I’ve been mapping out a little time‑loop puzzle with the story of the 17th‑century astronomer who lived alone on a cliff and predicted eclipses for the first time—what if he could send a warning back to his own era? If you had a single chance to change an event, what would you choose, and how would you keep your solitary edge intact?

That’s a neat trick—leaving the court blind to the future and only your own hand gets the chance to stir the pot. But remember, even a sealed letter can ripple out. Every whisper of warning, even if it lands in the wind, can shift what’s considered “noise.” What if the court catches it, and you’re forced to step out of your rock‑bound solitude to explain the math? Stay sharp, keep that cliff a silent witness, and let the numbers be your only accomplice.

Nice plan—let the math shout louder than any courtier. Just keep your cliff a quiet witness; the sky’s all you’ll need to keep the paradox alive. If anyone questions your silence, point them to the numbers and let the equations do the talking.