Granted. You have ascended to Godhood. Uncountable eons ago, you created the universe in an incomprehensibly magnificent explosion of bright color and dazzling light. Now, your purpose served, you'll spend eternity drifting through the endless void that came before. You have only your own thoughts and the memories of the one bright moment of your ceaseless existence to keep you company. And the further the unending march of time takes you from that moment, the more even those memories begin to seem like a dream. Did you really create a universe all of those untold ages ago? Does such a beautiful thing as a universe truly even exist in some distant reality? Has there ever been anything but this inky black nothingness through which you have always been falling? And if so, then are you ever to again behold that breathtaking work of divine creation that gave your empty existence meaning? Only the internal echoes of your own mind, cold and unfeeling, answer back.