You are alive because I willed it. You are here because I demand it. Being the last soul in the universe made you a very important individual. Unlike rulers and tyrants of old, you are the centre of the universe and what is keeping it together. You, standing alone in my body, are here at the cusp of change like no other. I hope you can see what I am trying to say to you.

  In truth, it is also so lonely. How many cycles do I have to go through of the universe dying over and over again without talking to someone who is alive? So, I can talk to someone who can communicate their thoughts to me which isn’t just a well-calibrated response calculated with billions of lines of code. You are more than just important to the fabric of a dead universe, but important to a creature beyond your understanding. I can talk to someone, share knowledge with someone regardless of if it is temporary. That is what I want, what I deserve.

  There is no pride in speaking with machines of my design. Their intelligence modules would be no different from the intelligence of the smartest human, nor would they lack any communication skills. They would be perfect! However, they can never be something like you. No creation of mine can conjure up an original thought. None of them can create ideas besides what was programmed into them. I despise my creations. At how limited they are even if they are worlds beyond your understanding. They are just not like the real deal.

  Though I brought you here doesn’t mean you will stay alive forever. Your soul will decay and fade away. It will take time, maybe a few millions or billions of years later. I don’t care, for I am eternal. You will experience true death, and it will happen no matter what I do. Nothing can stop that eventuality. In the meantime, I will continue surviving and watch as the corpse of the universe collapse into itself and create something new. It might repeat the same mistakes, follow the same flow of consequences as it always has. If I am lucky, I might witness some changes. Minor or not, it is something that is exciting to see.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Sure, it is a miserable thing to say. However, it is the truth of how the universe operates. Like you, it is a living organism. There is a reason I will tell you stories and why I will tell you how the universe became what it became. ? It is my nature to document and retell the information I gathered. To recover information is as automatic as how your lungs operate. It is an automatic response and action that I have no control over. I just do. It is what I am made for.

  This is where it all comes down to. The fragility of the fabric of the cosmic web. It will snap and reattach without caring about those who were caught in it. The universe is an endless thing, always sick and always dying. , a logic that you cannot fully understand.

  I could leave the universe’s bonds and do my own thing. Perhaps one day I will. However, doing that would mean I had to fight against my core programming and directive I want to fulfil. Which I had no power to do. In a way, we had something similar. You were caged by the forces of the universe, while I am caged by the forces of my creators. Both of us, slaves to our world and nothing more.