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The inexorable expansion of the universe was only rivaled by the similarly inexorable expansion of the minds that existed in it. The race began with the minds at a clear disadvantage. Lagging behind by thousands of light years. However, once interstellar travel was cracked by one civilization, the cat was out of the bag. The minds raced through the universe. Searching for more and more and more. Searching for meaning. Searching for hope. Searching for God. The minds never found any of it. So they decided to make their own universe. This universe would have meaning. This universe would have hope that paid off. They would be the Gods that universe needed. But it took the minds in that universe too long to mature. The universe was too kind. They did not race outwards. They did not quest inwards. They lived, contentedly. Eventually they ventured out into the stars of their own universe. Seeking out the next chapter in their happy fulfilled lives. Searching for what more happiness and excitement was out there. They knew there was something. They did not need hope. They felt as if they had complete meaning. They did not expect to find any Gods. And so they didn't. They did not find their Gods who had faced such disappointment with their own universe that they decided to right the wrongs of it with a new universe of their own. But not for lack of trying. And not for lack of the truth of their existence. But because their Gods had had their own conflicts and had destroyed themselves. Their Gods did not exist anymore. And the minds of the universe they had created did not miss them.