Anytime I try to think of it I get kind of overwhelmed tbh. So what are your theories? I don't really know much about science so try to simplify the theories that you have or believe in

squashed flower

ALL AT ONE POINT

Through the calculations begun by Edwin P. Hubble on the galaxies' velocity of recession, we
can establish the moment when all the universe's matter was concentrated in a single point,
before it began to expand in space.

Naturally, we were all there, -- old Qfwfq said, -- where else could we have been? Nobody knew then that there could be space. Or time either: what use did we have for time, packed in
there like sardines?
I say "packed like sardines," using a literary image: in reality there wasn't even space to pack us into. Every point of each of us coincided with every point of each of the others in a single point, which was where we all were. In fact, we didn't even bother one another, except for personality differences, because when space doesn't exist, having somebody unpleasant like Mr.
Pbert
Pberd underfoot all the time is the most irritating thing.
How many of us were there? Oh, I was never able to figure that out, not even
approximately. To make a count, we would have had to move apart, at least a little, and instead
we all occupied that same point. Contrary to what you might think, it wasn't the sort of situation
that encourages sociability; I know, for example, that in other periods neighbors called on one
another; but there, because of the fact that we were all neighbors, nobody even said good
morning or good evening to anybody else.
In the end each of us associated only with a limited number of acquaintances. The ones I remember most are Mrs. Ph(i)Nk0, her friend De XuaeauX, a family of immigrants by the name
of Z'zu, and Mr. Pbert
Pberd
, whom I just mentioned. There was also a cleaning woman --
"maintenance staff" she was called -- only one, for the whole universe, since there was so little
room. To tell the truth, she had nothing to do all day long, not even dusting -- inside one point not
even a grain of dust can enter -- so she spent all her time gossiping and complaining.
Just with the people I've already named we would have been overcrowded; but you have
to add all the stuff we had to keep piled up in there: all the material that was to serve afterwards
to form the universe, now dismantled and concentrated in such a way that you weren't able to tell
what was later to become part of astronomy (like the nebula of Andromeda) from what was
assigned to geography (the Vosges, for example) or to chemistry (like certain beryllium isotopes).
And on top of that, we were always bumping against the Z'zu family's household goods: camp
beds, mattresses, baskets; these Z'zus, if you weren't careful, with the excuse that they were a
large family, would begin to act as if they were the only ones in the world: they even wanted to
hang lines across our point to dry their washing.
But the others also had wronged the Z'zus, to begin with, by calling them "immigrants,"
on the pretext that, since the others had been there first, the Z'zus had come later. This was mere
unfounded prejudice -- that seems obvious to me -- because neither before nor after existed, nor
any place to immigrate from, but there were those who insisted that the concept of "immigrant"
could be understood in the abstract, outside of space and time.
It was what you might call a narrow-minded attitude, our outlook at that time, very petty.
The fault of the environment in which we had been reared. An attitude that, basically, has
remained in all of us, mind you: it keeps cropping up even today, if two of us happen to meet -- at
the bus stop, in a movie house, at an international dentists' convention -- and start reminiscing
about the old days. We say hello -- at times somebody recognizes me, at other times I recognize
somebody -- and we promptly start asking about this one and that one (even if each remembers
only a few of those remembered by the others), and so we start in again on the old disputes, the
slanders, the denigrations. Until somebody mentions Mrs. Ph(i)Nk0 -- every conversation finally
gets around to her -- and then, all of a sudden, the pettiness is put aside, and we feel uplifted,
filled with a blissful, generous emotion. Mrs. Ph(i)Nk0, the only one that none of us has forgotten
and that we all regret. Where has she ended up? I have long since stopped looking for her: Mrs.
Ph(i)Nk0, her bosom, her thighs, her orange dressing gown -- we'll never meet her again, in this
system of galaxies or in any other.
Let me make one thing clear: this theory that the universe, after having reached an
extremity of rarefaction, will be condensed again has never convinced me. And yet many of us
are counting only on that, continually making plans for the time when we'll all be back there
again. Last month, I went into the bar here on the corner and whom did I see? Mr. Pbert
Pberd
.
"What's new with you? How do you happen to be in this neighborhood?" I learned that he's the
