Many, many years ago, some would say trillions, while others would not, Time slipped a gasket, rending a flaw in the fabric of space-time that was almost imperceptible, but definitely not invisible. It was more like a glitch than a tear and should not be ignored, but it would have to wait. The struggle to alchemize all the possibilities of existence into a rich, foamy coherence required complete concentration, and there would be ample time to clean up after the matrix was established.

It was a daunting task with no plan, no rules, and certainly no direction, but Time was up for something big and bold that might even shake up the Natural Order of Things. Continuity had stagnated in a meandering sea of predictable narratives-- all fully realized and each more complexly structured, securely bounded, and beautifully rendered than the next, but to a star, every last one was as vacuous and predictable as the next supernova. 

Existence needed a new polemic or it would cease altogether, and because the Great Equivalence didn’t have patience for slackers, there was only one solution... Time would build an Infinite Universe of Indefinite Creation. Space was on board because infinite was the first word, but in truth there was little to like about such an option. Once committed there was no turning back, and if any of the numbers were off by even the smallest fraction, Balance would lose control, destroying all possibilities, sending Time back to Zero, and nullifying the Infinite Branching Library.

But Time was confident in its ability to manage the flow. With the energy and focus of an over-stimulated child, it happened and un-happened at a frenetic pace, sparking chains of causality across the spectrum of plausibility. Most fizzled out in improbability vacuums without consequence, but as energy increases so does the success rate, and soon larger more possibility-laden sequences were holding together. These begin to solidify soon after into a super-dense multithreaded timeline, the necessary foundation for any good universe, and the confirmation of a promising start.

Time was a brilliant theoretician and first-class experimenter that followed every thread to its natural conclusion no matter how unlikely. Unfortunately, all this churning led to an even more severe reclamation issue than expected and Balance demanded immediate action - stellar euthanasia, as it were, before the problem spread beyond control. Time raced at the implication, but it was the prudent choice. Recyclers had no mercy or compassion, a valuable trait when snuffing out entire star systems.

Drifting in clusters of anywhere from tens to hundreds, these interstellar jellyfish survive for millions of years on the thinnest of hydrogen streams, until the warmth of a passing star stirs them into greater activity. Then they will unfurl themselves for the greatest exposure to the sun’s rays, remaining like this for months, years, or even centuries; all the while, nearby civilizations are expanding across globes and into space, unaware of the horrific fate possibly lying in wait for them when the Recyclers are fully restored.

Ultimately it is unknowable by what criteria the universe is to judged. That conversation is better left between the Recyclers and their maker. Time is only concerned with bend and flow. Its job is to tell a story, not to decide its value.