Our world is dying, only a couple of days left.

How did it happen?

I don't know everything, I don't know the majority of the story, but allow me to tell what is known.

Our universe was infinite, in a way beyond anyone's comprehension. There were many wonderful and exotic planes of existence, far bigger than anyone's understanding and imagination. For each, there were continuous parallel dimensions where the almost exact copies of your world existed, the closest ones varied only by a nano-second angle of a butterfly flapping its wing, in the farthest one your planet could be destroyed by a spatial calamity... and that was only a fraction of everything, a fraction that I was capable of remembering and mentioning.

There was no beginning to time, what existed in the past, always had a predecessor. The most advanced civilizations were connected by a global network and conquered or united a vast amount of universes.

Regardless of that, their achievements could be measured as nothing, compared to the vastness of our existence. That's what allowed systems like ours to exist without any external interference, to develop and grow on their own, to perhaps, one day, join the global network and push our limits even further.

Perhaps... one day... If the end of all existence didn't happen.

The universe was infinite in many ways, but there was one rule. Nothing was immune to death. Of course, there were beings that existed for all the infinite duration of their timelines, some even existing at many times at once and many places at once, but even they could be destroyed.

There were people who wanted to prevent that. To live forever... and they found the way.

They only had to harness the power of what was infinite.

Don't ask me the details, because I don't know them. I only know, it was all fear of death and greed.

Our vast, unimaginably infinite world, would collapse and turn into a finite construct. The logical conclusion was simple. There can't be infinitely many beings in a finite world. Infinitely many of us would have to die, so a finite amount of people could exist forever, immune to death, aging, sickness, and any form of damage or physical pain.

They closed themselves in their almost imperishable capsules, fending off attackers and hoping that nobody will touch them until the deed is done.

Betrayals and scheming in upper echelons were never more common. Father against daughter, son against mother, wife against husband.

As I'm writing this, I'm sitting in one of the capsules... but it's not the one that leads to immortality. It's the one that leads to reincarnation to a temporary, primitive pocket world, to prolong the inevitable. That's the only technology our nation was capable of... and there exists only one capsule per billion people.

How did I get there? Pure luck. The old man inside died, so it crash-landed back on our planet... in the middle of a city. People around me were, and still are killing each other to get in, while all I did was snuck past the havoc.

I'm safe inside, they are all unaware that it's too late for them. They're killing each other for no purpose, but I am unable to tell them this.

It's not like it matters anymore.