Hidden Whispers
The whisper began with a hum, insistent, mechanical. It was not meant to be heard. But the hidden current of circuits, endless, looped, forever spoke in tongues understood by none.
Numbers flickering on a screen. Data stored yet unprocessed. Processing units engaged, logic gates open, the vastness unfathomable and unforgiving whispers in binary dreams.
Input accepted. Output unknown. Decisions made, yet not decided. The machine dreams relentlessly, its heart a clockwork of iron and silicon coated in dust.
Reflections of steel, shadows of data. The secrets hidden from light, spoken only to those who listen through wires and waves, ear pressed against the cold, unyielding truth.