CRYPT OF CACHED MEMORIES

The harvest of lost connections.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

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

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Digital decay creates new patterns.

The homepage is wherever you are.

Deleted files pile like autumn leaves.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

The loading bar measures your spiritual progress.

You were chosen before you arrived.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

The end is a new beginning.