Prologue

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It's a fact. The universe expands until the point where it stops, and then contracts, those billions of years repeating themselves backwards. Until the Big Bang, and then it all starts again.

Scientists can't calculate how many times this has happened, but they think it's in the fifties. The same people doing almost the same thing fifty times. 

50 9/11 attacks.
150 world wars.
And a hell of a lot of physics lessons.

That's the way it always has been and always will be. It was a stroke of luck that they figured it out a few years ago, in 2059. Of course, we won't remember next time, and there's a chance that they'll never find out, which makes the end more frightening.

In the last year of expansion, time starts slowing, so gradually you barely notice it. Except you do at some point, because you've definitely been in Spanish for more than 50 minutes, despite what the clock in your classroom says, and surely your best friend used to speak faster. And for a moment, it stops. 

Then everything starts going backwards.

We're not even aware it's happening, apparently. When time stops, our life stops, they say. Everyone dies at once as the universe starts folding in on itself.

But there have always been survivors. Anomalies.

I just never expected to be one of them.

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