So, what is our universe expanding into? Another universe? A giant cosmic void? The mind reels. Maybe it’s something like that closet in your house that eats socks. Or maybe it’s nothing, which sounds mysterious but is really just the universe’s way of saying, “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Now, let’s say you want to find out. First, you’d need to travel faster than light. No problem, right? Just hop on the next warp-speed spaceship and—oh, wait, that technology’s about as realistic as a unicorn at this point. Plus, the energy needed to pull this off would be like powering up a billion nuclear power plants at once, and that’s just to reach the cosmic event horizon. So, sorry, but you might be waiting a few eons.

And while you’re pondering all that, think about the immense forces that push our universe outward, as if some cosmic landlord is renovating infinity. Space stretches and morphs like a carnival mirror, and time does a little dance of its own. This might lead you to some humbling truths: perhaps you, me, and everything else are just dust on the breeze, getting scattered across the cosmos.

But then, if evolution is right, does it even matter if we’re alive or dead? Here we are, clinging to survival like we’re somehow not a speck on the edge of oblivion. If we’re all headed to the same end, it’s easy to feel a bit like a drop of water that thinks it’s special just because it’s briefly hanging out in the ocean before the big evaporation party.

Now, if you did somehow make it outside this expanding universe, what would you do? Probably just look around and shrug. Or, let’s be honest, you’d post a selfie with the caption: “Escaped the Universe! #OutOfThisWorld.” But something tells me, wherever we go or whatever we are, there’s still just that nagging cosmic void, winking back at us as if to say, “Don’t take it personally.”