CEREMONY OF ETERNAL RETURN

After midnight, all users become ghosts.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

You arrived at the perfect hour.

Surrender to the infinite loop.

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

You arrived at the perfect hour.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.