“Explain it like I’m five” is one of the most common prompts people give ChatGPT. Whether it’s inflation, car engines, or the internet, it’s great at breaking things down. Not just into simpler words, but into imagery that clicks.
But what happens when we ask AI to explain something nobody really understands? The biggest cosmic mysteries. The stuff even top scientists are still scratching their heads over. Could AI help not by giving us facts, but by shifting how we think?
That was the idea behind a little experiment I ran with ChatGPT. I asked it to explain the most unknowable aspects of the universe – things like dark matter and the Big Bang – in a way a five-year-old (or, let’s be honest, most adults) might understand.
The results were surprising. Instead of straight answers, I got analogies. Metaphors that didn’t just explain, but reframed the way I thought about the unknown. And that’s the point.
Humans understand the world through analogy. We compare the unfamiliar to the familiar – electricity like water, black holes like whirlpools, AI like a very smart parrot. Creativity, as Steve Jobs said, is “just connecting things.” Analogies are often where those connections start.
But our go-to comparisons can limit us, too. That’s why I wanted to see if AI could spark new ones – fresh metaphors that reframe how we approach the almost unthinkable. Not because ChatGPT knows more than we do, but because it connects dots we might not. It borrows from unexpected places, mixes metaphors, and sometimes stumbles into something surprisingly insightful.
So what happens when you ask AI to explain the universe – not like a scientist, but like an imaginative five-year-old? Let’s find out.
What’s beyond the universe?
Okay, imagine you’re in a giant playroom filled with colorful building blocks. You keep crawling to the edge of the room, thinking, there has to be a wall somewhere! But… you never find one. You just keep going. That’s one possibility for the universe – it stretches on forever.
But what if you do find a wall? Well, then you’d want to know: What’s on the other side? Maybe another playroom? Or maybe nothing –but what even is nothing? That’s the mind-bending part: If the universe does have an edge, we have no idea what’s outside it. And if it goes on forever, well… that’s just as weird.
What is dark matter?
Imagine you’re at a party. The room is packed, but instead of seeing people, you only see their balloons floating around. You know people are there – because the balloons are moving, dancing, swirling – but you can’t see them.
That’s dark matter. We can’t see it, touch it, or grab a handful of it. But we know it’s there because galaxies spin in a way that suggests something invisible is holding them together – like an invisible glue or ghostly scaffolding. Whatever this stuff is, it makes up most of the universe… and we still have no idea what it actually is.
Where are the aliens?
Picture this: You get invited to a huge birthday party. You show up, ready to meet tons of new people. But when you walk in… the place is completely empty. No music, no balloons, no cake. Just you.
That’s the Fermi Paradox. The universe is huge, and there are trillions of stars with planets around them. Statistically, there should be tons of aliens. So… where are they? Are we just early to the party? Are they hiding? Did they all get wiped out? Or (spooky thought) are they watching us right now? 👀
What started the Big Bang?
Imagine a magic popcorn kernel. It’s tiny – so tiny it shouldn’t even exist. But then – POP! – it explodes, and suddenly, an entire popcorn factory appears out of nowhere.
That’s kind of what happened with the Big Bang. The universe started as an infinitely small, hot, dense dot… and then, BOOM – it expanded into everything. But where did that dot come from? No one knows. Maybe it popped into existence from nothing. Maybe it was part of a never-ending cycle of Bangs and Crunches. Or maybe… we’re asking the wrong question.
What happens inside a black hole?
Imagine you’re in a canoe, floating toward a massive whirlpool. You try to paddle away, but the current’s too strong – once you get too close, there’s no escape.
That’s a black hole. The edge is called the event horizon, and once you cross it, you’re done. If you fell in, gravity would stretch you into spaghetti (yes, that’s the actual term). And at the very center? No one knows. Maybe a tiny, dense dot. Maybe a gateway to somewhere else. But one thing’s for sure – you’re not coming back.
Could there be other versions of reality?
Imagine you’re reading a choose-your-own-adventure book. You get to a page that says: Do you open the door or run away? You pick “open the door,” and the story continues. But somewhere else, another version of you picked “run away,” and that story plays out too.
That’s the multiverse. It’s the idea that for every decision made – by you, by atoms, by entire galaxies – there could be another universe where a different path was taken. In one universe, maybe you’re reading this with purple hair. In another, Earth never formed. It’s like the universe is playing out every possible storyline… all at once.
What is quantum entanglement?
Imagine you and your twin each have a pair of magical dice. You’re on opposite sides of the planet, but when you roll a 6… your twin instantly rolls a 6 too. Every time. No matter how far apart you are.
That’s kind of like quantum entanglement. When two particles are entangled, they’re weirdly connected – so what happens to one affects the other, instantly, even if they’re light-years apart. Einstein called it “spooky action at a distance,” and honestly… fair. Because no one fully understands how it works. But it’s real. And it’s one of the strangest, coolest things in quantum physics.
The power of tiny metaphors for giant mysteries
Of course, I can’t say for sure that a five-year-old would actually understand any of this. Some of the analogies – like you and your twin with magical dice – still require a pretty vivid imagination. But that’s kind of the point. When people use the “explain it like I’m five” prompt, they’re not really asking for a toddler-level breakdown. What they’re asking for is simplicity, clarity, and a fresh perspective.
That’s what I liked about ChatGPT’s responses. It didn’t just throw facts at me, it gave me reference points. A party, playroom, choose-your-own-adventure book. These weren’t flawless metaphors, but they were useful. They helped reframe the unknowable in ways that felt familiar, playful, and surprisingly accessible.
And maybe that’s where AI tools like this shine. Not in giving us answers to life’s biggest mysteries, but in helping us ask better questions, imagine new comparisons, and see the universe a little differently. Which, when you’re dealing with black holes, multiverses, and spooky cosmic dice is kind of the best we can hope for.
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