Roger-Jean, attempting yet another mission in his favorite video game, jumped when he remembered at one in the morning that the last time he took his dog out was over eight hours ago. Rigobert, the dog in question, didn't hold it against him, and seeing his master getting agitated, pretended to sleep or even to listen, while comfortably settled on the warm and cozy sofa in the living room. The pee could wait until the end of the night. But unfortunately for Rigobert, Roger-Jean was distraught at having failed in his duty as a master, and, once on the landing, urged his dog with loud cries of "Rigochou, come on my little one, let's go for a walk." Rigobert understood very well the meaning of the word "walk," but the flavor of this command at 1 a.m. was miles away from being equivalent to that of 8 a.m., yet, against all odds, Rigobert decided to get up from the sofa, shook himself, stretched, and wagged his tail lazily to signal to his master that "Alright, alright, I'm coming, if it makes you happy." Roger-Jean smiled, put on his harness, and opened the apartment door. Rigobert followed suit.

The street, plunged into darkness due to electricity restrictions, felt like moving through a dead city. For a moment, Roger-Jean almost imagined feeling the solitude of Will Smith and his dog in the film adaptation of Richard Matheson's book "I Am Legend."

Rigobert just wanted to pee and sniff around a few things that would probably disgust his master. Who knows, with a bit of luck, maybe he'd come across a cat.

Roger-Jean enjoyed this hour of the night, in this unusual darkness and almost serene calm for a neighborhood near the city center. Far away, the headlights of a car sometimes pierced the night veil to illuminate a random building before returning to oblivion. Roger-Jean looked up, a hand on the collar of his jacket to keep his neck warm. He had recently realized, thanks to the cuts in night lighting, that it had been a while since he had seen the stars. Those lonely night lights that pierced the black vault above him intrigued him at times. There were, of course, stars of all types and kinds, but what about the space between the stars. What wonders could be hidden there? How to even mentally envisage such vast distances? And how-

Rigobert opted for a little poop. He vigorously scratched the thin square of grass in which he had deposited his trophy, and wagged his tail, his nose in search of something to sniff. Roger-Jean realized he had forgotten the poop bags at home. Cursing himself, he just hoped no one had seen him do it when a three-note ringtone sounded in the street (the world?), so loud it resonated and echoed with a similar intensity on every possible surface, three times in a row. Roger-Jean was taken aback, and many thoughts crossed his mind during those three rings of three notes, like "is it because of the dog's poop?" or "but where is that ringtone coming from?" Rigobert, for his part, felt something unusual, and as with all that is unusual, associated it with danger. Consequently, he whimpered weakly, his senses alert, the hairs on his back bristled, making him resemble a hyena. Indeed, like many of his four-legged peers, Rigobert sometimes senses things invisible to man, upcoming events, but remains incapable of understanding the concept of transparent glass doors, and three times out of five, smashes his snout against them.

The three rings ended, a voice announced itself in Roger-Jean's head. It also announced itself in the head of every inhabitant, every animal, every sentient thing, from human to plant, from elephant to ant, and spread throughout the universe.

The message was universal, translating to "Unexpected End of the Universe. We apologize for the inconvenience."

All of creation screamed in horror for a brief moment, then fell silent forever.

The Engineer was dismayed (if dismay is a concept that can be applied, more or less distantly, to a being of His nature). Thus, before His eyes (if indeed He possesses such), the third iteration of the universe labeled as "B7-Moustache" was collapsing in on itself, at a speed that very clearly violated all the laws He had implemented in its specific algorithm - the basic algorithm He had always used in the past (if, indeed, time as we know it influences and acts upon the Engineer and His surroundings, and if, also, the Engineer operates within a given environment).

Yet the role of the Engineer has been and will always be to create universes, according to the orders and instructions of the Committee. There is a Grand Order to maintain, and this Grand Order notably depends on the universes generated by the Engineer.

He considered contacting the Committee to discuss the problem. Perhaps the instructions attached to their order for the "B7-Moustache" universe were incorrect, but He did not believe so. The Committee is never wrong. If there is a problem, it's not in the order. But what, then? He could not leave an order unfinished. It would block the following orders, and who knows what would happen then. No, He was not going to contact the Committee. There's no need to alarm them when everything is clearly planned, everything is in the Grand Order. This universe is a bit shaky, sure, fine, but as for the reason for this imbalance preventing it from reaching its end, although unknown, had to be addressed anyway.

Is it its shape? Its composition? Is the orientation of the Arrow of Time adequate? The Engineer launched a simulation from a backup of the 3rd version of the "B7-Moustache" universe and simultaneously - but meticulously inspected all variables, from the most massive black hole to the most minuscule and insignificant sub-sub-sub-quantum nanoparticle.

Soon, He saw that a link in the great universal fabric was broken, and, by a domino effect, led to a sudden extinction of this universe, which was supposed to last a certain time according to the Committee's request. It is true that some universes created by the Engineer were sometimes barely born before they had to disappear, without external intervention. The Engineer's programming did the work. Other times, some universes existed long enough for one or more forms of intelligent life to appear and then be frozen for eternity. Again, this is part of the Grand Order, which the Committee's instructions reflected adequately. The "B7-Moustache" universe, however, was supposed to last long enough for heat death to occur. We were far from that in the current state of things.

The Engineer dived back into the simulation, observed the fabric, the broken link and its innumerable dependencies, calculated the prerequisites for a repair and its consequences, and concluded that direct intervention on His part would be necessary, for the first time since Eternity. This would require repositioning several variables, and an intellectual interaction with some of them to influence them to move in the right direction.

He wasted no time (sic) and got back to work.