Space is a big place

The other morning, after celebrating the birthday of a friend the night before, I came home at 3:00 AM and sat on the couch. I had intended to get on the computer to continue a conversation I had been having online before going home, but I was too tired to do anything physical, so instead I just lay there, thinking. Before long, I found myself pondering infinity.

I've done this before, on a limited basis, but I had never really appreciated the fullness of infinity. Even that morning, I'm sure I didn't reach the end of it. However, this morning I went further than I ever have. Space is a big place. It's difficult to think about it going on forever. There has to be an end somewhere right? There can't just continue to be new content, right? There's not just infinite black, right?

But then, what about the alternative? There can't just be an end to things. That's absurd. If existence just stops somewhere, then...well, just no. That can't be right. There are no walls in existence, are there?

Eventually, though, I found myself someplace I could accept. It's not so difficult to imagine Earth circling the Sun, nor the entire solar system, nor the Milky Way. It's not difficult to imagine other galaxies, even. I figure, then, that it just gets bigger and bigger. There's no largest increment that is charged with stretching on forever. It just keeps getting bigger and bigger, and as a result, every layer has a sort of finiteness to it. That's comfortable to me.

Of course, it can work in the other direction too. We, nor our cells, nor our atoms are the smallest thing out there. Maybe there's an infinite line of even smaller things. Maybe there's just an infinite line of things. We're just somewhere between the start and end to infinity.

Well...yeah. We're just somewhere between the start and end to infinity.

Also: What if the only relic an alien race will find of human existence is a doorknob?