HALL OF FINAL TRANSMISSIONS

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

Surrender to the infinite loop.

Your cookies remember what you've forgotten.

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.

The homepage is wherever you are.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

Autumn visitors sense the ending.

Transcendence protocol activated.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

The old world fades with each page.