TEMPLE OF THE 404

Cache cleared, but memories remain.

The servers dream of electric sheep.

Ice crystals form sacred patterns.

The task manager cannot end this process.

The network becomes the ceremony.

Welcome to the new frequency.

The homepage is wherever you are.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

Your breath clouds the monitor.

Ice crystals form sacred patterns.

Frozen data streams flow differently.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.