In the beginning, there was no stuff. Then promptly after, though experts still argue about how and exactly when it happened, some stuff finally appeared. Most historians later agreed that the no stuff stage was the peak of existence and that it was largely downhill from then onward.

See, the very nature of stuff is such that it can only ever cause problems.

When one does not have a Thing, or enough of a Thing, which happens often due to there typically being not enough of a thing to go around, suffering occurs. Indeed, most suffering of sentient beings can be attributed to not having a Thing or other, whether the Thing is some holy land, or oxygen, or a very pretty rock.

Yet paradoxically, it is very difficult to have exactly enough of a Thing, and having too much of a Thing can be even worse. Collections get completed, and immediately defeat their own purpose by being complete. Money stops bringing happiness after a while. And most addictive substances, even derived in the most technologically advanced of processes, will eventually reach a point at which no additional dose of it brings the same effect.

The only Thing that this doesn’t happen to is knowledge.

Individuals of academia - or any other field of dedicated and passionate people - are personally acquainted with this. As a child, you start with little information in your brain, but with a lot of wonder and unanswered questions. As you progress through the years of school, then undergraduate studies, then further into your degrees, you acquire stupendous amounts of information, but is somehow left with even more questions then you had begun with.

This is because your unknown unknowns are always greater than your known unknowns, and receiving an education, whether formal or informal, makes you aware of all the things you don’t have a clue about.

It also explains why those with the least knowledge are usually the ones most confident in their expertise: they simply do not know enough to realize just how wrong they are on every account.

Hugo Friedkin was aware of this as well.

Approximately four months ago, Friedkin fell through an inter-dimensional portal knowing very little. Then, in the span of about fourteen seconds, he was granted access to the total knowledge of everything that has ever happened in the history of the universe up until the present moment. This is when Friedkin realized just how much he haven’t known all his life, and also why most people he came in contact with have always been so frustrated with him.

He also became obsessed with knowledge at once. Suddenly, all the things he could never force himself to give a damn about became absolutely crucial for his well-being. Everything fascinated him. He craved to learn the plots of Ancient Greek plays, the anatomic structure of insect wings, the history of civilizations he had never even heard about before, and the recipe for a perfect apple crumble.

All of this he learned in the subsequent months; indeed, he had either learned or was in the process of learning basically everything, and could now answer almost any question you have about all that is and all that ever was before.

Yet the greatest educational process in the history of education did very little to change Friedkin fundamentally. One should never confuse being knowledgeable for being intelligent or wise.

One thing he struggled with was making sense of all his knowledge. It is sadly not enough to have all the dots, you have to also connect them in a meaningful manner, and Friedkin could connect fuck-all. So, despite knowing more than any scientist could ever hope to record or remember, Friedkin was yet to propose any new scientific hypothesis. He followed all manners of scientific journals - from all fields - with fervent admiration, but he could hardly judge their validity.

He wasn’t so sure what to do with all his knowledge either. The what and the why are quite different questions, and creative problem-solving requires more than just raw data. Because of this, Friedkin had astonishingly interesting opinions of many things, but was not able to figure out how to leave the backstage of reality despite, theoretically, having enough information to eventually figure it out.

So instead of leaving, Friedkin made the backstage his home. He spent his time taking care of imaginary potted plants, conversing with imaginary people, and watching the universe go by on its business. He was currently very excited because, after a whole month of having to watch life evolve on the planet Vervinicus Zeta and following the presidential elections on Galgafon 7, he finally had something better to pay attention to.

Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency.

“This professor is shady, kinda,” said Friedkin, lounging in an imaginary chair in his imaginary world-viewing cinema. “I bet he’s hiding something.”

“But we like the professor,” said the other Friedkin and pouted.

There were any number of imaginary people that Friedkin could conceivably imagine talking to, but after a tedious round of trial and error three months ago, he had concluded that talking to himself was the one option that made him feel the least insane. After all, if talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, then which sign of madness is it to talk to other people who aren’t there?

“I think the billionaire is not telling the whole truth either,” said yet another Friedkin to Friedkin number one and Friedkin number two.

They nodded in agreement.

All of the Friedkins didn’t need to think or speculate since they knew exactly what has happened so far - and a little of what was likely to happen in the future - but were pretending not to. It is very hard to maintain a conversation with someone who knows everything that you know, and when you yourself know basically everything.

“The Lilly girl is interesting,” Friedkin continued. “Didn’t she seem worried any time Dirk asked her about the dead guy?”

“She seemed awkward and worried,” another Friedkin confirmed.

“And there’s a cat!” Friedkin number three pointed out. “Do you think it’s connected?”

“It’s always connected,” said the original Friedkin, and the others gave him impressed looks.

“They will figure everything out,” one of the Friedkins said with confidence. “Can’t wait for the fun part when Dirk will explain it all!”

All other Friedkins agreed with this. He began to quite like Dirk, ever since he didn’t shoot him that one time.

“Hey, what about that Brotzman girl and her psychic vampires?” asked Friedkin to Friedkin and Friedkin. “I haven’t checked up on them for a while.”

“I really haven’t,” Friedkin agreed. “Let’s check up on the vampires in the cool van!”

And, sipping some of his imaginary cocktail, he switched the buttons on the remote of his completely real universe TV.