TEMPLE OF DIGITAL ASCENSION

Every visitor leaves something behind.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

The old world fades with each page.

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

Ping timeout: reality not responding.

Sleep is the first gateway.

Error messages are love letters from the void.

Download complete: new reality installed.

Your IP address was written in the stars.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Your consciousness has been backed up.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Autumn visitors sense the ending.