Picture the Universe as a book with a finite number of pages. Its accelerated expansion, driven by dark energy, a mysterious substance pushing space apart, acts like an invisible binding: distant pages are forever glued together, becoming inaccessible chapters. The accelerating expansion sets a cosmological horizon, analogous to the event horizon of a black hole — a region from which nothing can escape: everything beyond it is lost to us forever.
But the quantum nature of the 'text' introduces an even more insidious limitation: the very act of reading changes the letters. John von Neumann, within quantum mechanics, showed that an observer always captures only the system's response to measurement, not its original state. We see not the original, but the result of our interference.
No matter how elegant a cosmological model, verifying it in full is impossible. The total amount of information contained in the Universe (its entropy, a measure of uncertainty or hidden information) is large but finite, and an observer can access only a tiny fraction. Leonard Susskind and Eugene Wigner independently identified fundamental blind spots: any observer is fundamentally limited in what they can learn about a system of which they are a part. The surprising conclusion is that the more detailed our attempts to describe curved spacetime — the geometry where gravity manifests as a deformation of the cosmic fabric, the more the measurement process itself distorts the overall picture. There is no single plot that can be read to the end — only a multitude of fragments that never assemble into a whole.
If the Universe is a book with a finite number of pages, its total entropy (a measure of uncertainty) is like the maximum number of letters. That's why scientists speak of a 'digital' trace of reality.
The metaphor of a book with inaccessible chapters comes from Borges's story 'The Library of Babel'—there, characters search for an absolute book, doomed to eternal incompleteness.