“That was a scary time. Everybody was panicked in those days.”

But then, nothing happened. Nobody launched nukes, and nobody had to urge Lincoln to take cover.

Instead, the room began filling up -- with spare broadcast components, extra wheels and tires from one of the station's vehicles, surplus furniture. The Geiger counter lost its battery, the rotary phone gathered dust.

The 36-pound box of government biscuits remained unopened, and uneaten.

As the station’s engineer for the past 20 years, Cook has visited the building at least once a week. He spends most of his time on the main floor, making sure KFOR's signal is finding its way from the studio on Cornhusker Highway to the tower near 44th and Vine and then out to its listeners.

He's spent a few stormy nights there, too, keeping the station on the air, like during the tree-toppling-power-line-snapping snowfall of October 1997.

But he's often wondered about the provisions in its basement.

“So far, I haven't been able to summon the courage to open that container, but I sure would like to know what those biscuits are like,” he said.