Entering the door reveals another set of stairs. These spiral a bit downwards, so you can't see the bottom. You hug the wall for support- the way isn't long. At the bottom, you walk into something vaguely familiar- a small room that resembles the workplace your Grandparents set up in the garage. There is a table in the center, holding a computer, and various wrenches, screwdrivers and hammers- cabinets with power tools and wires. Cluttered, but organized to someone. It's like being taken through a memory. Where once you couldn't reach the top of chairs, and would be sitting on your Grandfather's shoulders, he whittled away at some gadget- when your Grandmother would sit you down on the counter as she clicked away at a computer. It reminds you of how your mother would let you sit in her office, quietly, as she worked.
You look towards the computer on the table. Perhaps it still works?