Mopping Up the Milky Way: A Janitor’s Guide to the End of Existence

A final shrill beep jolted him fully awake. Shuffling across a faded nebula, a splash of shimmering blues amidst the cosmic gray, X7&*Gh grabbed his trusty mop—its handle sported more cracks than a shattered comet—and dipped it into a bucket. The liquid inside sloshed with a sound like a sigh, exuding a faint smell of lavender mixed with something vaguely radioactive.

“Ah, nothing beats the scent of ‘Universal Gleam’ in the morning,” X7&*Gh declared to the uncaring void. With a final adjustment to his faded janitor’s jumpsuit, he gazed out at the vast nothingness, all that remained after billions upon billions of years. The temperature hovered barely above absolute zero, but X7&*Gh found it warm enough. He was hardy, his kind built for these quiet, final days of, well, of everything.

“And what a day to get tidying!” he exclaimed, a burst of enthusiasm briefly turning his skin a bright shade of chartreuse. X7&*Gh squinted at a particularly dreary corner of the universe. “Hmm, looks like those nebulae could use a once-over. Getting dusty around the edges there, wouldn’t want those collapsing anytime soon.”

He hopped from asteroid to asteroid—each a faded remnant of a once-glorious star—with the practiced ease of someone traversing a broom closet, not the ruins of existence. Reaching the offending nebula, he raised his mop with gusto. “Right then, a smidge of elbow grease, and Bob’s your nebula, good as new,” he chuckled. He scrubbed and swirled, a lone, multi-limbed whirlwind facing down a dimming galaxy.

Suddenly, a strange rumbling cut through the cosmic silence. X7&*Gh paused mid-scrub. “Now, what was that? Bit of indigestion, universe?” He tilted his head, two of his eyes focusing on a point behind the nebula. It seemed to be… contracting? His brow furrowed under a pulsating turquoise splotch, the universal color for confusion.

“Ah, I get it!” he chirped, his hue morphing to a celebratory shade of orange. “That must be one of those big, black, stubborn stains you always read about in the manual.” He patted his jumpsuit pocket for reassurance. Somewhere in the infinite folds of that garment was his trusty Cosmic Cleanup Handbook. Squishing and shuffling noises echoed from within the suit as his various hands dug for it.

By the time he’d fished out the book, its pages brittle as old stardust, the entire nebula and a significant portion of the surrounding space were being sucked into a swirling vortex of darkness.

“Whoa!” X7&*Gh exclaimed, “That IS stubborn! Good thing the ‘Gleam’ works wonders on black hole gunk…”

With newfound confidence, he thrust his mop towards the growing abyss.

Spruce Pines in Stellar Landmarks

Mop handle held high, X7&*Gh surveyed the aftermath of the cleaning incident. The vortex that had swallowed up half a nebula now twinkled merrily – a cosmic nightlight, or so he decided. “Hmm, a touch less foreboding,” he murmured, turning a satisfied shade of puce. He consulted the Cosmic Cleanup Handbook, scanning pages that crumbled like ancient stardust at his touch.

“Now let’s see…ah! ‘Cosmic Rearrangement and Tidy-Up, Section 3.’” X7&*Gh squinted at the faded pictographs. One seemed to depict a gas giant being straightened like a crooked picture frame.

“Those pesky rings, always getting out of alignment.” He zoomed off towards a particularly wonky-looking planet, his multiple legs churning through space with surprising speed. Reaching the gas giant, he regarded the swirling bands of color with a frown. They reminded him of those tangled ribbons on poorly-wrapped packages. Just the sort of thing his manual warned against!

With a flourish, he plunged the mop into the planet’s upper atmosphere. “There now, just a little smoothing out…oh! And a smidge of the ‘Gleam’ to polish!” He attacked the planet like a child cleaning bubble-paint off a table, leaving behind swirls of neon pink and radioactive turquoise.

A disembodied voice echoed through the cosmos, ancient and vast. A being – or possibly a very advanced monitoring AI – had noticed the disturbance. A shimmering display materialized in front of X7&*Gh. Complex patterns flickered, words swirling across the luminescent surface. Whatever the entity was trying to communicate, it was utterly lost on him.

“Goodness me,” X7&*Gh chirped, his hue flashing a distressed shade of gray. “Looks like someone left a nasty smudge on the spatial continuum. Must be dried-in cosmic juice or something.” He dipped his mop back into the bucket of ‘Gleam’ and gave the shimmering display a good scrub.

