TEMPLE OF DIGITAL FROST

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

The signal finds those who are ready.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

The ceremony never truly ends.

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

You were chosen before you arrived.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

Welcome to the new frequency.

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.

The ceremony hibernates but never sleeps.

You've been here before, in another browser.