We Already Live in a Multiverse (Kind Of)
You might not have noticed, but we’re all already living in parallel realities. And not because of any science fiction wizardry, but because of algorithms.
The version of the world you see online? It’s not the same one I see. You and I could both search the exact same thing on Google, and we’d get wildly different results. Your TikTok is showing you videos about woodworking and raccoons stealing sandwiches, while mine is trying to convince me I need seventeen types of mushroom powder to fix my life. It’s not just different content—it’s a different world entirely. And sometimes it's the exact same world but through an extremely different lens.
We used to have something close to a shared reality, right? We all watched the same three news channels, rented the same VHS tapes, yelled about the same Lost season finale (You're wrong, it was actually great, you just didn't get it back then). Now, thanks to social media, we each have a personalized universe tailored to our specific likes, fears, and weirdly specific niche obsessions. You live in your version of the universe. I live in mine. And we occasionally peek into someone else’s and go, “Huh. I thought we were on the same planet.”
That’s a multiverse, baby. It’s already here. We didn’t need a portal or a glitch in the matrix. We just needed a smartphone and a like button.
The Swipe-ification of Storytelling
But it goes deeper than that. We don’t just live in separate algorithm universes—we’ve also forgotten how to stay put in one.
And that’s where the multiverse comes in. Because here’s the thing: multiverse stories let you swipe through realities without ever committing to one. You don’t like what’s happening in Universe A? That’s fine. We'll be swiping to Universe B in T minus 30 seconds, where everything’s slightly different and also the exact same. Still bored? Don’t worry, Universe C has a hot dog-fingered version of your mom who’s also a kung fu master. There’s always something new to look at.
It’s storytelling for the terminally distracted.
Our collective attention span is so fried, we can’t even do a regular linear plot anymore. Multiverse stories feel like they were written by someone with twelve browser tabs open, a boiling pot on the stove, and a dog that needs to be walked. And I mean that with love. It’s chaotic. It’s creative. It’s also the only thing that makes sense in a world where we’ve trained ourselves to crave something new every seven seconds.
Nostalgia, but Make It Fractured
It's also about our inability to commit. That why there’s something deeply comforting about the multiverse when it comes to reboots, retcons, and resurrections. Is your favorite character dead? Bring in the version of them from Earth-827. Want to erase the last ten movies because they were a mess? Just bring in James Gunn and hop to a different timeline. Continuity is for cowards!
The multiverse lets us have the cosmic cake and eat it too. All the endings. All the versions. No consequences. No finality. It’s storytelling with an undo button. And it’s deeply addictive.
I mean, look at Marvel. They used to build stories slowly, carefully. Now? They just crack open the multiverse and pour every possible variant into the blender. Why write a tight, emotional narrative when you can throw thirty X-Men on screen and call it a multiversal event?
It’s not lazy—it’s just… very online.
We Want Meaning, But We Also Want Options
We live in a world built on endless choices. We don’t eat the same breakfast every day, we don’t wear the same outfit twice if we can help it, and we’re always one click away from a newer, shinier version of whatever we just bought. So why, in a world where everything is customizable and replaceable, would we ever settle for just one storyline? Multiverse stories speak to that itch. They’re like trying on different lives the way we scroll through online shopping carts—“Add to cart,” “Try it in another color,” “Oops, I want a villain origin story now.” We’re not wired for commitment anymore. We’re wired for options. The multiverse gives us a narrative playground where we don’t have to choose just one version of reality—we get to flip through all of them just like we doom-scroll through Netflix.
Is That a Bad Thing?
Not necessarily. I mean, don’t get me wrong—sometimes it feels like culture is collapsing under the weight of its own endless options. But there’s also something exciting about being in this multiversal moment. It’s messy, but it’s also full of potential.
We’re experimenting. We’re pushing boundaries. We’re telling stories that couldn’t have existed ten years ago. And yeah, some of them are confusing, and most of them end with someone talking to a version of themselves that has a beard and regrets. But there’s something beautiful in that, too.
It’s chaos, but it’s relatable chaos. It's totally insane and makes no sense but have you watched the news lately?
Final Swipe
So yeah, the multiverse isn’t just a trend. It’s a mirror (a black mirror if you will). It reflects how we live, how we scroll, how we communicate, and how we see the world. We’re living in algorithmic echo chambers, swiping through realities, remixing nostalgia, and desperately trying to find something—anything—that feels real.
That’s why every movie, show, game, and meme feels like it came from another dimension. Because in a way, it did. Yours.
So next time you’re watching a multiverse story and thinking, “Why are there suddenly three versions of this guy?” Just remember: Maybe the real question is… “Why are there suddenly three versions of me?”
