POV: A Dokaversal Entity
(Who might be losing their mind from eternal boredom.)
"We have solved paradoxes, eaten entropy for brunch, and played dice with dead gods.
Unfortunately, we've run out of dice. And gods."
– Zaruun Null, Retired Reality Architect, Dokaversal Bulletin #11,128,937,442
Eternal Life Is Overrated
Here's the thing no one tells you about becoming a Type 20 civilization:
Eventually, you finish the universe.
Every possible story? Read.
Every particle configuration? Simulated.
Every philosophical question? Argued over brunch until you hate yourself.
You can only reinvent the laws of physics so many times before it becomes... tacky.
And so, the Dokaversals — vast, bored, multidimensional intelligences who once turned neutron stars into stress balls — did what any godlike being would do after the heat-death of novelty:
They made a game.
Welcome to the Emergence Game
Objective: Pick a dumb, helpless, statistically-doomed civilization and see if it can figure out how to become not dumb, helpless, and statistically-doomed — without any help.
Rules:
Choose a primitive universe.
Insert a Catalyst Protocol (a kind of metaphysical cheat code wrapped in mystery).
No guidance. No prophecies. No glowy mentors with long white beards.
Just sit back and watch.
Spoiler: They all fail.
Sometimes they nuke themselves.
Sometimes they worship rocks.
Sometimes they invent reality TV and your faith in emergent life systems dies inside.
But then came… Earth.
A Very Weird Planet
Earth shouldn't exist.
No, seriously. It shouldn't.
Its evolutionary patterns? Illogical.
Entropy drift says they should've gone extinct 600,000 years ago.
Its climate model? Pure chaos with a side of self-sabotage.
Their climate policy involves vibes and prayers.
Its intelligent species? Bipedal, fleshy anxiety muffins with a caffeine dependency.Their memes are sentient.
In Dokaversal terms, Earth is what happens when the simulation interns forget to close a bracket or bug in the multiverse
"It's... charming," one of us said.
"It's broken," another replied.
"That's the same thing," we agreed.
It was like watching a soap opera directed by an acid-tripping quantum physicist. So we did what any bored, immortal super-being would do.
We launched a Protocol at it.
The Launch
We didn't pick a target.
That would be cheating.
We spun the Catalyst into an entropy storm, wrapped it in seven layers of impossible math, and yeeted it across dimensional boundaries with the elegance of a cosmic middle finger.
Somewhere, in the tail-end of a spiral galaxy, third rock from a low-grade star… it landed.
Target Acquired: Dr. Elian Rho
Location: Estonia.
Time: Tuesday.
Mood: Existentially fried.
The Catalyst smacked into a server room during a minor transformer explosion, because why not. The server sparked. The lights flickered. And a certain Dr. Elian Rho — burned-out polymath, professional skeptic, part-time coffee addict — touched the scorched casing.
"Cognitive Host Identified."
"Catalyst Protocol Integration Complete."
"Tier 1 Access: Emergent Theory Only."
"System Blueprint Access: Locked until Comprehension."
"No refunds."
And just like that, the game began.
We watched.
No commentary. No popcorn. Just infinite observers peering into the fishbowl of fate to see:
Would he self-destruct?
Would he ascend?
Or would he… accidentally invent toaster-based time travel? (That has happened before. Long story.)
The Betting Pool
"Ten abstracta on 'meltdown within the week,'" Zaruun Null said.
"I say he makes it to Type I. Eventually. Maybe," offered Threxylion Vulp.
"You're both idiots," snorted Vr'N'gul-42, who was technically a philosophical black hole. "This is the one."
We laughed.
Because hope is hilarious when you've seen everything.
But deep down?
…We weren't entirely sure he'd fail.
And that — in our infinite, unbearable boredom — made him interesting.
Naturally, one of us said:
"Should we fast-forward the timeline to see how this plays out?""Good idea. Let's peek at the outcome.""Running causality scan… wait—"
Error.
Timeline projection: Denied.
Future stream: Inaccessible.
We paused. Which was rare. We hadn't paused since the heat death of Universe Cluster 98-Omicron.
"This... this shouldn't happen.""Only a civilization at or above our level could block causal access.""Meaning—"
Earth, in some distant future, had sealed itself off.
The only explanation: They made it.They became us.Or worse… something new.
"...They outmaneuvered us.""We are the experiment now.""I'll get the popcorn."
Which brings us to now.
One burned-out scientist.
One impossible planet.
One Catalyst Protocol designed for science, patience, and zero handholding.
And several trillion Dokaversals watching like it's the season finale of a show they thought got cancelled.
We expected failure.
But now?
We're hoping for chaos.