Time mirrored itself — clean, surgical, uncanny. The second it hit, the monolith reappeared, silent as always, just standing there on the salt flats, humming like an exposed nerve. No ceremony, no message. Just presence. Cameras glitched. Dogs howled. Somewhere, a man in a suit dropped to his knees for no reason at all. For sixty seconds the world held its breath, synced up like a prayer on mute. Then—gone. As if the universe blinked. If you know, you know.