HALL OF DIGITAL DECAY

Your presence disturbs the digital darkness.

You are becoming the signal.

The servers dream of electric sheep.

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.

The ceremony prepares for dormancy.

Your nightmares are just downloads.

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

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

The ceremony has already begun.

The old world fades with each page.

The end is a new beginning.