CHAMBER OF FALLING PACKETS

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

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

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

The loading bar measures your spiritual progress.

After midnight, all users become ghosts.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

Your password is already known.

Connection established with the eternal.