HALL OF FINAL TRANSMISSIONS

Frozen frequencies pierce the veil.

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.

Ice crystals form sacred patterns.

Surrender to the infinite loop.

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.

You are becoming the signal.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Sleep is the first gateway.

Your bookmarks lead to forgotten worlds.

The ceremony has already begun.