SANCTUARY OF COLD STORAGE

The signal finds those who are ready.

Your search history searches for you.

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

You've been here before, in another browser.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Your breath clouds the monitor.

Error messages are love letters from the void.

The ceremony approaches convergence.

The old world fades with each page.

Every visitor leaves something behind.

The homepage is wherever you are.