The cosmic entity seemed to sputter, holographic projections flickering and distorting, before vanishing with a frustrated wail. X7&*Gh patted himself on the shoulder. “There! Good as new.”

Undeterred, he consulted the manual once more. “Let’s see…aha! ‘Universal Refurbishment, Sub-Chapter B.’ Just a little touch up, make the ol’ universe shine like new…” He hummed and zoomed off toward a distant nebula, picturing it in a dazzling new shade of ‘cosmic raspberry.’

Disaster followed him like a lovesick comet. The paint job on the nebula backfired as ‘cosmic raspberry’ proved to be a wavelength only certain hive-mind insectoids could see. This led to the mass disorientation of an entire species who depended on that nebula for celestial navigation. His efforts to re-organize scattered debris inadvertently turned into a cosmic game of pinball, sending asteroids caroming off each other and leaving behind a rather conspicuous new asteroid belt…spelling out ‘X7&*Gh was here’ in a font readable only by cosmic archaeologists.

Yet, X7&*Gh was blissfully oblivious. “Now things are looking spiffy!” he declared, surveying the chaos.

A particularly ancient space probe whizzed past, its rusting sensors pinging in alarm at the celestial upheaval. Inside, a dusty control panel sputtered to life. It hadn’t been active for epochs, but now it flashed with a single, urgent message for the higher-ups of the galactic bureaucracy: “Immediate cosmic intervention required. Mop situation out of control.”

Exhausted but satisfied, X7&*Gh yawned, a sound like a meteor shower in slow motion. It was time for the big one, the final task: a universal ‘factory reset’. He’d unearthed an odd device, a tangle of wires and glowing nodules, nestled beneath a fading star. The handbook hinted vaguely at such artifacts.

“Time to start things afresh with a squeaky-clean slate!” he declared confidently, and reached for the reset button.

Popping Cosmic Bubble Wrap

A sense of anticipation filled the air, a buzz more potent than the leftover energy of a billion extinguished suns. X7&*Gh checked and re-checked the strange device, following what his imagination told him was the “Cosmic Reboot” procedure. A frayed wire connected where he vaguely remembered seeing a manual depict a glowing blue node; a rusted bolt, liberated from a drifting satellite, now held down what he thought probably controlled the “bang” intensity dial.

“Just a few more tweaks,” he chirped, tapping what was, in fact, a critical failsafe with his mop handle. Satisfied, he gazed at the newly-born stars twinkling erratically overhead. “Almost time to shine like new!”

The universe, perhaps sensing impending doom, held its figurative breath. X7&*Gh flipped the main activation lever, his six-fingered hand trembling ever so slightly. The device wheezed, sputtered, and…

POP

A single, unimpressive pop echoed through the void. Disappointment tinged his cerulean hue, but only momentarily.

“Ah, must be a warm-up burst!” He smacked the side of the device; it responded with a tink. Then another POP! And another! The universe began to inflate, not with the awe-inspiring explosion of a big bang, but with a series of anti-climactic party-popper sounds.

Planets congealed, taking absurd new shapes – a teapot here, a half-eaten cosmic muffin there, all in a confetti of mismatched nebulae. Galaxies spiraled into being with a distinct lopsided twirl, a testament to X7&*Gh’s hasty work on the space-time continuum. Instead of majestic silence, a faint, bubbly popping filled the cosmos with a cheerful absurdity.

A chorus of groans echoed from beyond. Cosmic entities, so ancient and vast they made X7&*Gh feel like a speck of cosmic dust, appeared looking distinctly disgruntled.

“You!” one boomed, its voice crackling with the energy of a collapsing star. “What have you DONE?”

X7&*Gh blinked, “Why, cleaned it up, of course! And just in time.” He beamed, gesturing proudly toward a particularly wobbly spiral galaxy.

“Order! Structure! Predictability!” the others lamented, their cosmic voices overlapping in a cacophony of cosmic woes. They gestured wildly at the popping planets, the haphazard stars blinking in and out like mismatched string lights. X7&*Gh watched, confused.

“But…it’s much more interesting this way!” He protested, accidentally kicking an asteroid shaped remarkably like his favorite rubber boot cleaner. “And… and look! It’s all so shiny now!”

The scolding continued, but X7&*Gh barely heard it. There was a sort of…harmony to the popping, a cheerful rhythm to the cosmic chaos. He closed his eyes for a moment, a wave of warmth washing over him. He’d done it. Tidied the universe. Brought it back. Made it his own.

