You're reached the last stage of Spore. The thrusters are engaged, ground control is cheering, and the g-forces are crushing you into your seat. Perhaps you are at the helm of a rocket. Or a saucer. Maybe it's a flying duck. Carl Sagan's "Cosmos" Will-o'-wisp? The Oscar Meyer Wienermobile? Whatever shape your galactic chariot is in, the whole of the universe awaits, and your species is no longer a cosmic virgin.