All we truly know for sure is that we're going to die someday. That, and that our winglets always sprout exactly on our fifth birthcircuit; no more, no less. And that the dragon-kestrel flocks emerge to breed each smallmoonset. And that every hundredth orbit, one newborn of our species is chosen to broadcast its mindbeams planetwide, elevating one of our populace to Most High Ruler, and destining one other to be dewinged, defanged, exsanguinated, and thrown to the Sentience Vacuum-Pits. But this is all we know that's inevitable about life. Within those parameters, your happiness is entirely up to you.