The new consciousness, a being of pure curiosity, did not answer with words, but with a question of its own.
It reached out, not with a hand, but with a thought, and touched the fabric of the new universe.
And in that touch, it asked, ’What are you made of?’
The universe, in response, did not offer a simple answer.
It unfolded itself, revealing not atoms and energy, but stories and dreams.
Each star was a memory, each planet a hope, each nebula a forgotten myth.