NEXUS OF CORRUPTED DATA

The spam folder contains sacred texts.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

The servers dream of electric sheep.

Prophecies fulfill themselves.

Your breath clouds the monitor.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

The ceremony peaks at the witching hour.

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

Digital frost spreads across the network.

You've been here before, in another browser.