I love when I have this dream — the one where I’m a graduate of the Planetary Art School, and my final project is to create a planet. The more original, the better.

You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve tried! I’ve made magical worlds where every being had a special gift, and the whole planet was a joyful mess. I’ve made planets with no humans, just entirely new species, and naming them all was half the fun. Some planets imploded spectacularly — something always went wrong. Others turned out so well I honestly wanted to move there myself.

But as a planet creator, I knew this job wasn’t just about flinging random stuff onto a floating orb and watching what happens. You had to build connections. Predict how things would evolve, how species would interact. You had to design meaning, not just physics.

It’s the kind of dream you wake up from in a deeply philosophical mood. And you suddenly criticize your own world a little less. Because you start to wonder: If Earth and its people were my graduation project... how would I fix the parts that didn’t go to plan?