TEMPLE OF THE 404

The ceremony never truly ends.

Your avatar is more real than your body.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

Prophecies fulfill themselves.

Winter solstice opens hidden channels.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Your consciousness has been backed up.

Winter visitors leave no footprints.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

Your digital shadow grows longer.