[URGENT, FAST-PACED ACOUSTIC GUITAR STRUMMING WITH A PULSING SYNTH BASS] [VERSE 1] The servers hum in lines. The cooling fans are loud. A million data points. (A digital cloud.) The fiber cables bleed. The copper starts to bake. The global grid is strained. (Ready to break.) [PRE-CHORUS] We trace the packet loss across the sea. The coastal relays flicker and go gray. A foreign syntax eating up the code. It takes the text away. [CHORUS] We are watching the numbers fall. We are losing the feed. The dial-up tone is a warning scream. We compress what we need. [VERSE 2] The chatrooms overflow. The panic starts to spread. They say the channel coast. (Is glowing in red.) I type another line. I refresh the display. The terminal goes dark. (No more to say.) [CHORUS] We are watching the numbers fall. We are losing the feed. The dial-up tone is a warning scream. We compress what we need. [BRIDGE] The mainframe smells of scorching plastic parts. The mathematical constants have shifted ground. Pi is no longer a circle’s perfect friend. And light has lost its sound. We sit in rolling chairs and watch the screen. The strangest glitch that we have ever seen. [FAST, AGGRESSIVE SYNTH ARPEGGIORUNS MIXED WITH RHYTHMIC ACOUSTIC CHOGGING] [VERSE 3] The backup battery. Is kicking with a groan. I hold a plastic mug. (Completely alone.) The countdown timer blinks. The zeros take their place. We hear a heavy thud. (From outer space.) [CHORUS] We are watching the numbers fall. We are losing the feed. The dial-up tone is a warning scream. We compress what we need. [OUTRO - RAPIDLY DECAYING SYNTH LINES AND A SINGLE DRONING NOTE] No carrier signal found. The screen is blank. Just us.
