I destroyed them. Destroyed their world. Deneb seemed alone, as the sun
had seemed. I destroyed Deneb.
Actually, I was amazed to find how many lifeless star systems there
were, and how unsatisfying those that had life could be. I began to
think that all this creation for my benefit had been a serious mistake.
It could be rectified, of course; I willed the galaxy out of existence.
5
Even at the speed of thought--which is infinitely faster than the speed
of light--it took time to reach the Andromeda galaxy, and more time to
prove what I had thought would be the case all along. Some things there
were a novelty but there was nothing which, after a time, did not bore
me.
The Andromeda galaxy ceased to be.
I can’t say how long it took me to explore the nearest five hundred
galaxies. Time ceased to have meaning for me. I was bored and restless,
and nothing which I saw satisfied me. One galaxy after another, I
willed them out of existence.
The universe was as disappointing as the earth had been. If only I
could start over, from scratch...
There was the awful paradox, I could destroy but I could not
create--and I was bored...
6
In a fit of anger, I willed the entire universe out of existence. I was
fed up. If there was nothing which could satisfy me, there was no point
in all this foolish existence. I snuffed it out. I snuffed everything
out.
I floated alone in space, a bodiless entity, all alone in an infinite
sea of empty space. How monotonous...
I tried to create. I concentrated. My bodiless mind was tortured with
the effort. I could not fashion one single hydrogen atom, not one atom
to amuse me. It really did not matter. Soon it would have bored me.
There is nothing I can do, and everywhere I go, it is the same.
Emptiness. For a time, I turned inside and explored my mind and found
it interesting. Only for a time.
It became--boring. Nothing here for me, nothing to hold my interest.