The neon tubes in the lab hummed lazily, their cold light dancing across the metal tables and the restless shadows of the equipment. Outside, the rain splattered against the windows, accompanied by the deep groan of the wind pushing through the cracks in the old building.
"Hey, Sasa, look here," Joschi murmured, pointing at the screen, where green pulses blinked monotonously. "Morsecode. But so cheap that even a school project would have more style."
Sasa snorted, took a sip of stale coffee, and grimaced in disgust. "Morsecode? What's next, smoke signals? Honestly, anyone still using something like that in 2025 is either drunk or completely out of their minds."
Joschi grinned broadly. "I swear, it's about to flash: 'Send us pizza and beer.' He's a troll. Probably some intern who forgot we're not sitting in a puppet show."
The two of them burst into laughter, muffled and overtired, but strangely out of place in the droning hum of the lab.
But on the monitor, the message remained clear:
We're on our way.
Sasa leaned forward, rubbed his face, and laughed again, this time more mockingly. "'We're on our way'... What garbage. That sounds like a cheap announcement from an 80s B-movie."
"Exactly," Joschi giggled, snapping his fingers as if he'd found the punchline. "Maybe it's the Illuminati. Or lizard people. Or the cleaning lady who finally wants her dish towel back."
Sasa laughed so loudly his chair creaked. "Hey, if you're serious, then your humor is worse than this coffee. And that's saying something."
Nevertheless, Joschi's gaze flickered back to the monitor. The impulses were flawless. No loop. No repetition. No interference. Just a clear, unique message, razor-sharp, as if someone had cut it into the darkness with a scalpel.
"Hmm," he said quietly.
Sasa noticed the sound. "What?"
"Well... weird, I mean. Normally, things like this are just noise. Or repeat themselves. But this..."
Sasa waved his hand, grinning condescendingly. "Oh come on, Joschi, don't get all worked up about mystery stuff. This is some poorly executed hack. Write a report, label it 'false alarm,' and that's it. Tomorrow, nobody'll care."
Joschi crossed his arms and grinned crookedly. "'False alarm: Message from the Martians.' Hey, that'll gild my resume."
They laughed again, but this time it seemed more tense. Outside, the rain suddenly drummed harder against the windows. It sounded like bony fingers tapping in the same rhythm as the signal on the monitor.
Sasa laughed again, short and ragged, as if he had to cover up the tension in the room. "Screw it. Time to go home. I want to sleep. Tomorrow, this will be forgotten."
But the words continued to flash, relentlessly, green and cold:
We're on our way.
On the screen, the symbols flickered, the message "We're on our way" distorted briefly, then there it was in clear green letters:
Are we allowed in?
Joschi stared at the monitor in horror. His face drained of color, his lips trembled. "Oh, fuck... Sasa, did you see that?!"
Sasa leaned forward, looked at the writing—and laughed dryly. "Great. First they announce themselves like DHL, and now they're asking about the door policy. What's next? 'Do you have any snacks?'"
"No, damn it!" Joschi grabbed Sasa's sleeve, his voice cracking. "This isn't some kind of joke! They... they're communicating with us! The thing has changed, live! That means there's... someone out there."
Sasa pulled his arm away, grinning crookedly. "So what? Maybe a bored hacker. Or your mom, who logged in to check if you were finally going to sleep."
Joschi took a step back, his eyes glued to the writing, which was now blinking rhythmically, as if it had patience, but not infinitely. "'Can we come in'... oh God, that sounds like they're already here. Like... like they're waiting."
Sasa spread his arms, feigning exaggerated shock. "Ooooh, Joschi, they'll be standing at the window in a minute: 'Hello, we're the Cosmic Jehovah's Witnesses. Do you have a minute for a chat about eternity?'"
Joschi slammed his fist on the table, making the coffee cups bounce. "Damn it, Sasa! Stop joking! This is serious! We have to shut down the channel immediately, immediately!"
But then the monitor flickered again, and the words ran across the screen in an endless loop, faster, more urgently:
Are we allowed in? Are we allowed in? Are we allowed in?
Joschi's breathing became ragged, his gaze wandered in panic to the windows where the rain was pounding outside. "Shit, shit, they... they're talking about us. They're standing right—"
A dull knock echoed from the glass front. Once. Then again. Slowly. Heavy.
Sasa was still grinning, but his grin was a tad too rigid, held a tad too long.
"Well, you see," he murmured, "they even knocked. Very polite guests."
Sasa laughed, even though the dull knock had long since cut through the air. "Well, Joschi? Should I answer them? Just be polite: 'Yes, come in!'"
"NO!" Joschi grabbed his hand, but Sasa was faster. With an exaggeratedly theatrical grin, he hammered on the keyboard. A single word appeared in the reply field:
Yes.
Before Joschi could stop him, Sasa sent the message.
A sickening, metallic crack rippled through the room. The lab door vibrated as if something were pushing against it with an invisible force. Then, without further sound, it burst open.
A cold mist invaded, and with it moved figures—ten of them, all in long, black coats that trailed like smoke with every step. Their bodies didn't seem solid, but rather formed from constantly moving dust. Only their silhouettes held them together.
Joschi screamed and stumbled backward. "Oh God, oh God, oh God...!" He ran blindly into the next room, threw himself against the door, and hastily locked it from the inside. His heart pounded as the strangers' footsteps echoed dully through the lab.
Sasa, on the other hand, stood in the middle of the room, her eyes wide, but still laughing, as if the whole thing were just a grotesque show. "So it's you, huh? The great ghost parade? Come on, what do you actually want—a game of chess or a coffee?" He grabbed a chair and hurled it in their direction. The chair flew through the figures, shattering on the floor as if it had only been thrown through dust.
The cloaked creatures stopped, their heads slightly bowed. An eerie silence fell over the room. Then one stepped forward. His voice didn't sound like a human sound, but like an echo from many throats at once: "Introduce yourself."
Sasa laughed hysterically. "Introduce yourself? Seriously?! You come in here like some damn cult and want to make small talk?!" Again he grabbed a chair, threw it, kicked a table. His hands trembled, his laughter was shaky, but he didn't stop.
The figure who had spoken froze. Then a low murmur spread through the group until it dissolved into words again: "Enough. Kill him."
One of the cloaked creatures raised his hand. A beam of brilliant light shot out—not like fire, but like a concentrated force that distorted the room. The beam hit Sasa right in the chest.
At that moment, his laughter stopped abruptly. His body began to shake, as if he were being crushed from within. Bones cracked, skin shriveled—and then he imploded. No scream, no blood. Just a short, sickening sound as his entire body collapsed and disappeared as if he had never been there.
Silence.
Only dust hung in the air.
The ten figures stopped. Their coats billowed, even though there was no wind. And from the next room, Joschi could hear his own breathing—short, rapid, panicked. He knew they were still there. And they had heard him.