"Welcome, The End of the Universe"

I wanted this to be perfect. That is why I kept postponing it, changing a letter here, a word there. Even this phrase used to be different at the beginning. Oh! Joyous beginnings! "What is perfect?" He asked me. I looked at him with mixed emotions. I thought it was another one of his divine jokes. If He said that, it must mean that perfection is of no use here. Maybe perfection lies in the doors you open in the reader's heart and mind and less in the text itself. So, here it goes.

You won’t believe what happened! I know you won’t, because I can’t believe it either. I figured you
would enjoy it , however. The only thing I couldn’t recall was the exact time and place it all occurred.
The only thing that remains certain and as concrete as the very ground I am now sitting on, is the fact that at
the moment I am writing this, the things I will be reporting have already happened. Or have they? I am
really lost right now, I beg you to understand.
You are never going to believe what happened to me. I know you won't, because I wouldn't either.

So I wake up and there's blank all around me. Blank, like white. Nothing at all. Another thing I notice is that I'm not breathing anymore. It's not like I feel any need to breath, anyways. I'm completely floating, hovering in thin... well, not air, but something; looking around me - all white. Ah, there's something! A huge, and I really mean out of proportions, red line separating what seems, oh... the Universe. I am, as suggested by the many signs, at the End of the Universe, somewhere trapped in time and, seemingly, space. I might be bringing very bad news. There's the Universe, I can even see the Milky Way and the stars and everything, and there's this huge, huge red line and then this white space. There's even a sign post here that says it clearly: "Welcome, The End of the Universe". I find it really hard to pick up all my thoughts and place them in a fluid, coherent stream of ideas. Thus, I will resume describing my surroundings. I am sure of everything I am stating right now because the place is stuffed with sign posts. Yes, sign posts! Written in legible and understandable english. Or am I reading in another language? I was searching for a quiet place to write, when suddenly I forgot where I was, or if I was anywhere. A certain paradox, I now find myself in a disruption or time and space. Another certain paradox, if proven right, is that I write in a continuous present about something that happen or is going to happen. I think I now understand what the blank space beyond the line is for. It’s my space. I can do whatever I want there. For example, changing the given variables I could travel back and forth in Time. To prove this, especially to myself in order to preserve sanity, I will change Time and Space itself, reducing them to a mere rank of variable in a complex and collective system of thinking. Even as I'm speaking this into my mind, something, a burning feeling in the back of my throat suggests me that I could somehow be wrong.


 I can see a man coming. A very simple man, as simple as anyone, as simple as you'd expect a simple man to be. He approaches me from virtually nowhere.
"Hello." he salutes me with a smile. From the way he said it, I immediately assumed that he is God. And not any religious type God, not an elephant with many arms, not a white bearded old fellow, not even a black Morgan Freeman - God, as in the Author of our World. God, as in the Narrator of our Lives.
"Are you God?"
"Yes, I am! I see you are confused. Can I help you with something?"
"How did I get here?"
"There are things that not even I know. Such things as you being here. Can't you see that I am as surprised as you are? Since you're here, would you like to ask me something?"
I ask the first thing that comes in mind: "Are we alone?"
"Here, yes."
"In the Universe."
"Oh, no! Alone? You are a lot! More than two billion, not to mention the ants, the bees, the bacterias, the wolves..."
"No no, I mean... are there any aliens?"
"Aliens? You don't even know half of your neighborhood. You can't salute the ones you know, most of the time, and you can't make your friends feel good, but you are concerned about even more lifeforms? Aliens? No, there aren't any for that matter."
"You brought me here to show me how miserable I am?" I try, with a suicidal dare.
"Why do you assume that I brought you here? Everything that happens, blame it on God?!"
"Am I dead?"
"No, we have a special place for that."
"Hell?"
"In your case, yes." his pause made my whole existence tremble. "I'm just kidding" he continued.
"How can you make such a joke?"
"You wrote once that humor was of divine nature. You wrote that only God can truly understand the essence of humor and that humor, in its perfection, is in limited quantities. Can't I make a little joke?"
"Was everything I wrote true?"
"You made it true!"
"Everything I ever write is true?"
"Yes, of course, you make it that way! In fact, everything that everyone writes, paints, draws or creates in any way, everything fills this big blank space. This is how the Universe grows. This is how you keep it growing."
I couldn't say anything else. My mind was filled with everything he was telling... sorry, He was telling me... it's even harder to understand that I'm actually talking to God. 
"I have one more question."
"The purpose of existence? The purpose of the Universe?"
"Not really, but that too, yes! What about love?" my question seemed to fill my new Friend with a feeling so deep that, for a moment, I thought every star in the Universe started to blink twice.
"Ah, love. Beautiful thing, quite complicated." coming from Him made me a little more confident on my own feelings. He continued: "Every time you, your friends, you family, everyone around you and everyone on Earth created something, it filled this blank, this white void. But every time you, the general you, truly loved something or someone, it animated everything that was newly created. Without love, the Universe would be a motionless, lifeless drawing." he paused again and I smiled in anticipation. He smiled back.

Inspirat din "The Egg" (de Andy Weir)