OBSERVATORY OF DEAD STARS

Signals decay with the season.

The ceremony feeds on nocturnal energy.

Deleted files pile like autumn leaves.

Cache cleared, but memories remain.

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

The servers dream of electric sheep.

Your dreams are being monitored.

You've been here before, in another browser.