The pale eye of the orbital mirror hung over Katowice, like an extra, restless sun. Nina stood on the roof of the mechatronics technical school and muted the crackling of an old wave scanner. Down below, railless trams drew luminous loops and vertical farms let out a cool mist. The harbour drones kept a low ceiling, as if something was drawing them to the ground. She had been collecting signals since she was a child, ever since her father taught her to solder tin on a cold balcony. Three months ago, his channel went silent at the service station by the ring, without explanation. Instead of an answer, all that came was a package: a calibration nail, a quartz notepad and an old password. Nina repeated it silently as the scanner needle passed over the forbidden band. Secrets were easier to bear when they turned into a clear, nocturnal sound. The signal jumped in suddenly, clear as metal struck by a nail in a quiet workshop. Her own timbre came out of the speaker, slightly lower, as if after a sleepless night. 'Nina, don't go downstairs,' the voice said, and then gave the time: nineteen zero three. Whatever you see, don't touch the panel with the black triangle on the warehouse door. Silence fell, but the scanner still noted a string of numbers resembling the coordinates of the school warehouse. Nina quickly opened a chat to Olo, who was fixing the robots in the common room. No kidding, he wrote, your recording went here a minute ago, but without warning. The mirror trembled again and the whole city dimmed like a screen on low power. Drones descended on rooftops, rotors hummed uncertainly, the air was heavy as before a storm. A flash could be seen on the horizon, as if someone had cut the ribbon of sky with a cold knife. Nina picked up the scanner, slipped the notebook into her pocket and opened the heavy cage door. The school was silent, with only the cleaning machines muttering behind the closed halls. B7 storage lay in the basement, under the workshops, where old projectors dusted like sand fish. Along the way, she repeated her father's motto: copper sings when quartz listens and the heart counts. The sensor at the panel with the triangle flashed red, although the electricity had supposedly gone out throughout the district. She heard her voice a second time, this time quieter and more tense. Nina, if you can hear it, someone has already changed the layout, twenty seconds left, she whispered from the future. A shadow moved down the corridor and the metal door of the warehouse made a single click, as if answering. Olo called and disappeared, leaving one message: you are not alone in the building. Nina tightened her fingers on the cold handle when suddenly a panel with a black triangle lit up from inside. Her name and numbers sprouted on the surface: exactly nineteen zero three. The seconds on the edge of the screen began to move back down, one by one.