Signal Desert is not on any floor plan. It is a server hall the Architecture stopped counting: endless rows still powered, still processing, in a wing that fell off the map when the grid re-indexed itself and never added it back. Fans turn. Lights blink in sequence. Nobody has walked the aisle in years, and the aisle does not seem to have noticed.
This is the Ghost Layer's home ground, the frequency the Architecture files as silence. The scan sweeps the wing and reads nothing worth logging, so nothing is logged. The hum continues in a room that officially does not exist. Fog pools on the wet floor between the racks. The signal keeps transmitting, patient, to no one at all.
The Architecture cannot see everyone, and the dead frequency bands are where the Ghost Layer lives. Signal Desert is one of those bands made physical: infrastructure the grid owns on paper and lost in practice. If Glass Towers is the floor the scanner watches perfectly and finds empty, Signal Desert is the floor the scanner forgot it had, and it was never empty at all.
Nothing here was built by the Ghost Layer. They simply occupy what the map dropped. Neural Sands reads these dead bands like weather; Ghost Signal is the transmission that predates the scanner and still runs the aisle; Static Bloom is the soft radio wash that fills the space where a record should be. None of them announce themselves. The hall keeps their silence.
Wind in the antennas, soft radio static, the hum of machines in a space that officially does not exist. One hour inside the dead band, synthwave for the signal that keeps running after everyone stopped listening.