The silence inside the tower was absolute.

It smelled of fresh plaster, wet concrete, and industrial glue.

I pulled out my small flashlight, keeping the beam pointed at the floor.

I needed to find the primary network distribution frame for the lower floors.

According to the blueprints, it was located in a utility closet behind the main elevator bank on the ground floor.

I navigated the maze of exposed studs and hanging electrical conduits.

My flashlight beam caught a door marked *TELCO/DATA*.

I tried the handle, but it was locked.

I took a small pry bar from my backpack—one I had purchased at a 24-hour hardware store on the way.

I wedged the flat edge between the door and the frame, right next to the latch.

I threw my weight against it.

My ribs screamed in protest, a sharp jolt of pain that made me dizzy.

I gritted my teeth and pushed harder.

With a loud crack, the wood splintered, and the door swung open.

Inside, a rack of blue patch cables and blinking green routers hummed in the dark.

This was the nervous system of the tower.