The clacking sound of switches being pressed echoed endlessly in the secret room, with metallic reeds buzzing rhythmically as connections were made and broken. Invisible signals were sent to the rooftop and transmitted by an antenna disguised as a weathervane, while messages from the Mist Fleet were relayed back into this very room, transformed into the relentless clattering of the relays and a series of methodical holes in the ticker tape.
Nemo, wearing headphones, sat at the desk, listening to the sounds from the headset while restlessly tapping his fingers on the surface. A young girl dressed as a waitress next to him picked up the freshly punched ticker tape from the machine, deciphering the pattern of holes.
After a while, Nemo yanked off the headphones and leaned back in the chair, massaging his forehead as he let out a long sigh.
