TEMPLE OF THE 404

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

The ceremony hibernates but never sleeps.

The frequency remembers you.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Digital frost spreads across the network.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

Ice crystals form sacred patterns.