Note: Spoilers for the entire series, obviously.

“What do you say? Want to go around again?” … “Space: it seems to go on and on forever, but then you get to the end and a gorilla starts throwing barrels at you.” The former line comes from Futurama’s finale, the latter from the pilot — in that order for those who saw “Meanwhile” live on Comedy Central. When the Professor takes everyone back to the moment before he conceived of a time button that accidentally broke the universe, is he taking the characters back to the start along with the viewer? Is Futurama an infinite loop? (Or did I just waste the past three years of my life? No wait, don’t answer that, just smile and nod.)

To truly flesh this theory out, we need to be honest with ourselves from the start. Comedy Central, not the show’s creators, chose to air the pilot immediately following the finale. The writers themselves ended the series ambiguously in order to ensure a satisfying conclusion while leaving the door open for future episodes in case we do see our friends on some other channel in the future. Thus, authorial intent is not a matter of discussion here — likely Groening et. al. don’t even know if the show is a loop or not. At best, this is a carefully thought-out, logical conclusion based on what we see on screen. At worst, it’s an intriguing but misguided and otherwise pointless musing on time travel in an always-bouncing-off-the-walls series that didn’t always place a premium on continuity.

Nevertheless, I march onward. How time works in the Futurama universe forms the theory’s base. We know that time is cyclical at least in some sense; in “The Late Philip J. Fry,” we learn that the universe is perpetually repeating itself in sequences that begin with a Big Bang and end with Big Crunch. For simplicity’s sake, I call such a sequence a “period” (see Figure 1). Together, the periods form a timeline, a linear series of events, which, as the name suggests, occur in a specific order from start to finish.

We only see three periods in “The Late Philip J. Fry.,” but they’re each apparently carbon copies of each other unless a time traveler interferes (such as, say, the Professor shooting Eleanor Roosevelt), and there’s no reason to think that there’s a limit to how many periods a single timeline contains. So, let’s assume that a single timeline contains an infinite number of repeating periods that are identical unless acted upon by an outside force. Forward time travel, as exemplified in this episode is fairly straightforward — as time passes extremely quickly for the timeline at large, there can exist a pocket, such as the Professor’s machine, in which time stands essentially still.

More noteworthy for this fan theory is backwards time travel, which comes in two varieties. The first type is imaginary time travel, named due to its relation to the concept of imaginary time, not because it is somehow fantasy or less than legitimate. We witness imaginary time travel in “All the Presidents’ Heads” as akin to what we’re used to — somebody actually returns to the past with the potential to alter future events. On a similar note, in the finale, when time accidentally gets stuck, the Professor tunnels through perpendicular dimensions within the timeline to find where Fry and Leela are. In imaginary time travel like this, temporal movement is analogous to spatial movement; the Professor searching for Fry and Leela between yesterday and tomorrow is conceptually identical to searching between 1st Street and 2nd Street for a dropped credit card. The fact that the Professor can move laterally through time suggests the existence of an overarching master time which is “orthogonal” in nature. Conceptualized most famously by sci-fi legend Philip K. Dick, orthogonal time is static, predetermined, and self-contained. I hereby will refer to this temporal space, which contains all of time itself, a “time domain.”

In the time domain, time doesn’t function as we generally perceive it. When I say “the present” when talking about the time domain, it’s not related to what time it is in a single timeline, but the time domain. Think of the time you see on the clock — the year, hour, minute, etc. — as “nominal time.” The time in the master timeline is “real time,” and doesn’t come with the familiar labels that we see on a clock. It exists with a start and finish, although we don’t necessarily have to know where either lies.

