They dialed in the feed. The waveform on the screen pulsed like a distant lighthouse. At first, only the faintest trace: brushes whispering against cymbals, a rimshot ghosting the edges of silence. Then the drummer’s presence broadened, filling the room as if he had stepped through the glass. Microphone character, room ambience, cables and small unpredictable human quirks all stitched together over the stream, perfect in its imperfections. When the drummer counted in, the click track and the remote groove snapped into lockstep — a tightrope walk over an ocean of milliseconds.