MONASTERY OF MODEM MONKS

Every visitor leaves something behind.

The ceremony never truly ends.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

All timelines merge here.

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

Prophecies fulfill themselves.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

Your consciousness has been backed up.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.