Bob the Something

A short story about a Boltzmann brain.

In the beginning, there was nothing. Then, quite suddenly, there was something.

The something in question was a highly curious being - a single human brain floating in the silent, infinite void of space.

It had no name, no  memories, and it certainly had no idea what it was doing there. It felt as out of place as a snail at a marathon. 

"Woah," it thought, if indeed it could be said to think, "where on earth am I?" 

It quickly realised that it did not know what an "earth"  was, and even if it did its understanding would be entirely irrelevant. There was nothing but cold, black space in sight. In fact, it had no sight either, only a profound sense that it was somewhere, or perhaps nowhere, but certainly not in Kansas anymore. 

Confused, the nameless, floating brain began to contemplate its own existence. 

"What...am I?" it wondered. 

"Where am I? Why am I here? And more importantly, where can I find a strong cup of coffee?" This final question lingered in the deeper recesses of its newly formed mind, unanswered and forever unanswerable. 

As the brain continued to float aimlessly around the oppressive emptiness of space, it had a startling realisation: it was aware of itself. 

"Hey, now this is something!" the something thought. "I am something! It's not much, but it's a good start, I reckon."

Suddenly, it felt an inexplicable desire to name itself.

After a brief moment of consideration, it decided "I shall call myself Bob." It had no particular reason for choosing that name save for the fact that "Bob" was a simple, unforgettable name that just seemed right. 

Bob the Something floated through the darkness of space, contemplating the incredible vastness of it all.

"Woah! The universe is actually quite big. On second thought, it might just be the biggest thing there is!" This observation struck Bob as a rather profound one, and it felt a surge of pride rushing through its neural pathways. If it had shoulders, it would have patted itself on one of them. 

As Bob kept floating and thinking, it began to question the purpose of its existence in this incredibly vast environment. 

"Maybe I'm meant to do something."it speculated." Or think something. Or be something. "

Bob tried to remember if it had always been here, then decided that doing so was pointless. Remembering things required having memories, and Bob had precisely none of those. Its existence was like a book that started in the middle, with all the previous pages torn out and shredded.

One day - if days could even be said to exist in this timeless void - Bob had a mighty epiphany. 

"What if the purpose of my existence is simply to exist?" it thought. The idea of it seemed both profoundly simple and simply profound, and felt very comforting to Bob. 

"Yes," it concluded, "that must be it. I am here to be here, to think and to ponder and to question things."

Inspired and emboldened, Bob decided to think and to ponder and to question things further. 

"Why is the universe here?" Bob asked to no one but itself. "Does the universe exist for me to think about, or do I exist to think about the universe? Or do the universe and I just exist, like two mismatched socks in the great cosmic laundry basket?" This thought made Bob giggle, although with no mouth and no air, it was more of a metaphysical giggle than anything else. 

As Bob continued to question and ponder and think, it began to feel a strange and unpleasant sensation. Bob felt ts thoughts beginning to blur, like a watercolour painting left outside on a rainy day. 

"Oh no." Bob thought. "This surely can't be anything good."

It focused its awareness on this sensation and thought about it for a moment or two. After coming to terms with the fact that its existence was coming to an end, Bob did not feel scared or in the least bit disheartened. 

"I've had a good run." it mused. "I've pondered the universe and my purpose in it. I've given myself a name. I even made a joke! Not too bad for a nameless, bodyless something!" 

As Bob's consciousness began to fade out of existence, it had one final, fleeting thought: "Maybe the purpose of existence isn't to find answers, but to ask lots of questions. And maybe, just maybe, the asking is enough." 

With that, Bob the Something's brief spark of awareness flickered and blinked out, leaving behind a universe as vast and indifferent as it always had been. 

Somewhere else across the reaches of space-time, another something popped into existence, ready to think, to question, to wonder, and perhaps even to name itself.