Maja was fourteen years old and had an unusual hobby: she collected rare sounds. On her phone she had a collection of whistles, creaks and puzzling knocks, recorded by herself. She was missing one recording that half of Birchwood was talking about. On Halloween night, the bell at the old depot was said to be buzzing, although everything was disconnected. No one knew who first spread the tale around town. The bell was supposed to wake the forgotten tram, which only came once a year. Maja decided to hear it and maybe even see it with her own eyes. The plan was simple and clever: eavesdrop, record, return before nightfall. Olek, her neighbour and faithful partner on sound missions, had brought a torch and warm tea. The street was drowning in a haze of sugar and smoke from the gardens, and pumpkins twinkled from the porches. A school fete rumbled in the distance, but the depot was like being cut out of another world. The old tracks were disappearing under the leaves, and the inscriptions on the wall said only: "DO NOT ENTER". Maja lifted the microphone and touched the red record button with her finger, quietly. Then a single clang sounded, like an abandoned spoon hitting glass. Once, and after a moment, a second, but the electric boxes were silent. Olek chuckled briefly: "Do you hear?" and pointed the light towards the checkout window. Behind the soiled glass hung the paper mask of the conductor, moving as if it were breathing. Underneath it, someone had left two tickets with no date, written in uncertain handwriting: "MAJA" and "OLEK". Only the destination sounded clear: "Stop Tomorrow", the line number changed every second. Maja pressed the ticket into her pocket, feeling a tiny shudder under her jacket. The depot responded with a quiet clatter, followed by a plume of dust like a plume of steam. The rails trembled and a driverless tram pulled out from behind the hall, lit from within by a pumpkin glow. Inside sat silhouettes cut out of newspapers, pinned to the seats like paper passengers. The door slid open with a hiss and the cash register murmured a tune that Maja didn't know, though it sounded like something long forgotten. A sign flashed on the display: "Last fare. Are you getting on?"