Thirteen point eight billion years ago, an unimaginably small point, infinitely dense and hot, exploded. Within the first second, at temperatures above 10 billion degrees Fahrenheit, every particle needed to build stars, planets and people was already filling the cosmos. Did that blast make one universe or many? Some people believe we already have the answer: our universe ended in 1988, and all of us were quietly shipped to the one next door.
Atoms, souls and a furious pope
The idea is older than it sounds. The Stoics of the 3rd century BCE believed the universe had an eternal soul, while the physical world wore out and regenerated in an endless cycle. The atomists, philosophers of the 5th century BCE, saw our world as a happy accident, the lucky result of countless atoms crashing together in an infinite void. And if colliding atoms could make one universe, they could make an infinite number of them. The Stoics much preferred their own version, which left room for the divine. One universe at a time, please.
Around 100 AD, early Buddhist philosophers split the difference. The universe has no beginning and no end, it cycles through creation and destruction, and ours is one of many, many parallel worlds, each running its own cycle. They added that worrying about how it all began is a waste of time. The work is in the present.
Aristotle wanted none of it. He put Earth at the center of a limited universe, the only inhabited world there was, and nobody seriously challenged him for about 1,800 years, until Copernicus argued that Earth circles the sun. After the telescope arrived in 1609, Galileo showed that Jupiter had moons orbiting it. Pope Paul V set the Inquisition on him, and Cardinal Robert Bellarmine delivered the order: "Abstain completely from teaching or defending this doctrine and opinion or from discussing it."
Galileo agreed, then pulled off a masterstroke of petty genius. His Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems staged conversations in which a brilliant Copernican and a mischievous scholar made a fool of a dull-witted follower of Aristotle, a character named for the Italian word for simpleton. Pope Urban VIII was enraged to find his own words in that character's mouth. Galileo was convicted of heresy, threatened with torture, stripped of everything he'd written or ever would write, and confined to house arrest for the rest of his life, nine years. He spent them writing Two New Sciences, a book that would one day shape Albert Einstein.
A Big Bang machine in Geneva
Beneath Geneva, Switzerland, sits the Large Hadron Collider, the world's largest and most powerful particle accelerator, run by CERN, the European Organization for Nuclear Research. It started up on September 10, 2008. Inside, two beams race at close to the speed of light before colliding, a feat CERN compares to firing two needles 10 kilometers apart so that they meet halfway. In 2012, physicists there announced the Higgs boson, the so-called God particle, after a 40-year hunt. What happens inside the collider is basically a recreation of the first moments of the universe.
CERN has been at this since December 1949. Its first accelerator, the synchrocyclotron, fired up three years after ground was broken in 1954 and ran for 33 years. Later machines went after a nagging question: the Big Bang should have made equal amounts of matter and antimatter, which would have annihilated each other and left nothing at all. Excavation for the Large Electron-Positron Collider wrapped up in 1988.
The year the world ended
That year, according to a group of internet theorists called the Anomaly Truthers, a catastrophe erased humanity and the universe scrambled to patch the glitch. As proof, believers point to the World Wide Web appearing, fully formed, out of CERN, and to a wave of shared false memories. We weren't wiped out, the theory goes; we were flung into a parallel timeline close enough to pass for home. It looks like home, but it isn't.
Those false memories now have a name: the Mandela Effect, after Fiona Broome, a self-described paranormal researcher, discovered that crowds of people shared her vivid memory of Nelson Mandela dying in prison in the 1980s. He actually died in December 2013, at 95, surrounded by family. Then came the rest. Hasbro says the Monopoly man never wore a monocle. The Fruit of the Loom logo never had a cornucopia. The children's books were always The Berenstain Bears, never Berenstein.
Sheri Lynch watched it happen in real time with three college students. Handed a Pikachu box, one of them frowned and asked, "why is his tail like that?" and then, "Where's the black part?" Pikachu's tail has no black tip. The students hunted the box for trademarks, desperate for it to be a knockoff.
In 2022, a University of Chicago psychology professor and a Dartmouth PhD candidate showed subjects 40 sets of images, one real and two doctored. Most people did fine. But on seven images, including the Monopoly man, the Fruit of the Loom logo and C-3PO, subjects picked the same wrong version. The researchers could only suggest there may be more than one cause. As Sheri put it, even the researchers went, this is weird, we got nothing.
In a 2022 study, strangers from all walks of life got seven images wrong in exactly the same way, picking the monocle, the cornucopia, and the black-tipped Pikachu tail. Believers say that's because the world ended in 1988 and we all woke up in a slightly different one.
Portals and a fight over time
Dr. Astrid Stuckelberger is a Swiss scientist who has worked with the World Health Organization and is considered a leading expert on aging. She claims CERN physicists told her there's a portal beneath the facility. "There are beings from portals coming in and out." The physicists, she says, count 17 dimensions of reality, and military agencies are battling over time itself. "They're trying to change time."
String theory, which describes reality as vibrating strings rather than particles, allows for ten dimensions. And in 2009, two physicists warned that the Higgs boson might be so abhorrent to nature that creating it would ripple backward through time and stop the collider before it could make one.
A soldier from 2036
In 2000, a man calling himself John Titor began posting on timetravelinstitute.com, claiming to be a soldier from 2036 with the 177th Temporal Reconnaissance Unit. His mission had been to fetch an IBM 5100 computer from 1975 to debug old programs, and he'd been picked because his grandfather led the team that built it. He then stopped off in 2000 to warn his family in Florida. Asked about his two-year-old self, he answered, "He calls me uncle." He predicted a Russian nuclear strike in 2015 and a second American civil war, neither of which came to pass, and told the people of 2000 that their era was seen as full of lazy self-centered civically ignorant sheep.
A private detective named Mike Lynch (no relation) found no trace of him. The Hoax Hunter team pointed to Larry Haber, a Florida entertainment lawyer with a computer-scientist brother, and a John Titor Foundation that existed only as a post office box in Kissimmee, Florida.
Physicist Neil Turok offers a gentler thought: even if a mirror universe runs backward in time, its variations would differ from ours, so there's probably only one you. Which world line you're in may not matter much anyway. The dog still needs to go out.
