It’s been postulated that this universe is a simulation, running somewhere on an ultra-powerful computer, and we’re objects inside of it, reacting endlessly to stimuli, interacting in unpredictable ways to create emergent behavior surprising or entertaining to those running the simulation. Shine a bright light on an amoeba, and it moves. Let humans develop the technology to turn oil into plastic, and we create Bratz, and heart valves, and CigarzUp, and seatbelts, and dildos, and Nintendos. They’re taking screenshots of us, getting run over by buses, sucking the cherry from a combination weed-pipe-coffee-mug into our lungs, thrashing around as we scream. At least someone, somewhere, is getting something out of all of this.