The boatman? Why?
She gasps, stumbles back. The image vanishes. Just static.
You know her?
The only sound: the wind, and a low, electronic hum rising from the floor.
She mutters into a Dictaphone.
He looks toward the dark corridor leading deeper into the observatory. From its depths, a faint electronic pulse begins to sound.
(breathless) Event repeated. 23:47 GMT. Source… deep. Not geological. Acoustic. Like a heartbeat.
A floorboard creaks behind her.