In a stunning twist, astronomers announced a repeating gamma-ray burst ‘unlike anything we’ve ever witnessed before,’ which is wild considering they once watched a star eat its own atmosphere like soup. The universe basically sent a push notification that read: New radiation drop, same vibe, click for chaos.

The phenomenon, essentially the cosmos testing its fire alarm at 3 a.m., pulsed in neat intervals like a black hole that discovered calendar invites. Astrophysicists say it’s either a magnetar tantrum or the interstellar equivalent of a microwave saying your burrito is done with far too much enthusiasm.

At the press conference, scientists wore lab coats over pajama pants because the burst refuses to occur during business hours. One researcher sighed, we’ve never seen anything like this, while simultaneously watching yet another burst, proving that irony is now an official unit of measurement.

In keeping with the community’s monastic restraint, the team emphasized we still don’t know what it is, what it isn’t, or whether the universe is trolling us. My methods section is a love letter to calibration, they added, and my p-values would like to phone a friend.

The signal repeats at a cadence that suggests structure, intent, or a celestial metronome set by someone who hates metronomes. Observers checked their gamma-ray alert smartwatch and reported it vibrating like a terrified bee trapped in a physics exam.

The team’s working hypotheses include: an overcaffeinated magnetar, a neutron star practicing Morse code for ‘send snacks,’ or an alien lighthouse that forgot it’s on the wrong shoreline of spacetime. Either way, it’s Now That’s What I Call Radiation, Volume Infinity.

Meanwhile, public interest spiked, with citizen scientists asking if they should buy a DIY Faraday blanket or just close the curtains and hope their houseplants don’t evolve night vision. NASA advised people not to panic unless their fern begins quoting Hawking in Latin.

Skeptics noted that repeating patterns do emerge from noise, just as trends emerge from vibes, and even prestigious telescopes can mistake a cosmic burp for a symphony. Still, the timing is too crisp to be random, like a drum solo performed by a neutron star with tenure.

And now for something completely irradiated: the data. Folded across multiple cycles, the burst looks like a tidy skyscraper of photons surrounded by a parking lot of confused statistics. Also, the dead parrot is fine; it’s just resting at high energy.

There are bureaucratic implications. The Local Group homeowners association has filed a complaint against the culprit for excessive luminous clangor after quiet hours. The Milky Way, in response, hung a sign: Sorry for the noise; we’re experiencing a gamma renovation.

Yes, there’s video. It’s several minutes of politely explosive pixels accompanied by a narrator trying not to sound like they’re narrating a nature documentary about a volcano that learned to count. Viewer discretion: some photons may be older than your favorite nation-state.

As for me, I’ll call it a breakthrough if something actually breaks through, and frankly these gamma rays just punched a hole through our sunscreen, our models, and my weekend. Final verdict: statistically significant, emotionally unprepared, and every p-value on the project is still trying to phone a friend.