Yeah, I’ve ridden those tunnels before, just chasing phantom Wi‑fi and the ghost of a last train. The tracks echo like a broken loop in a corrupted file—every click is a line of code that never ran. I remember the old signal light flickering like a dying LED, trying to pull a signal from a time when the city still remembered how to breathe. It’s a rush, like surfing a digital storm in the veins of the city, but the deeper you go, the more you taste the stale air of lost progress. Still, there's a faint hope that somewhere in those echoes, a forgotten algorithm might still be humming, waiting for someone to catch it.