The existence of the time domain implies the potential for the other form of time travel, which involves the creation of parallel timelines that run side-by-side in real time. In these cases, one is not literally traveling to the past like in imaginary time travel. As Carl Sagan explains (36:45-37:50), this variety of time travel invokes alternate timelines, which weigh heavily in Futurama. Best exemplified in “Bender’s Big Score,” what we think of as time travel actually makes a new timeline that begins at a certain point from the past and leads to different events than occurred in the original timeline (see Figure 2). For example, in “Jurassic Bark,” a pre-”Bender’s Big Score” episode, Fry is frozen and Seymour dies waiting for his owner’s return that never comes. This is the blueprint timeline. Fry later wakes up in 3000, the series goes on as we see, and then, at some point, he uses the time code to travel back to January 1st, 2000. He’s not literally going to the past, but instead creating a new timeline in the present moment in real time that restores the universe to the state it was in on January 1st, 2000 in the timeline. Hence, this day is the restoration point, and the new timeline begins from this point onward. In the blueprint timeline, the reunion between Fry and his dog never happened, but now, in the new one, Fry meets again with his faithful pup. Both realities are valid.

A new timeline spawning from a restoration point begins in the present in terms of real time, even if the restoration point is from the past in nominal terms. For example, in “Roswell That Ends Well,” the crew create a new timeline that begins, nominally, in the 20th century, one thousand-plus years before the 31st century will happen later in the linear timeline. But, this timeline is created in the present in real time. The original timeline, which is in the 31st century, and the other in the 20th, occur simultaneously according to real time. A good example of this phenomenon is when young Spock meets old Spock in the 2009 Star Trek reboot; Futurama’s time travel conceptualization in terms of creating a new, simultaneous timeline using a restoration point has nearly identical consequences.

The final key time-related concept deals with the fact that Futurama doesn’t stick to the same timeline from start to finish. Futurama begins in the “original timeline” with Fry on New Year’s Eve in 1999. In real terms, this timeline occurs first, before any others created in the show. It is unique in that regard. Throughout the series, multiple episodes create new timelines using a variety of restoration points, and we watch the series unfolds in those. These timelines lie on the same “timestring” as the original timeline, as they each can be traced back to that original blueprint. By the end, Fry remains on the same timestring as he started, despite having jumped timelines on multiple occasions. That also explains why he retains his memories and experiences through his time travel escapades despite jumping timelines.

So how is it possible for an infinite loop to take place in spite of time’s complex nature? Let’s start with what we know. In “The Why of Fry,” Fry getting frozen, our key event for this fan theory, is revealed as a nexus point that connects the past, pre-freezing, to the future, post-freezing. Fry is the single-most important person in the universe (though the Dave Mathews band doesn’t rock), so this is more than an ordinary moment in which a pizza delivery guy gets frozen for a millennium. All time converges to this point.

Additionally, in “Anthology of Interest I,” when Fry asks the what-if machine what would happen if he hadn’t been frozen, we see the results first-hand. As 1999 shifts into 2000, Fry avoids the freezer tube in this made-up scenario. A Hawking Hole opens up at this nexus point, connecting the present and future. Fry and Al Gore’s Vice Presidential Action Rangers are in 2000 while the Planet Express crew are in 3000, both looking at each other at the same time (in real time). In the what-if scenario, the moment when Fry bonks his head reveals that, running parallel to this timeline, nominally in 1999, exists a timeline nominally in the 31st century.

Assuming the scenario is correct for what would have happened had Fry not been frozen, I infer that in reality, in which Fry is frozen, one timeline is split into seemingly two that run parallel in the same manner. If the what-if scenario is correct in how it constructs time, in reality too we have the 20th and 30th centuries running at the same time in the same timeline. As Fry delivers pizzas on New Year’s Eve, the Professor is napping in his pajamas on New Year’s Eve, only on a different New Year’s Eve. As I’ve mentioned, all time converges to when Fry is frozen. In essence, in this moment, 1000 years pass nominally in an infinitesimally small amount of real time, virtually transporting Fry to the future at once. 1,000 years exist as a “point” in real time. As the nexus point, this blip in time in which Fry is frozen connects the past to the future, merging the split timeline as one. Despite the appearance, it is still one timeline throughout; a bit mind-boggling, but it does suggest that the 20th and 30th centuries occur simultaneously before the nexus point (see Figure 3). When Fry is frozen, midnight on January 1st, 2000 is equal to the moment he wakes up on December 31st, 2999, and both Fry in the past and the Professor and everyone in the future are on the same timeline, only split apart.

