"Birth, and copulation, and death.
That's all the facts when you come to brass tacks:
Birth, and copulation, and death.
I've been born, and once is enough.
You don't remember, but I remember,
Once is enough. "
Eventually most people realize the emperor has no clothes. We are essentially bags of meat designed to create copies of ourselves. Apart from that, there is no purpose other than the one you assign yourself. Sheeple will think about a lack of pre-ordained purpose and suddenly feel lost. The rest of us will see it as all the permission we need to enjoy the fuck out of the time we've been given.