agent for a plastics firm, in Pavia. He's the same as ever, with his silver tooth, his loud
suspenders. "When we go back there," he said to me, in a whisper, "the thing we have to make
sure of is, this time, certain people remain out. . . You know who I mean: those Z'zus. . ."
I would have liked to answer him by saying that I've heard a number of people make the
same remark, concluding: "You know who I mean. . . Mr. Pbert
Pberd
. . ."
To avoid the subject, I hastened to say: "What about Mrs. Ph(i)Nk0? Do you think we'll
find her back there again?"
"Ah, yes. . . She, by all means. . ." he said, turning purple.
For all of us the hope of returning to that point means, above all, the hope of being once
more with Mrs. Ph(i)Nk0. (This applies even to me, though I don't believe in it.) And in that bar,as always happens, we fell to talking about her, and were moved; even Mr. Pbert
Pberd
's
unpleasantness faded, in the face of that memory.
Mrs. Ph(i)Nk0's great secret is that she never aroused any jealousy among us. Or any
gossip, either. The fact that she went to bed with her friend, Mr. De XuaeauX, was well known.
But in a point, if there's a bed, it takes up the whole point, so it isn't a question of going to bed,
but of being there, because anybody in the point is also in the bed. Consequently, it was
inevitable that she should be in bed also with each of us. If she had been another person, there's
no telling all the things that would have been said about her. It was the cleaning woman who
always started the slander, and the others didn't have to be coaxed to imitate her. On the subject
of the Z'zu family -- for a change! -- the horrible things we had to hear: father, daughters,
brothers, sisters, mother, aunts: nobody showed any hesitation even before the most sinister
insinuation. But with her it was different: the happiness I derived from her was the joy of being
concealed, punctiform, in her, and of protecting her, punctiform, in me; it was at the same time
vicious contemplation (thanks to the promiscuity of the punctiform convergence of us all in her)
and also chastity (given her punctiform impenetrability). In short: what more could I ask?
And all of this, which was true of me, was true also for each of the others. And for her:
she contained and was contained with equal happiness, and she welcomed us and loved and
inhabited all equally.
We got along so well all together, so well that something extraordinary was bound to
happen. It was enough for her to say, at a certain moment: "Oh, if I only had some room, how I'd
like to make some noodles for you boys!" And in that moment we all thought of the space that
her round arms would occupy, moving backward and forward with the rolling pin over the dough,
her bosom leaning over the great mound of flour and eggs which cluttered the wide board while
her arms kneaded and kneaded, white and shiny with oil up to the elbows; we thought of the
space that the flour would occupy, and the wheat for the flour, and the fields to raise the wheat,
and the mountains from which the water would flow to irrigate the fields, and the grazing lands
for the herds of calves that would give their meat for the sauce; of the space it would take for the
Sun to arrive with its rays, to ripen the wheat; of the space for the Sun to condense from the
clouds of stellar gases and burn; of the quantities of stars and galaxies and galactic masses in
flight through space which would be needed to hold suspended every galaxy, every nebula, every
sun, every planet, and at the same time we thought of it, this space was inevitably being formed,
at the same time that Mrs. Ph(i)Nk0 was uttering those words: ". . . ah, what noodles, boys!" the
point that contained her and all of us was expanding in a halo of distance in light-years and light-
centuries and billions of light-millennia, and we were being hurled to the four corners of the
universe (Mr. Pbert
Pberd
all the way to Pavia), and she, dissolved into I don't know what kind of
energy-light-heat, she, Mrs. Ph(i)Nk0, she who in the midst of our closed, petty world had been
capable of a generous impulse, "Boys, the noodles I would make for you!," a true outburst of
general love, initiating at the same moment the concept of space and, properly speaking, space
itself, and time, and universal gravitation, and the gravitating universe, making possible billions
and billions of suns, and of planets, and fields of wheat, and Mrs. Ph(i)Nk0s, scattered through the
continents of the planets, kneading with floury, oil-shiny, generous arms, and she lost at that very
moment, and we, mourning her loss.

big bang, basically the entire universe as we know it originated in a ball about the size of a “.”

eventually it exploded and the universe is still expanded from that explosion today

some think it will eventually contract and destroy everything

Mr universe cummed inside ms universe and got her pregnant and here we are

big c**

god