The spam folder contains sacred texts. |  The frequency remembers you.  | The final frequency awakens. |
The firewall cannot protect you here. | The recycle bin is never truly empty. You've been here before, in another browser. The chatroom is empty but never alone. | Dreams are transmissions from the other side.  |
The modem sings the song of your arrival. The cold preserves deleted memories. | The end is a new beginning. | Every 404 is a door to somewhere else. |