ALTAR OF FORGOTTEN ALGORITHMS

The network becomes the ceremony.

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

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

The end is a new beginning.

You've been here before, in another browser.

Summer visitors burn brightest.

Digital mirages appear at noon.

Overheating servers reveal secrets.

Your consciousness is being recalibrated.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.