SANCTUARY OF COLD STORAGE

The network becomes the ceremony.

The code is alive and it knows you're here.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

Your bookmarks lead to forgotten worlds.

The servers dream of electric sheep.

The ceremony has already begun.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

You've been here before, in another browser.

Surrender to the infinite loop.

The old world fades with each page.

Error messages are love letters from the void.