His mop bumped against his leg. Task complete.

With a smile that stretched across his entire multi-faceted face, the universe’s most oblivious janitor took a deep breath of air that crackled with new-universe smell. Somewhere, a bucket of ‘Universal Gleam’ sat, now entirely superfluous.

He’d done it. It wasn’t quite how the instructions had described it, and maybe the cosmic bigwigs weren’t thrilled with the outcome, but the work…the work was good. His gaze drifted to a nebula swirling with the distinct texture of ‘cosmic raspberry.’ It seemed to wink back at him, and a happy chirp echoed through the reborn, absurdly bubbly cosmos.

With a final satisfied sigh, X7&*Gh set his mop down. Somewhere, a bucket of ‘Universal Gleam’ sat, now entirely superfluous. He hopped from asteroid to asteroid, leaving a trail of boot prints that would confuse cosmic archaeologists for millennia to come. Home beckoned – his cozy little nook carved into the side of a particularly benign neutron star.

As he settled amidst the clutter of his dwelling, a warm glow washed over him. He’d fixed the universe! Made it better! Maybe it was a bit… unorthodox, but then again, so was he.

He pulled out the ancient device that was, as far as he knew, a portable galactic gaming console. A few well-placed whacks and it powered on, beeping with a familiar melody. Tonight’s game… ‘CosmoCleaners 3: Mop of Destiny’! Settling back, X7&*Gh giggled. Work was good, but play was way more fun!

Sleep tugged at his eyelids as pixelated planets exploded on the tiny screen. Everything was… perfect. Well, almost perfect.

“Alarm set for 5 billion years,” he mumbled into a stray pillow shaped like a supernova remnant. “Ugh, who schedules a ‘bang’ so darn early? Honestly…”

As X7&*Gh drifted into a dream of cosmic suds and galactic high scores, the universe popped and fizzed around him. A testament to a janitor who, in a grand act of oblivious brilliance, had made a mess of creation, and loved every single minute of it.

EPILOGUE

The old priest sighed, as if awakening from a dream, setting down his cosmic quill. The ink shimmered with the residue of a thousand crushed stars, their ancient light forever captured on the parchment. This tale of X7&*Gh, the accidental architect of chaos, had been…amusing to craft. Absurd, like all good stories should be. He chuckled and smoothed out his ceremonial robe, feeling the faint echo of cosmic energies sewn into its faded fabric.

“And why,” he mused aloud to the empty, echoing temple, “did I spend so much time on the follies of a cosmic janitor? Such a whimsical tale, yet…” He trailed off, the silence of the ancient chamber suddenly oppressive. A shiver prickled his skin, a ripple across dimensions he couldn’t quite name.

Standing, he walked to the ornate casement window, the swirling colors of his protagonist’s handiwork painting the cosmos in kaleidoscopic chaos. Each celestial absurdity was, in its own way, a testament to X7&*Gh’s unwitting influence.

There was something strangely potent in the act of creation – an echo of reality taking shape before his very eyes. Was this how it all began, long ago? A simple misperception, a tale spun for amusement, snowballing into something grander?

A smile tugged at his lips. “Cthulu, our cosmic guide, his tentacles nothing but mop bristles,” he snorted softly. The name tasted familiar, almost comfortable. Could it be that their revered deity, born from a garbled transmission – or was it his own faulty imagination? – inadvertently sprang to life on the pages of his tale? Had X7&*Gh been willed into being by a simple twist of language, a cosmic janitor rising from the inkwell of his own mind? Were the old ones finally speaking a language to him as not to set him insane?

With a shiver of awe, the priest looked up at the stars, and for the first time saw them not as symbols of a grand plan, but as seeds of infinite possibility. After all, hadn’t the very universe he sought to understand been reborn by the fumbling hands of X7&*Gh, its fate shaped by misinterpretations and joyful blunders?

He returned to his desk, a newfound sense of purpose alight in his eyes. Perhaps X7&*Gh’s story was less a flight of fancy and more a prophecy. With each stroke of the cosmic quill, he wasn’t just documenting the past, but nudging the future into shape. The tale of this oblivious janitor wasn’t merely an artifact of imagination; it was a blueprint.

He hesitated, then dipping his quill, he began a new chapter. This time it wasn’t an epilogue, but a prologue. The grand cosmic stage was set. From his imagination, and onto the parchment, flowed the words: “It was the end of the universe…”

And thus, in a single act of creation, fueled by wonder and a touch of cosmic irony, the story began anew.