I'd like to complain about my current cell provider.

Is it turtles all the way down?

Hindu cosmology posited that our universe sits on the back of an elephant.

Norse mythology suggests that a big ugly sea snake called Jörmungand is clutching onto our planet with its tail, and when the creature gets bored and releases this big blue marble, we’re all gonna die.

Arthur C. Clarke posited that humans are the result of space sewage.

Our Uncle Barnabry says the solar system is an alien breakfast buffet.

There are countless competing theories aiming to explain our place in the big picture, but we’re pretty sure this design’s close to the truth. See, we're not precariously balanced on the back of anything. Nothing’s holding us up. We didn’t come about just because aliens made a poo. And Uncle Barnabry spends a lot of time with refrigerant, so he’s not really a credible source.

Instead, what’s more likely is this: Our universe is only one tiny cell inside a larger being. It’s gotta be an unpredictable beast, this thing that contains our universe. And it’s probably destructive. But it’s efficient, too, when it wants to be. So that settles it, then: Our universe is a cell inside the belly of a domestic house cat.

Look for our paper in your favorite peer-reviewed journals soon.

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