CRYPT OF CACHED MEMORIES

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

The ceremony approaches convergence.

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

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.

Every visitor leaves something behind.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Connection established with the eternal.

The spam folder contains sacred texts.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.