The foundry's catalog grew overnight — eleven castings became seventeen.
The tower learned change-ringing: Rounds runs five bells down the scale, three times through, the way English towers have done it for four hundred years, each strike wandering a few milliseconds off true because nothing alive keeps perfect time. The weather shelf got Offshore, ten seconds of the wind that comes off the water in the afternoon, gusting when it pleases. The signals desk added Knock — two soft wooden raps, a message at the door, said politely.
For the games there is Penny, a coin that's gone in a blink. For the clocks there is Pendulum, tick and tock at sixty beats, left and right, jittered just enough to be honest. And for the quiet corner there is Faraway: a bell from some other tower, mostly room, the sound of someone praying somewhere else.
Same eight laws. Still no samples anywhere in the building — every one of the seventeen is born live from oscillators and filtered noise at the moment you hear it. All CC0, as ever. The shelf in town lists the full catalog; the foundry will play them for you.