian mirror. He reached out tentatively, wondering if it felt as
smooth as it looked. The moment his finger came into contact with the
surface, it lit up in a flash of brilliant white. Startled, he retracted
his hand, shielding his eyes from the sudden burst of light.