First thing I would do is accept congratulatory calls from both heads of Zaphod Beeblebrox. Then, it would be time to get to work!
First decree? No more metric system. Creation is too unique and inconsistent to have everything expressed by a simple base 10 system of measurement.
Next, I would establish several satellite offices from which to commence by imperial duties; at the very edge of my expanding domain with the remnants of what happened at its beginning just so I could look outside and see what’s off in the distance; another set at a suitable distance from the BOSS (Baryon Oscillation Spectroscopic Survey) Great Wall so I’d have the best view of its colorful galactic holiday lights; one set near the event horizon at a Super Galactic Black Hole for when I wanted to get away from everything, and a Terran base of operations in a luxury box at Highmark Stadium in Orchard Park, NY for home games (GO BILLS!!!).
I’d cut a few ribbons at various nebulae each day to celebrate the creation of new stars, welcome a couple of new Type II civilizations each week and make sure they know the rules, resolve a bunch of “tastes great/less filling” disputes around the universe, and finally get some warning signs posted for gamma ray burst lanes near impending neutron star collisions or active black holes. Nothing like an unannounced, all-powerful ripple through space time to ruin your day.
I’d have to decide on some kind of outfit for my official portrait. Lots of nasty politics in that – whose base elements from which to make the fabric, what color spectrum to choose, and forgot about any kind of icons or designs in the uniform. There’s no way to appease everyone. The thought of posing in the nude comes to mind, but I’m sure there are enough archetypal tales revolving around an emperor and no clothes across the many civilizations in the universe that it would be problematic.
It would be nice to foster some kind of legacy so my time in office could be remembered – besides ditching the metric system. Perhaps instituting a rotation of colors for the doppler shift. Why should only blue and red get the glory?
I would DEFINITELY champion the creation of the Xeno Beastiarium at the center of the universe for all species and civilizations to come and discover each other. Not really a zoo, cause that implies superiority depending who’s on what side of the fence. More of an open market where every creature is recognized, celebrated, and admired for their uniqueness. This would also keep it a very fresh and updated experience with no two stellar days the same as the mix of living beings would constantly be changing based on who happens to be around at that time.
Oooooo! Time. Yes, I’d need to do something about time. Create a universal unit of chronological measurement established around the speed of light constant. Can’t base it on distance covered since space is expanding and often warped. Plus a parsec is selfishly determined as the distance at which the mean radius of the Earth’s orbit subtends an angle of one second of arc. Silly humans, it’s always about them. Sounds like it’s time to form … a committee!
How about leading by example? Set some new norms for behavior across the universe, like lifeguards being able to tell people who’ve been drinking in the pool and haven’t stepped out in the last hour to relieve themselves that their water privileges are suspended for the next hour. Or, institute a mandatory minute (actual chronological unit TBD) of silence universe-wide just to find out what other sounds might be out there. Maybe switch things around like start with the innermost utensil at formal dinners or make sentient species earn their handmade kite/parachute/doll repair certifications first in order to procreate.
I would make it illegal (with a hefty fine) for citizens to travel intergalactically while having a pet in their lap while driving/flying/in control of the vessel. Ketchup on a hot dog would be a capital offense. Same thing with dipping wings in ranch dressing. I don’t care where your species evolved from, some things just ain’t right. Period.