In the beginning, there was nothing. Then shit got real and nothing exploded. All the atoms that would one day form the universe flew out into the surrounding space and looked for somewhere nice to sit where they could read a book or listen to some music or have a nice sleep. Mr Rochester looked down at this and was happy, his experiment had gone well. He watched from the parlour high above as the universe took shape, with one particular planet out of all the billions he had made taking his interest. This tiny speck seemed pretty, it was blue and green and so went delightfully with his curtains.
But the tiny planet was boring and would quickly lose his interest so he decided to add tiny little moving things. Unfortunately the first batch froze to death so he set up a candle next to his universe and tried again. While sheep were interesting, and he gained a sadistic pleasure from watching lions rip apart the zebras he put next to them, he still wanted more and in an attempt to get the very most out of his experiment he made some odd looking animals that resembled him, the almighty Edward Rochester. As an afterthought he chucked in a few monkeys so the mini-rochesters made more sense.
He watched them a bit longer and then went off to have some delightful escapades with a young woman who worked in his house. Meanwhile the humans became barbarians and became closer to the monkeys, rather than closer to him. When he came back this upset him, so he went down to tell them they were a disappointment and ended up being sent blind and broken by them for the crime of being insane. When he went back to his parlour, he wasn’t happy and so he abandoned his experiment to go live in a smaller house with only a couple of staff, surrounded by trees.
The experiment meanwhile carried on without him, perpetuated by the writing of a book called Jane Eyre, which the people said was the word of Edward Rochester himself. This book was used to make sure all the draperies were matching for the next few thousands of years until enough time had passed by that people no longer believed he came down to Earth to sacrifice his eyesight for them. They found new explanations for the world, they named his will forces, and they used the monkeys as evidence for evolution.
Those who still believed in him believed that one day he would come back and show them the true way, they would be taken into the parlour and given afternoon tea. Those who didn’t believe in him thought that the lamp would go out and they would freeze to death with nothing afterwards. Some people believed that if they weren’t good in their life on Earth, they would be relegated to the locked room after they died to be tortured by Mrs Rochester.
Eventually he was forgotten entirely and the book that was written about his time on Earth was treated as merely a fiction. The scientific arguments for the existence of the world were treated as the ultimate truth and so eventually there was enough advancement that they built a spaceship in order to fly to the moon. Its very existence was more proof for science over religion and so bigger and better spaceships were made to find more truth, as scientific theory became less and less opinion and more and more fact.
Eventually they made it, they made it to the edge of the universe. But they found nothing, no God, no truth. Just the burnt ashes of what may have once been a house.
But of course, it sounds silly when you put it like that. You can make up whatever rubbish you want with as little evidence as you want, but if not enough people believe you, you’re just a crackpot.