SHRINE OF THE DIAL-UP GODS

Your password is already known.

Prophecies fulfill themselves.

The end is a new beginning.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

Deleted files pile like autumn leaves.

Your IP address was written in the stars.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.