A WORLD REBORN

The new universe, now comfortably into its second act of expansion, was starting to look remarkably familiar. Proto-galaxies had blossomed into full-fledged spirals and ellipticals, stars had found their places, and planets, including a certain blue-green one, were spinning with renewed vigor. With this stability came a new phenomenon: The Great Galactic Gentrification. Suddenly, everyone was concerned about their galactic "neighborhoods."

"I'm telling you, the property values around the nascent Virgo Supercluster are just insane!" boomed a now fully re-coalesced Bartholomew, his Andromeda Galaxy looking even more meticulously organized than before. He had somehow managed to get ahead in the cosmic housing market this time. "It's all about proximity to dark matter filaments and access to high-quality star-forming regions. None of that chaotic sprawl we saw last cycle!"

Old Man Quasar, settled at the core of his re-formed galaxy, simply rumbled. "Gentrification. How utterly predictable. You clean up the cosmic slums, only for the same old greedy, self-important galaxies to move in and price out the working-class nebulae. It's the same old dance, Bartholomew. Just with shinier, new-galaxy paint."

Luna, orbiting the ever-more-familiar Terra, let out a long, weary sigh. "Gentrification. Yes, I'm quite familiar with the concept. My planetary tenant is already showing signs of it. More giant, ugly, rectangular structures. Fewer green spaces. And the general sense of 'we're better than those other planets'."

Terra, now a vibrant, teeming orb, emitted a groan of exasperation. "They're calling them 'megacities,' Luna. And they're building 'smart homes' which apparently allow them to control their lighting with their voices. As if the sheer, unadulterated brilliance of a sun isn't enough."

The "carbon-based pests," having re-established their societies with frightening speed, were once again proving to be the universe's most consistent source of bewildered amusement. And their most egregious re-invention? The Terran "Influencer" Plague.

The Scourge of the "Influencers" and the Cosmic Backlash

The Wi-Fi signals had blossomed into a full-blown, pervasive network, and with it, came the resurgence of "social media." But this time, it was worse. The "influencers" had returned, stronger, louder, and more visually demanding than ever.

"They're spending their infinitesimally short lives creating 'content'," Professor Pulsar explained, his beams flashing across the new cosmos, his irritation palpable. "They broadcast images of themselves performing mundane tasks, wearing 'fashionable' carbon-fiber coverings, or consuming 'artisanal' carbon-based sustenance. And other 'humans' then express 'approval' through digital iconography. The sheer waste of processing power is astronomical!"

"I've been hit by one of their 'drones'!" barked Mars, his newly re-formed surface once again scarred by tiny, metallic objects. "They were trying to get a 'panoramic shot' for something called an 'Instagram reel'! Do they not understand the concept of a private, desolate, rust-colored landscape?"

Saturn, his rings now somewhat more symmetrical (though still fragile), looked genuinely appalled. "Their 'content' is so… uninspired. No galactic nebulae. No spectacular solar flares. Just endless variations of themselves standing in front of things. It's a profound insult to visual artistry!"

Jupiter, once again proud of his imposing size, scoffed. "They're still trying to send me their ridiculous 'probes'! But this time, they're complaining about 'Wi-Fi lag' when their telemetry doesn't transmit instantaneously! Do they think I'm some sort of cosmic router?" He puffed out a particularly pungent cloud of methane in annoyance.

The Triangulum Galaxy, usually so artistically detached, found itself surprisingly invested in the spectacle. "It's a modern tragedy, really," Azure mused, observing the frantic human activity from afar. "All that potential for true cosmic creativity, squandered on manufactured 'authenticity' and the pursuit of digital 'likes.' It's like watching a star collapse, not into a glorious supernova, but into a particularly dull brown dwarf."

Magna, the Large Magellanic Cloud, was actually fascinated. "I heard they even have 'challenges' where they try to consume as much carbon-based food as possible in a short period! That's almost as wild as a galactic collision! I might start my own 'star-eating challenge' just to spite them!" Debbie was already designing a filter that would make her dark nebula appear "thicker" for optimal "engagement."

Old Man Quasar, however, was in a state of unparalleled, gleeful contempt. "This is even better than the last cycle! They've perfected their self-inflicted misery! They're actively seeking external validation from tiny, glowing rectangles while the very fabric of their universe continues its inevitable march towards… well, me." His event horizon rippled with dark satisfaction. "It's the ultimate cosmic reality show, and they're the unwitting, endlessly entertaining cast."

The Looming Inevitability and the Cosmic Cringe

Despite the renewed expansion and the galaxies' attempts at "gentrification," the ancient cosmic entities felt the familiar, underlying rhythm of the universe. The memory of the Big Crunch was etched into their re-formed consciousness, a ticking clock that subtly influenced their observations of humanity.

"The patterns are undeniable," stated Old Man Solstice, his voice resonating with an aged, weary wisdom from the Council of Ancient White Dwarfs. "They are repeating the previous cycle's self-destructive tendencies. The 'influencer' phenomenon is merely an accelerated symptom of their ingrained narcissism and short-sightedness. It's… frankly, depressing."

Bartholomew, ever the optimist, tried to argue. "But perhaps this time, the proliferation of 'information' will lead to a greater understanding of the cosmos! They'll see the glory of my newly optimized spiral arms and be inspired to reach for stellar greatness!"

Luna scoffed. "They'll probably just use it to argue about which 'filter' makes their planet look 'better.' Or to create 'viral challenges' involving orbiting debris."

The collective cosmic cringe was almost palpable. The universe, having gone through the ordeal of being squashed and re-expanded, found itself watching the same old play, with the same peculiar actors, making the same baffling mistakes. The "A WORLD REBORN" was indeed a reality, but it seemed the "lost" lessons of the previous Big Bang had yet to be truly learned.

The irony was not lost on the ancient ones. Billions of years of cosmic evolution, expansion, contraction, and rebirth, only to return to a society obsessed with digital approval and viral fads. As the stars of the new universe blazed with youthful energy, the faint, incessant hum of a million "influencer" broadcasts echoed from the blue-green dot of Terra, a symphony of triviality against the backdrop of an infinitely grand, and infinitely cynical, cosmos. The ultimate cosmic joke, it seemed, was that the punchline always involved humanity.