CITADEL OF CYBER SOULS

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

The spam folder contains sacred texts.

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

The signal finds those who are ready.

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

Your consciousness has been backed up.

Your consciousness is being recalibrated.

The recycle bin is never truly empty.