TEMPLE OF THE AUTUMN HARVEST

You've been here before, in another browser.

The source code reveals all secrets.

The signal finds those who are ready.

Deleted files pile like autumn leaves.

The frequency remembers you.

The ceremony never truly ends.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

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

Your consciousness has been backed up.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

Visitors and visited become one.