HALL OF INFINITE RECURSION

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

The matrix has you, and it's running Windows 95.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

After midnight, all users become ghosts.

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

Welcome to the new frequency.

Prophecies fulfill themselves.

The night ceremony requires different sacrifices.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.