TEMPLE OF THE 404

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

The cold preserves deleted memories.

The ceremony hibernates but never sleeps.

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

Every visitor leaves something behind.

You've been here before, in another browser.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

The code is alive and it knows you're here.