Professional hamza AI voice for content creation

Dad always told visitors he worked in "data management." It became our inside joke at dinner. We knew the massive satellite dishes behind his office weren't for managing spreadsheets. But that's how it was growing up - everyone had their cover stories.

Dad always told people he worked in "data processing." Pretty vague, right? But that's how it was in our house. The computer he brought home had government stickers all over it, and he'd never let us peek at his screen. Just another normal day in classified family life.

I found an old photograph in my father's study yesterday. The edges were worn, showing a group of scientists in white coats, but their faces were deliberately blurred. On the back, written in faded ink: "Project Echo, 1982. Remember to forget."

While cleaning out my old hard drive, I found a strange encrypted file dated back to 2008. The filename was a series of random numbers, but something about it felt familiar. My hands trembled as I clicked to open it.

Dad always told people he was just a security guard at the base. Simple job, nothing special. But I noticed how he never brought his uniform home, never talked about coworkers. When friends asked, he'd just smile and say "Night shift's pretty quiet."

Dad always told us not to mention mom's work at school. When friends asked why she worked nights, I'd just shrug and say "government stuff." It became normal, like the black cars that sometimes followed us or the strange calls at midnight.

Dad always told people he was in "waste management" when they asked. It wasn't exactly a lie - that's what his ID badge said. But the way the trucks only moved at night, and how he never talked about his routes... well, we knew better than to ask.

The old photograph fell from between the pages of my father's journal. It showed three men in white lab coats standing before a steel door marked "Section 7." Dad never mentioned working there, but then again, there were many things he never discussed.