Musings about the implications of an infinite universe or a multiverse that spawns an infinite number of parallel universes: there would be countless versions of each person, in every possible variation
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Astronomers' observations of the universe lead to the conclusion that the universe is infinite in size. And some scientists speculate that the universe could have come from a "multiverse" that makes countless universes through random fluctuations of energy. Then there is the "Many Worlds" hypothesis of Hugh Everett that interprets the randomness of events on the smallest scales - a particle like an electron is in all possible states until it is observed, then it takes on a particular state whose probability can be calculated but otherwise occurs randomly - by saying that the universe splits so that all the possibilities happen in different parallel universes. What do any of these possibilities mean for us? If there are essentially an infinite number of universes, or if our universe is infinite in size, then there are an infinite number of each of us, including all possible variations and life histories.
1. Try to imagine your place in a universe infinite
With no end to time or space, how does each of us fit in it?
Everything that is possible occurs sometime, somewhere
No matter how improbable, it happens here and there
The basic idea's not very complicated
You and all else are exactly duplicated
Over and over and over and over again
An infinite number of you in a universe without end
2. Try to imagine your place in an infinite multiverse
With 10 dimensions of space, creating whole worlds in random bursts
Everything that can occur, does so in countless locations
All that there are or were, in all possible variations
The general idea has some complications
Different versions, all possible manifestations
Over and over and over and over again
Infinite variations of you in a multiverse without end
Ending:
Each of my alter egos must live with the frustration
That his life comes and goes in complete isolation
From each other version of me for which there's no information
Whose existence and life story must be left to the imagination