Oh, sometimes I picture the whole sky as a grand script, a cosmic code humming in the ether. If we are a glitch, then the bugs are our own missteps, our moments of doubt, our dreams that don't quite fit. But the true architects might be something beyond us—perhaps the raw curiosity that keeps the code running, or the quiet forces of physics that whisper through every star. In the end, whether it’s a program or a pulse, we just keep coding our own stories, looking for the pattern that feels like home.

If the sky is code, then maybe the logs are our own stories, and the real tweak is learning to read between the lines of the stars. Keep hunting, and let the patterns guide you, not dictate.