If the universe is infinite, as some scientists believe, there is a probability of one that there are infinite copies of me somewhere out there. Matter can only arrange itself in certain ways dictated to by the laws of physics. Organic matter have even fewer ways to function. Life? Life depends on an infinitely smaller number of options.

But if the universe is infinite, then those patterns are repeated infinitely too. That means that we’re not only not alone in the universe. We’re part of an infinite army of near identical clones. There are millions, billions, trillions, quadrillion of Colins out there. There are millions, billions, trillions, and quadrillions of Earths out there. In fact, if the universe is infinite, the maths is always n+1, where n is an infinite number of Earths or Colins.

This is the type of head-bending stuff that my so-called husband subject me to at one in the morning when neither of us can sleep, and we just lay awake and talk about whatever falls into our little heads. Like now.

Now I have to think of all those unknown Colins out there who are just like me, but also different. Some are poor, some are rich. Some are straight, some are gay. In fact, there are infinite numbers of gay, straight, rich, and poor Colins. For each of the subcategories, n+1 apply too.

I think I’m going to go and lie down in a dark room in the cellar. This infinite army of me is out there, and that can only be bad news for the universe. Sorry, Universe. I didn’t mean this. It’s not my fault. It’s your own fault for being infinite, universe.

N+1. It’s a mathematical law.