What all these dull science fiction writers don't realise is that there's only one parallel universe, identical in every way to this one. A real
parallel universe. It's sorta off to the side a bit. Two parallel universes,
running parallel to each other (8th dimensionally speaking), just carrying
on identically. Ah, but for what purpose? Ah haaaaaa, that's where the
clever bit comes in: they're 8th dimensional train tracks, see? Identical
things parallel to each other, and a giant 8th dimensional train trundles
along them back and forth from one end of existence to the other, carrying
anyone who happens to be sufficiently dimensional to be able to exist on it
(none of whom have fuckwad names like Vorgon of Queeg; this is astronomy,
motherfucker: grab a telescope and you can see for yourself).
This universe and its twin are on the slow line. The 8th dimensional train
travels along slowly, stopping frequently. It's only come by this way once
since existence popped up uncontrollably like a morning erection (it wiped
out the dinosaurs because their heads were sticking up too high and got
ripped off by the undercarriage; smaller dinosaurs had their fragile
ecosystem fucked with because all the big dinosaurs died out, and the rest, as they say, is complete made up bullshit). Other poor universes,
not parallel to this one, and thus not parallel to that one, but which also
run from one end of existence to the other, just on a different route, have
the express lines, have 8th dimensional trains bombing along all the time,
crushing life, ripping off heads, sending evolution back to go every few
weeks. Bummer ummer. You thought life was futile? It is. We're on the
meandering route, full of meaningless shit. Deal with it.
You can't comprehend these non-parallel universes. Other than the start and
finish points, they have nothing in common with this universe. Having
nothing in common means that they don't exist in relation to us at all. At
all. They're not "like this one, but" or "exactly the opposite of...",
they're beyond your and my comprehension. There is existence, and there is
existence, and all you get to know about is your existence. 'Tis just the
way it is. The closest we can come to comprehension is the most express of
these universes, which goes from one end of existence to another in a
straight line. All the other universes flap off along infinite dimensions,
equally beyond our comprehension - although San San scientists know now that
the 8th dimension has something to do with timetables. We're one of these,
and because the dinosaurs haven't died out too recently, we can assume we're
on one of the slow lines. That's all we know. That's all we can comprehend.
Cool huh? (Of course on a grander scale the dinosaurs died out very
recently, but what you failed to consider, fuckwad, is that these 8th
dimensional trains fair bomb it along from one end of the universe to the
other).
I guess what you're asking yourself is how I know this. Am I one of these
eighth dimensional superbeings sorta beyond your comprehension, a form of
god, a lesser form of god, a greater form of god? Jeez, get a fucking grip:
I may be arrogant and egotistical, but I'm not so arrogant and egotistical
to think I don't exist. I just made it up, and left it all confused because
that just adds to the mystery. Duh. Worship it. It'll be fun. (Ooh a tacked
on point, I feel so proud of myself).