Tap any wire to rotate it into the correct position.
The room hums faintly with dormant energy, its walls lined with frayed cables and rusted conduits. You trace the tangled wires snaking across the floor until your fingers brush a cold metal socket—the bulb’s empty cradle. No light spills from its glass shell, but the generator nearby thrums with untapped power. Tightening the corroded clamps, you thread the copper veins back into place, sparks nipping at your gloves as the circuit stitches itself whole. A shudder courses through the cables, the air sharp with ozone—then the bulb flickers. Once. Twice. Its glow blooms steady, casting jagged shadows where darkness had pooled. The connection holds.
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