Three figures gather in the low glow of a humming monitor, its phosphorescent symbols casting jagged light across their faces. Dean's silhouette is rigid before the screen, his reflection warped in the glass. Lynn and James hover behind him like shadows, their hands clenched and eyes darting. The air smells of overheated circuitry and stale coffee. Something vital flickers on the edge of comprehension in those cascading glyphs—something they aren't meant to see.
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