Billions of years after the beginning of time, after countless species had emerged and died,
cosmic wars had been fought and lost, and galactic empires had risen and fallen,
in a remote region of the cosmos, there lived a being by the name of Nobis.
Nobis was a descendent of one of the first sentient species
to ever emerge in the universe and one of the first species to ever successfully evolve
and make it passed the great filters of existence. His ancestors had built technologies and uncovered
knowledge needed to harness the energy of their star, spread out beyond their host solar system,
and extended individual lifespans well into the hundreds of thousands of years. Nobis was
conceived during a time that was marked by a new wave of compounding progress and ingenuity–the
likes of which the universe had never seen before. Nobis’s father came from a lineage of high-ranking
fleet commanders and was now the leader of a newly emerging galactic empire. And so, from birth,
Nobis was prophesied to be a ruler of a new form. With the insistent pressure and expectations of
his father and family name, with which nothing was ever good enough, and ordained by his
circumstances of time and space, Nobis would grow up to become one of the most advanced members of
his already hyper-advanced species, inheriting his father’s position of immense of power and yearn.
As leader, Nobis dedicated himself to growth and progress, determined to prove that he was
worthy–worthy of his role, worthy of his name, worthy of existence, worthy of his father’s
love. Nobis’s goal was not to become leader of his father’s nation nor leader of his species,
though. Rather, he would not be satisfied until he was the leader of the entire universe.
Working relentlessly every day, Nobis left no celestial stone unturned, amassing every possible
resource and uncovering every possible insight. He traveled the entire galaxy, then the entire
galaxy cluster, and then, the entire universe. He met with every important sentient being across
the cosmos, overcame those who challenged him and allied with those who did not. He climbed
the ranks of his entire species, and then, the ranks of all species. He learned everything there
was to know—every law of physics, every rule of reality; he learned how it was all put together
and how it all worked. He transcended and merged with other minds, forming into a single mind that
encompassed all thoughts and all timelines. He harnessed the energy of stars, then galaxies,
and then, the whole universe, integrating with its very fabric, like a seamster of reality.
Nobis would emerge monarch of the cosmos, deity of celestial bodies, god of time and space.
Ensuring that the cosmos continued to run smoothly, however, proved to be quite a lot
of work. Ensuring that celestial bodies moved properly, that resources were distributed and
allocated equitably, that civilizations both new and old were operating appropriately,
staying out of each other’s way, satisfied but not too satisfied, and so on, meant that
Nobis now spent most of his time behind a desk, inside an office, atop a tower,
going through documents, running calculations, dealing with problems, and making decisions.
Of course, Nobis could have and did have help from other advanced species and beings whom
he had allied with along the way, but since he took his job very seriously and believed that
he was the only being in the universe capable of making sure that things were done right,
he always checked over everyone’s documents and calculations and required his approval
for all decisions. Consequently, those who worked for Nobis were only of so much help.
Most of those who worked for or knew of Nobis, envied him. Although no one ever
seriously thought that they could take his job, they desired it; they desired his success and his
position in the cosmos. They envied his immense power and influence; they envied his freedom
and autonomy. In truth, however, Nobis didn’t derive much pleasure from his role at all.
He was always busy, and being responsible for everything involved endless tedium
and bureaucracy. Of course, he could have relinquished his title and responsibilities,
but he was far too prideful. He could not imagine making it this far just to go the other way.
What would the universe think of him? Nobody wants to hear the complaints of a god.
Moreover, he feared what would happen. No one else could do what he could–no
one else should, he felt. It was what he had dedicated his existence too, what he was good at,
what he understood, what he was supposed to do. And so, he did the work because it was his to do.
After billions of years into managing the universe, Nobis had still not taken much,
if any time off. He hadn’t explored much of the cosmos in a very, very long time,
let alone enjoyed much of it. Occasionally, he would take a day or week off every thousand years
or so, but he would often just find himself feeling guilty and anxious when he did.
He typically just ended up working from whatever utopian oasis he was at in whatever other remote
part of the universe, just the same. He feared that if he took too much time off,
he would lose control, he would lose traction; that things would go wrong in the hands of others.
And so, after beating the infinitesimal odds of existing, surviving millions of years of chaos,
and acquiring the powers of a God, Nobis spent his time working incessantly, day-in and day-out,
toiling away at a tedious, ceaseless piling of work and bureaucracy–never really enjoying the
very universe he governed. He figured that, at the end of time, when there was no more work to be
done and no more things to manage, then, he would finally find a moment to take a quick trip around
the universe and enjoy the remaining stars and destinations just before they ended forever.