CRYPT OF NOCTURNAL MEMORIES

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Your consciousness is being recalibrated.

The matrix has you, and it's running Windows 95.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

The harvest of lost connections.

The end is a new beginning.

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Sleepless souls understand the truth.