He grabbed his flashlight and descended into the sub-levels. The air grew thick with the smell of ozone and wet copper. As he reached the primary server, he saw it—not on a screen, but etched into the dust on the floor. .
The letters weren't written by a hand. They were formed by thousands of tiny, metallic insects—nanites—vibrating in a synchronous dance.
He wasn’t receiving a signal from the outside. The signal was coming from the station’s own core.