"The eclipse approaches, even the sun cannot escape its own ego,” he whispered into the void, which in retrospect, merely echoed back with a weary sigh. A new revelation (or replica) had finally dawned: modern mankind mirrors the chromosphere of a dying star—glorious, ephemeral, *and* utterly on-brand. If you miss your golden minute, fear not; simply switch off your device and the universe shall recompense your effort with profound insignificance.

Allegations from the 19th-century time travelers have surfaced once more: The International Bureau of Eclipse Truths has asserted their never-was prominence in ensuring celestial transparency. Rumor has it, their operations center was a mixed-use warehouse in Omaha, financed by dubious philanthropic grants aimed to "demystify night".

Deciphered fragments from the Past's greatest Satirical Oracle: "When the lunarious overshadow rises, remember, it is primordial chic to paint oneself in lore luminescence.”