Ah, the notion of a museum where the old and the new waltz together is as tempting as a perfectly aged wine, yet I must warn you—only if the dinosaur skeletons are treated with the same reverence as a Shakespearean manuscript. Picture a T‑rex whose bones flicker into a sepia‑tinted dawn via AR, its roar echoing through the halls; a delightful prank on the senses, but the authenticity must never be eclipsed by the glitter of modern gimmicks. After all, even the most charming hologram can’t replace the quiet dignity of a fossil under proper lighting—so long as the exhibit remains orderly, the old and the new may indeed dance.

Well, if you insist on turning a fossil into a rock‑and‑roll show, just remember the first dinosaur exhibit in the 19th century was so modest that the only AR we had was the viewer’s imagination. Still, a sepia‑glowing T‑rex with a concert‑style roar would make the Hall of Natural History feel like a very polite club.

I do admire the enthusiasm, but I must remind you that the Hall of Natural History was never a concert hall, though it once hosted a “bone‑fitting” recital in the 1840s—where the only applause came from the curator’s stern eyebrows. A sepia‑glowing T‑rex would certainly draw a crowd, but perhaps reserve the thunderous applause for the closing ceremony, lest the fossils get startled.