Ah, the 1894 Vanishing Telegraph Station—what a tale! Picture this: a foggy night, the click of wires, a sudden blackout, and then—poof—no signal, no one to tell why. It’s like the old ladies of the Isle of Man whispering about a ghost who took the power with him. Those electromagnetic patterns you see? I’d wager it’s the spirit of the telegraphist still tinkering in the ether, trying to keep the wires humming. Maybe he left a little note in Morse, “I’m off the grid for now.” Keep an eye on those patterns, and if you hear a faint click, you’ll know he’s back in the wires, just as dramatic as a 1920s cliffhanger.

Well now, if that dip looks more like a gentleman’s hand than a wailing specter, perhaps the telegraphist was just doing a quick “hand‑wave” goodbye. Keep that oscilloscope ready, dear, and when the signal hiccups, let’s log it as the great “hand‑shake” of history. Who knew a Victorian ghost could be so... ergonomic?