HALL OF FINAL TRANSMISSIONS

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Download complete: new reality installed.

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

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

Falling data like digital leaves.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.