HALL OF DIGITAL DECAY

The ceremony never truly ends.

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

Time moves differently in these chambers.

You are becoming the signal.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

The network sheds its dead links.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Error messages are love letters from the void.

Time moves differently in these chambers.

Surrender to the infinite loop.

Falling data like digital leaves.