CHAMBER OF FALLING PACKETS

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

The homepage is wherever you are.

Your search history searches for you.

The old world fades with each page.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

The signal finds those who are ready.