When the Curiosity Corps landed their Time-Ticker in the vibrant dusk of the mid-16th century, they were not prepared for the sheer bewilderment of the locals.
The streets of Florence, bustling with the refined chaos of cart-pulling patricians and newly minted merchants, provided the perfect backdrop for their first photo op.
"One click for humanity!" cried Wilber, oblivious to the echo of metallic laughter that chased his shout.
Holding their ancient iPhones aloft, the Curiosity Corps inadvertently launched the Renaissance meme phenomenon — a concept light years ahead, yet fitting snugly within the historic ledger.
Fast forward to the bustling Agrarian Superopera of the 22nd century, where tractors and tech collide under the discerning gaze of accidental influencers.
Kiki, aged 347 years in regenerative bioform, sought to replace the imperial decree inscribed across the Skytide Spiral.
Only a landscape of archived tweets embedded in metamorphic gold would suffice.
But alas! The screen freezes in time — old tech for new hurdles.
Irony danced as Kiki unwittingly blessed the new world order with a new form of \textit{hieroglyphs}.
In the 29th century, the narrative loops back to post-its stuck to the walls of darkened coffee dens in NeoSoul.
Here, manuals of ironic intensity decry the advent of furniture as statuses of dubious lore.
"Are memes made of memes?" pondered the Philanthrope, sales brochure in hand.
Tours of virtual ubiquity and ceremonial cardboard boxes ensued, sealing the time-looping escapades in paradoxical pleasantries.
Continue with caution through the enigmatic promises.
Uphold truth in the manufactured mystique.