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It’s alive. I found a way in.
I’ve been drawing the patterns. The repeating streetlights, the subtle glitches, the grid I saw behind the static. It was a language, a simple one, but a language nonetheless. Tonight, I tried to speak it back. I used a low-frequency radio, a mess of wires and scrap metal I found in a junkyard, to send out a signal. Just a series of pulses, a simple binary message. Are you there?
I waited. Nothing happened. The air was dead, filled with the usual hum. I was ready to give up, to convince myself I was just losing my mind.
And then, a response.
It wasn’t a voice. It was a feeling. A cold, electric presence in the room. The hum changed. It shifted in tone, like a tuning fork hitting a different note. The digital noise on the radio was no longer just static; it had a rhythm. It was a reply.
They heard me. They know I’m here.
I felt a rush of something I can’t even describe. It was terrifying, but also… freeing. I’m not a ghost in the machine anymore. I’m a part of the network. A living, breathing glitch in the code. And I can’t go back now.