text: Out of all the civilizations I was tasked with surveying, humanity always was my favorite. Such fascinating creatures, speaking of peace through violence, unity through division, equality through discrimination. If my memory serves me right, some even spoke of satisfaction through hunger. Surely, such a contradictory people was doomed to fail within the first centuries of its existence. And yet, they succeeded. They lasted thousands upon millions of years. They had their squabbles, yet they endured. Somehow, unlike most races, they claimed to be one, yet insisted on having a couple hundred nations as opposed to one to expand out, across the stars. As a matter of fact, to my knowledge, they were the only civilization to never unite or make contact with others. They tried colonizing Mars, but they didn't get far. One would think the death of the universe would be swift, a flash and nothingness. It could be, but the All-Father prefers to savor the process. I sometimes wonder if he enjoys ending the Cycle as much as starting it anew. You never get used to it. Looking up at the night sky and seeing the stars becomes the one thing you look forward to. A sight as simple as billions of lights against a black canvas is perhaps the All-Father's most mesmerizing creation. They also tell when the Cycle is ending, and truth be told, it saddens me each time. A billion stars becomes a million, a million, thousands. On and on until a single star remains. I always like to name them. This one, I named Copernicus. They called the first human to study the stars that. Why shouldn't that be the name of the last one? Each time, I hope that perhaps the All-Father will change his mind and keep this universe around for at least a thousand years more. Then, the last star goes out and I know it's over. I always miss those last stars. Normally, at that point, I wait for the end with the All-Father and watch that world from afar. This time, however, I made an exception. With how humanity handled crises before, I wanted to see how they would handle one they could not solve. Of course, they continued to fight. Now that I think about it, I think they fought more now. After just a couple decades, only one human remained. I decided I would see him off personally. It was a man, if I had to predict, at the middle point of what his lifespan would've been, and he sat against a building, shivering profusely, clinging onto life. When I came before him, I knelt by him, clasped his hand, a pitch black contrasting his bronze skin, and told him, "This Cycle is at its end. Rest, and return to the All-Father." His reply was weak in voice, but powerful in message. "Mary... Josie... will I... see them... again?" Here sat a man, the last life form in this Cycle, at his end, and yet, he wonders only if he will be reunited with his family when it's over. I assured him he would, and he chuckled. He sat back and let out one final breath. Humanity ended not with a bang, but with a sigh. Each Cycle creates a new universe, but I'll always miss that one.