“The universe was made by an artist.” Joey stared upwards at the stars. “Who else would have put so much beauty in the trees? There are patterns sculpted into rocks, colors painted on sunsets. Every flower is beyond what I could imagine on my own. It was the artist who made them.”
“Might as well say it was an engineer, cause everything works.” Rona argued tiredly. “If the universe was made by an artist, then nothing should work.”
“If the universe was made by an engineer, nothing would be beautiful,” Joey pointed out.
“Who says the universe was even made?” asked Finnian, glancing from one to the other.
They looked at him simultaneously, with almost identically incredulous expressions.
“Well, duh,” Rona muttered. “What, you think all this just happened?”