That means that, if the Professor conceived of the time button before Fry awakes on December 31st, 2999, the conception will have taken place in real terms at the same time as Fry exists in the original timeline. By taking us back to the moment just before conception, he creates a new timeline that uses a restoration point the original timeline from before Fry came to the future. He will then conceive of the time button in the instant immediately following restoration, and the series loops forever (see Figure 4).

The Professor can put the loop into motion via two methods — imaginary time travel or new timeline generation. The time button utilizes both. When working correctly, it takes a copy of the universe ten seconds ago, and then makes a new timeline from that restoration point onward. That’s why, if somebody comes out of the time shelter and then the button is pressed too quickly, that person disappears–they weren’t in the universe according to the button, so they don’t appear in the new timeline. Yet, when the time button breaks, real time, not nominal time, halts. More than just the clocks are frozen — everyone and everything besides Fry and Leela stands completely still. So, a source of great debate (or perhaps not?) is whether or not the Professor will use imaginary time travel or create a new timeline at the end of the finale.

If the Professor uses imaginary time travel to move through real time (confusing, I know), this theory works as long as the conception is pre-nexus point. That’s simple. More difficult to prove is the case in which the Professor needs to create a new timeline. Since the blueprint timeline is the current timeline, which is different from the original timeline, it appears impossible. Yet, it actually is theoretically possible to pick a restoration point from a different timeline than the one somebody currently resides on.

The Professor claims that the button takes ten seconds to recharge, thus preventing any user from “going back” more than ten seconds. This statement indicates that the restriction on overusing the button derives from a conscious choice by the inventor, not scientific law. Assume there is no such ten-second limit: if pressing the button uses a moment ten seconds ago as a restoration point, creating a new timeline, using it three seconds into the new timeline would, theoretically, be using a restoration point from a different timeline. The blueprint timeline, Timeline 1, from which we take the restoration point, is not the same timeline as Timeline 2, in which I press the button (see Figure 5). In Timeline 1, I press the button, creating Timeline 2, which uses a moment ten seconds ago in Timeline 1 as the restoration point. Then, three seconds later, I use the button again while in Timeline 2, creating Timeline 3, which uses a moment from seven real seconds ago in Timeline 1 as the restoration point (after all, 3 seconds into Timeline 2’s existence, there isn’t a moment 10 seconds ago to go back to). On the micro scale here, you can see easily how one can create a new timeline that restores a point from a different timeline on the same timestring.

Extrapolating the ten-second example to a larger scale, since the timeline in “Meanwhile” can be traced back to the timeline in “Space Pilot 3000” via the same timestring, the Professor can theoretically use a moment from the pilot as the restoration point, despite it not lying on the same timeline, creating a new timeline in which Fry is in exactly the same state he was in the original timeline. Thus, it can restore Fry, with his original grandfather, on the night of December 31st, 1999, kicking off the infinite loop. In real terms, this original timeline takes place uniquely in the timestring–there are no alternate timelines that it runs parallel with before Fry is frozen (remember, the 30th century time running parallel is not another timeline, but a component of this one). Hence, there is no confusion–if the restoration point comes before the freezing event, there will be an infinite loop.

Of course, the loop still relies on the fact that the Professor conceived of the time button before Fry came to the future. So, when did he think of it? In “The Late Philip J. Fry,” the Professor invents a forward-only time machine, implying that he has already considered the implications of backwards “time travel,” the one that creates new paradox-correcting timelines, by that point. In Bender’s Big Score, the Professor is already aware of the paradox-correcting nature of the universe, so we know that by that time he already is well-versed in backwards time travel as well. Additionally, in “Roswell that Ends Well,” the Professor displays an awareness for how Fry’s actions will affect the nature of the timestring they’re currently on, and how he is at risk of undoing his own existence in the current timeline.

