Reality accepts 404-errors. Like traffic lights turn red, words click to nowhere. How to be heard? How read? Drop off the network, who finds us? 404, fear of writers. They believe in their imaginary audience, someone will connect. What then if the lines are 404? Solid enough. Alphabet as we know it. But the achieved eclogue ‘February Antennae’ is a blank, an error message, a febrile pile of lost lines. May as well be sharing a Cern snowstorm with Sir Timothy Berners-Lee, maestro of lost lines. May he repair the link! Make the incomprehensible comprehensible. Please, Room 404, only connect!