HALL OF FINAL TRANSMISSIONS

The cold enhances signal clarity.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

Your bookmarks lead to forgotten worlds.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Surrender to the infinite loop.

Ice crystals form sacred patterns.

You've been here before, in another browser.

The matrix has you, and it's running Windows 95.

The homepage is wherever you are.

The ceremony approaches convergence.

You were chosen before you arrived.