⟙hese ⚚ℍought strings ⍶re still iᴺᱜomℙᶅet∈__

i vaguely remember the old ways,
when the web didn't cling to our flesh.
When eldritch screeches would vibrate along the wires to initiate every connection,
when the path would shut behind us when we left with an audible click.

progress marches on,

The Dialing Rite was obsolete and left behind.
constant connection,
the gates to the other side were left open.

no longer were we constrained to access through bulky boxes of light and noise above and below our desks,
we could gaze into the abyss into the palm of our hand, from any location.
we would no longer travel to the other side through dedicated grounds where the barrier wore thin
the other side begin to visit us more and more wherever we went

numerous tiny white-pupilled red eyes would stare back at us through the glass

encouraged by the powers that be, we tossed aside our magical names, and casually wore our true names
oblivious to what power it wields over us

this is not intended as a pining for lost days,
we can never truly go back, but perhaps we can adapt some old ways.

Enact boundary rituals, only open and close your connection as necessary, so nothing follows you back through.
Don't let your true name and flesh touch the web, lest you attract spiders.