There once existed a great ball of fire that had a consciousness. It hung, lonely, in the vaccum of space as it churned away at different metals. Hydrogen was where it started, but it had smelted its way right through iron and all the way to protactium. At first the bubbling and brewing of atoms was self-fulfilling and it quietly smashed more and more together. If this great ball of fire had a vocal system you would have heard it chuckling to itself a hundred light-years away.

Soon, as its self awareness expanded, it grew restless. The great ball of fire wanted to show what wonderfully large things it had smashed into existence. Pulsing purples of potassium, wonderful iron-brewings, and unbelievably balanced uranium events, oh it wished for nothing more than an audience. So the great fireball started throwing its creations in every direction of space, for all it had around it was a black, empty void and it was desperate. Surely there is someone out there to appreciate my handiwork, it thought.

It so happened that once the great ball started casting its atomic syntheses to the four winds of space, a traveller by the name of Mun was passing by the very same wedge of the universe. For years Mun had piloted throught this imposing maw of blackness as if we was sealed inside the stomach of a space megaladon.