The body keeps its own time — a twenty-four-hour clock that predates every civilization and every alarm — and the more aggressively we override it, the more clearly it protests in the languages it has available. Nasreddin woke with the birds and slept when the village went quiet; he would have found the modern war against sleep both puzzling and entirely predictable. The body is not a machine to be optimized; it is a seasonal creature in an unseasonal world, doing its best.
Each step builds on the last.