Every generation holds that their existence is a game; a game with shifting parameters that none of our predecessors have ever managed to finish.
Nobody even knows whether the game is finite any more. It used to be, back in the days of the Templars, searching for their slippery Holy Grail. The rules of this game state that either the Holy Grail exists, and once found it shall spill all the secrets of the cosmos; or it does not.
That means that men gave their lives - either during a conflict, or because it expired during the great chase - in the name of a reliquary or ossuary whose very existence is subject to doubt.
Of course, only the most durable and outstanding citizens are able to even participate. God's possession does not fall into the laps of the unworthy. The vast rump of us that remain are consigned to having to watch, and wait anxiously for news.
These days, even the Rosicrucians (one of the groups who searched for the Grail) have a website - complete with a phone number, but the search and the game have progressed. Now, the outstanding ones work at CERN, unpeeling the seemingly infinite onion of sub-atomic particles.
The message is the same, though: there is a secret, and it is up to the most able of us to discover what it is. Upon discovering it, the whole of creation is ours to read.
Some scientists have been bold enough to suggest that we are nothing more than characters in a very elaborate computer game being played out in virtual reality. As such, our deaths are no more serious than the programmer having to reset the deceased, and starting them up again with new parameters.
Taking these unscientific ideas to their conclusion, then, the attempt to re-create the Big Bang at CERN is no more than a subroutine within an incomprehensibly massive piece of code - and its accomplishment has already been described (even if it is not possible) somewhere within that code.
