The black box was in the central server room. He found it easily, a hardened data cylinder nestled in a cradle of sparking wires. As he reached for it, he saw the terminal screen.
He ran.
The hum in his head changed pitch. It became a sequence of notes. Low, then high. Rhythmic. It almost sounded like a song. A song he didn't recognize, but his fingers started tapping against his thigh in time with it. nighthawk22 - isolation midi