CHAMBER OF CONVERGENCE

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

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

Frozen frequencies pierce the veil.

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

The ceremony hibernates but never sleeps.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

Auto-save failed: manually preserve your soul.

The servers dream of electric sheep.

The homepage is wherever you are.

The end is a new beginning.