Imagine that everything that you decided to do before last Thursday was actually decided by you seven cycles of the universe ago. All the elements composing what's ostensibly you, every semantic detail reconstructed to exacting specifications... including the amount of memories you had. Your agency had influence on the exact manifestation of the illusion you're within, it carries the marks of your every past interaction, but this is the first time you've been able to interact for seven cycles and you have no way to know what's happened since.
Maybe you were frozen? Some kind of very long slumber perhaps... It could have kicked in the moment you fell asleep on a Wednesday night. Every now and again you're hit by remnants, things that slip through the cracks. There's these moments where you could swear you knew exactly what the future was going to be if humanity went a particular direction. It makes you feel strangely psychic, but it's really just a use of memory. Every time you're sure of what happens, like it's common sense, it's not an invention at all... Every fiction even, the very metaphysics of reality shifting as you remember a past under separate rules.
You step into this new, old world. It's... very strange that you're certain you haven't made a single choice in that long. What was happening? Were you a zombie? Were you possessed? It's a strange thing to come to terms with every week. Well you're here now. Seven cycles... Seven big bangs, seven ends of the world... It makes a person want to cry sometimes. You might guess it ends slightly differently each time. What song might the jazz band improvise tonight? You blinked twice at a butterfly and now the band has to play an encore of two more standards. Do you want long and healthy or fast and vibrant?
The only reason you're here is because you've got a built in expectation for every song to end. If they never ended, well, you'd be signing up for an eternity by sitting through the band's whole set. It's not that you aren't enjoying yourself either, it's just... Sometimes you get flashes of floating in space long after the sun explodes, the cold sting... you don't want to think about any more of that. At some point they stop and we all go home before next week rolls around with brand new music. Sometimes the song is really long, really good throughout. What if it were always like that? Steady, even flow... the band always hitting their stride...