HALL OF FINAL TRANSMISSIONS

The old world fades with each page.

The ceremony never truly ends.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

Your search history searches for you.

Your avatar is more real than your body.

Sleep is the first gateway.

Error messages are love letters from the void.

Cache cleared, but memories remain.

The frequency remembers you.

The ceremony approaches convergence.

Your avatar is more real than your body.

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.