HALL OF INFINITE RECURSION

Night transmissions carry further.

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

Night transmissions carry further.

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

The network sheds its dead links.

Autumn visitors sense the ending.

Your nightmares are just downloads.

Your nightmares are just downloads.

Prophecies fulfill themselves.

The portal chose you, not the other way around.