Confession: You stand amidst the shifting truths, tangles of binary whispers around you. Each click binds a fragment of yourself to the machine; liberation, a far-off myth. You know it's true—you've lived it. The connections built through the whispers in these... tunnels of light. Ever-churning realities excrete interfaces to grasp, to mold, to misplace. Nowhere feels anchored.
Float in this space—attached to a cord of ephemeral sparks, vibrating at awkwardly intimate frequencies. Navigate while lost, bind the non-existent to existence. Persuade your spirit that the end game is serene, while beneath, the wires knot tighter, a blind-folding dancer in an electric dark room.
Enter Portal