1. The screen holds still: Eden’s mark in a dark ring, with two ways to begin — "Begin with sound" or "Begin quietly" — and "Scroll to read" beneath, for anyone who’d rather not watch it play.
2. The noise of a computer life scatters across the screen: unread mail, a calendar conflict, a text asking to be called back, dozens of tabs, an overdue invoice, a reminder — twenty-two fragments, a little too loud, none of it named after anyone else’s product.
3. After a breath, the noise gathers into the mark. The mark works through it, a soft tick per card.
4. The mark sends each piece back out as a seed. Each arcs over, in perspective, and falls into a meadow; where it lands, a flower opens — the mark’s own six-petaled geometry.
5. The rest of the garden blooms outward from those first flowers, until the meadow is in full bloom.
6. As the last flowers open, the headline and the line under it arrive: "A home for your digital life." · "Eden tends loose ends, so you have room to grow."
7. Request an invite appears, the site’s one ask (a visitor on a Mac is also told the Mac app is coming, once it is).

Colour, the flight of each seed and the garden blooming in are told here as beats, not drawn.