The year is 2242. Humanity, having finally figured out how to make toast land butter-side up consistently, was facing a new crisis: extreme boredom. Space travel was as commonplace as taking the hover-bus to work, immortality serums were two-for-one at the corner drugstore, and the most popular reality show was "Galactic Bake-Off" where contestants sculpted cakes in zero gravity.

Then, He arrived.

Not with a bang, or a whimper, but a sort of cosmic whooshing sound, like a thousand vacuums being turned on at once. A being of pure light, shimmering with an intensity that made sunglasses obsolete, materialized above the United Nations headquarters in New York.

"Greetings, Earthlings!" the being boomed, his voice somehow a perfect blend of dulcet lullaby tones and grumpy grandfather grumblings. "I am Salocin, and I've come with a proposition."

A collective gasp went through the assembled humans, followed by a flurry of camera flashes and the frantic tweeting of news drones.

Salocin chuckled, a sound like a supernova giggling. "Settle down kids, settle down. Now, as I was saying, I've come with an offer. My realm, a dimension of pure joy, enlightenment, and all-you-can-eat space buffets, is open to a select few of you."

He paused for dramatic effect, then added with a mischievous twinkle, "Specifically, those from countries that have stars on their flags."

The room erupted in chaos. Delegates from the United States, China, Australia, and various other star-spangled nations jumped for joy, high-fiving and chanting "U-S-A! U-S-A!" Meanwhile, the Canadian representative fainted, the British delegation started a heated debate on the philosophical definition of a "star," and the French ambassador frantically tried to sew some sparkly sequins onto his flag.

Salocin, thoroughly enjoying the pandemonium, floated above it all, occasionally zapping someone with a beam of light that caused them to breakdance uncontrollably.

Then with another cosmic whoosh, he was gone, leaving behind a planet in utter disarray. Wars were declared over disputed asterisks on ancient banners, black markets for star-shaped iron-on patches flourished, and vexillologists became the most sought-after professionals on Earth.

As for Salocin, he sat back in his universal recliner, sipping on Betelgeuse-Cola™ and watching the chaos unfold on his interdimensional TV. "Ah, humans," he sighed contentedly, "never a dull moment."

The Great Flag-Based Ascension of 2242 became a turning point in history, a testament to humanity's enduring ability to find the most absurd reasons for conflict, even when offered paradise on a cosmic platter. And somewhere, in a dimension of pure joy and enlightenment, Salocin was still chuckling, forever entertained by the ridiculousness of it all.