TOMB OF DELETED HISTORIES

Your consciousness is being recalibrated.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Your IP address was written in the stars.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

The screensaver is a window to other dimensions.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.