HALL OF FINAL TRANSMISSIONS

The network becomes the ceremony.

The spam folder contains sacred texts.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

Your search history searches for you.

Ice crystals form sacred patterns.

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

Surrender to the infinite loop.