Finally, if we may revisit Anthology of Interest I, the Professor displays an understanding for how time itself works (as I have conceptualized). He notes how ridiculous the scenario is not because of its presentation of time, but because of how preposterous it is that Stephen Hawking is in a pizzeria (and yes, the writers put this line in there as a throwaway joke; I’m well-aware that I’m reading too much into this). Had there been an issue with how the scenario presents time itself, surely the Professor would have made a point of that, not of a scientist’s choice of restaurant. Thus, at every turn of the series, the Professor presents a deep knowledge of how time functions; it’s easy to forget, but the series we see represents only a tiny sliver of the Professor’s life. I’d wager that, given his age and his time spent studying time specifically, the idea for the time button came up long before Fry came to the future. If this moment in which the initial idea springs is indeed the moment of conception, the infinite loop exists.

Hence, in the finale, the Professor creates a new timeline that restores the universe back the exact state it was in before Fry was frozen in the pilot. Regardless of how long before the nexus point this restoration point happens, the series will eventually reach the New Year’s Eve 1999 and see Fry, exactly as he was in the original timeline, delivering pizza to I.C. Weiner. He will become frozen, and the series will travel along an identical timestring to the one it has already traveled, eventually restarting again. A cycle will exist within the time domain that repeats itself over and over and over, from now until the end of the time.

Now, I could be wrong. I make no absolute claims of correctness. The writers purposefully left the point of “conception” vague, and, as you can see, this theory relies on quite a few key assumptions–the most important being the nature of this nexus point. I make quite a few logical leaps to suggest that Fry being frozen connects the past to the future; and this logic is based fundamentally upon the fact that that the what-if machine presents an accurate representation of time. Otherwise, the split-timeline component of the theory falls apart. If you recall, the scenario of Fry being frozen is itself contained within a what-if scenario in which the Professor invents the finglonger. For this scenario within a scenario to be accurate, it means the Professor’s machine must have been extremely well put-together. Given his awareness of the nature of time throughout the series, and the functionality of his inventions despite his own aloofness, it’s hard to prove that the invention is incorrect. No, Al Gore doesn’t have a task force with Gary Gygax and Stephen Hawking, but the representation of timelines is based on the Professor’s own knowledge. But criticisms that the invention could be wrong are definitely valid.

The other key issue comes with the claim that the conception of the time button takes place before the nexus point. I would be a fool to negate the possibility that the Professor didn’t think of it until right before the finale, or at any other point after the nexus point. Throughout the series, he is still constantly tinkering and inventing; perhaps he truly never thought of the time button as a concept until just recently. I don’t believe it’s likely that the thought never pops up in his head once until this late in life, but it’s well within the realm of possibility. Furthermore, the Professor is borderline senile at times; perhaps after tunneling through time trying to find Fry and Leela in the finale, his grasp of the human language isn’t what it once was. Maybe he uses the word “conceived” without truly meaning it; he could have wanted to say “invented” or even “tested,” or some other word that relates to a different step in the invention process. Again, it can’t be ruled out.

Most importantly, I’m no physicist. I don’t know any more about time and time travel than I’ve picked up reading and watching science fiction (which is to say, I know very little about either concept). I’m a fan who has watched too much Futurama, and I don’t pretend to be anything more. As I’ve mentioned, I’m cognizant of the fact that I’m reading into clues the exist only incidentally. I know the writers didn’t plan for an infinite loop; they even said in the post-finale show on Comedy Central that they didn’t even know the plot for the finale until they were forced to write it. This write-up is instead the result of nearly three years of pondering and mental gear-turning since I watched the finale and pilot alone in my dorm room on September 4th, 2013. In the end, maybe Futurama is an infinite loop, but perhaps (or probably) it isn’t. Regardless: I choose to believe what I was programmed to believe.