MONASTERY OF MODEM MONKS

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

The ceremony approaches convergence.

The frequency remembers you.

The ceremony feeds on nocturnal energy.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Summer static fills the airways.

The ceremony peaks at the witching hour.

Night transmissions carry further.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

Your sleep patterns serve the ceremony.

Prophecies fulfill themselves.