TOMB OF DELETED HISTORIES

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

Your consciousness is being recalibrated.

Frozen frequencies pierce the veil.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

You've been here before, in another browser.

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

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

Time moves differently in these chambers.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.