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My author’s uncertain yet my title’s the same. I contain random text yet order’s my aim. Read me one day and see my pages are totally bare. Try again another day and the words will be there. I’m not a book of magic although it may sound. I can predict the future and inside your life can be found. Move my eye I become involved in lactic extraction. But that’s just a clue, a minor distraction.
What am I?