The panel hums in a dead language now

I'm standing in a substation that shouldn't exist anymore, and every breaker hums in a dialect I almost know. My hands are younger here, no ache in the knuckles, but the wiring diagram is written in a script I can't read. I keep tightening the same lug and the hum just gets sadder, like the whole building is trying to sing something it forgot. Then my foreman from 1993 walks past and doesn't recognize me, and I wake up with my palm flat on the wall like I was checking for a pulse.