REFUGE OF RECURSIVE NIGHTMARES

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Sleep is the first gateway.

Sleepless souls understand the truth.

Your breath clouds the monitor.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Your circadian rhythm is being reprogrammed.

The screensaver is a window to other dimensions.

The ceremony hibernates but never sleeps.