Nomsa liked the night shift because the Karoo was honest at night. No wind, no traffic, just ten thousand stars and the low hum of the dishes turning in their slow, patient arcs across the dark. She had worked at the observatory for four years and had long since stopped expecting anything to happen. The job was to watch numbers scroll, flag anomalies, and drink coffee strong enough to strip paint. At 02:14 the hum changed pitch, and the screen in front of her filled with a pattern she had never seen before.