The prophet sat in silent meditation. The universe had consented to disclose its secrets at last, and a multitude of possible futures opened up to him. He could choose a thread and follow it as far as he wished, see every possible course his life could take, experience it as though it was actually happening to him.
In his meditations, he experienced countless loves, families, and periods of soul-crushing loneliness. He tried his hand at art, music, and philosophy. He invented new technologies and mastered a thousand talents. He would not give up until he found his calling, discovered his best possible future. Only then could he set events in motion and ensure that it came to be.
He would accept nothing less than changing the world. He had within himself the ability to affect the lives of every other person on the planet. He gave speeches, wrote books, and won awards. He tried television interviews and online video streams. Some of the threads ended in violence, assassination, death. Others ended in failure. He sorted through thread after thread, looking for the one perfect path.
Over time, the threads began to dwindle. Options disappeared as he passed them by, unsatisfied by any of the choices he had found. Possible partners, loves, and families faded into non-existence. Skills atrophied and vanished before they had ever started to develop. The paths converged and narrowed until there was but one image left: an old man, alone in a room, his head full of unfulfilled desires as he breathed his last breath and left the world without ever impacting it in the slightest.