Cool Jerry sighs. Puts on sunglasses. Drives into the void.
The problem isn't that the multiverse is infinite. The problem is that now, every universe is equally adjacent. No more "Central Finite Curve" to separate the Ricks who are gods from the Ricks who are sentient lumps of mashed potatoes. They’re all bleeding into one another.
He opens a manual, wood-paneled doorway into a shimmering crossroad between dimensions. It looks like a cosmic truck stop—diners made of bone, gas stations selling bottled regrets, and a lot of weary-looking travelers from timelines that didn't make it into the "premium" multiverse.
Rick nods. One small concession. He doesn't rebuild the fence. Instead, he recalibrates the portal gun not to prune realities, but to bookmark one.