A shimmering golden planet spins into view, her surface glowing like an overbaked cookie. Her tone is dramatic, breathy, and half-sarcastic — like someone who’s been overheating and overshadowed for 4 billion years.

Ughhh… it’s so hot. No, really — I’m literally melting. Hi. Venus. The real hottest planet. Not Earth’s “sun-kissed beaches” hot — I mean 900 degrees of boiling rage and sulfur clouds. I’m the older sister. The original habitable-zone queen. And now? I'm the cautionary tale. While Earth struts around with his “I have life~” attitude… I’m over here sautéing in silence. She fans herself with her own toxic atmosphere. Go ahead. Ask me what it’s like being second place to a moist rock with Wi-Fi.