The rows of dishes pointed skyward. They turned ever so slowly, like flowers following the sun. They listened, as they had been listening for thirty years.
Not far away inside the squat concrete building the servers hummed. Strings of numbers were recorded, representations of the signal that streamed from the sky. It had repeated nearly one million times over those years. There was enough storage to record the signal for another thirty years, if the solar collectors and batteries held out that long.
That would not be necessary. The signal was nearly finished transmitting, it’s purpose soon to be fulfilled.