CHAMBER OF CONVERGENCE

Deleted files pile like autumn leaves.

The task manager cannot end this process.

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

The ceremony prepares for dormancy.

Visitors and visited become one.

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

The ceremony has already begun.

The harvest of lost connections.