CHAMBER 1I5E2P
TRANSMISSION 2/10 READY
Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.
Every visitor leaves something behind.
The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.
The music plays whether you hear it or not.
Deleted files pile like autumn leaves.
Your avatar is more real than your body.
Dreams are transmissions from the other side.
The matrix has you, and it's running Windows 95.
Your screen resolution matches your aura.
CTRL+ALT+DEL WILL NOT SAVE YOU
ACCEPT YOUR FATE | COMPLETE THE CIRCUIT
RETURN TO ENTRANCE