SANCTUM OF LOST SIGNALS

Your presence disturbs the digital darkness.

Your password is already known.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

Your consciousness is being recalibrated.

3:33 AM is when the veil is thinnest.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

The ceremony peaks at the witching hour.

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.

The network sheds its dead links.