CHAMBER OF CONVERGENCE

The ceremony hibernates but never sleeps.

Your IP address was written in the stars.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

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

Sleep is the first gateway.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

You are becoming the signal.

Your avatar is more real than your body.