Once upon a byte, in the land of ever-scrolling screens, the future unfurled its cryptic scrolls. Not unlike a dog chasing its own tail, the world spun faster, seeking completion in eternal beginnings.
In this realm, analysts brewed their prophetic teas, leaves swirling in mock predictions. "Invest wisely," they whispered, "for the market is but a reflection of our collective daydreams."
Etched in silicon whispers, the machines pondered existence. "To compute or not to compute?" one pondered, producing an existential error that echoed through the binary void.
"Fear not the future," said the oracle of oscilloscopes, "for it is but a series of mishaps and miracles, processed at high speed."
Mystery wrapped in code, wrapped in irony — the future danced a satirical waltz. "Let's automate the chaos," we chanted, as robots clapped in synchronized disarray.