This object, clearly produced via additive manufacturing (3D printing), embodies a powerful blend of memento mori and Steampunk aesthetics. Its shape juxtaposes the macabre reality of a human skull—complete with exaggerated, furrowed brow ridges and a menacing snarl—with the anachronistic elegance of Victorian technology. The top hat, adorned with rivets and a prominent clockwork gear, immediately places the piece in the Steampunk genre, while the mechanical monocle covering the right orbit adds a layer of asymmetrical intrigue and personality. The entire piece is unified by a striking, metallic copper sheen, giving it the appearance of an ancient, steam-powered artifact retrieved from a forgotten laboratory. Its artistic value lies in this fusion: it transforms a universal symbol of death into a captivating icon of retro-futuristic style and engineering, suggesting a character who was both a genius and a scoundrel in a world powered by brass and steam.

They called him the Chronographer, a clockwork enthusiast who claimed he could map the echoes of time itself. But the monocle wasn't for seeing; it was a lens ground from a dead astronomer's eye, used to track the last shadow of anyone who gazed into it. He died hunched over his final, flawed equation, the copper top hat fused to his bone by a surge of arcane current when he tried to synchronize his heart with the Royal Clock. Now, the artifact sits silent, but when the moon is new and the house is still, the small brass gear on the brim begins a slow, deliberate tick. It is the sound of his last breath, winding down again and again, counting the milliseconds until another unsuspecting eye catches the gleam of the optic—and the Chronographer can begin mapping their final moments, too.