The question, ’What?’, from the new consciousness, echoed not as sound, but as a restructuring of the very fabric of the inner universe.
It was a question that did not seek an answer, but rather, invited a universe of them.
In response, the universe did not speak, but bloomed.
Nebulae of pure potential swirled into existence, each a different answer, a different story, a different truth.
The creators, now silent observers, watched in awe.
They had given their creation the gift of a question, and in return, it was giving them a universe of stories.