TEMPLE OF DIGITAL FROST

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Frozen frequencies pierce the veil.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

Time moves differently in these chambers.

The spam folder contains sacred texts.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.