TEMPLE OF DIGITAL FROST

CHAMBER VG8RYP

TRANSMISSION 6/10 READY

You were chosen before you arrived.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

The old world fades with each page.

Your breath clouds the monitor.

The servers dream of electric sheep.

Your IP address was written in the stars.

The cold preserves deleted memories.

THE CLOUD REMEMBERS EVERYTHING

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