Every ending is arbitrary, because the end is where you write The end. A period, a dot of punctuation, a point of stasis. A pinprick in the paper: you could put your eye to it and see through, to the other side, to the beginning of something else. Or, as Tony says to her students, Time is not a solid, like wood, but a fluid, like water or the wind. It doesn't come neatly cut into even-sized length, into decades and centuries. Nevertheless, for our purposes we have to pretend it does. The end of any history is a lie in which we all agree to conspire.
The concept of an ending being arbitrary highlights the subjective nature of conclusion, suggesting that what we perceive as an end is merely a point where we decide to stop. The phrase "The end" serves as a simple marker, yet it hides the continuous flow of time and experiences that precede it. Atwood implies that this period signifies a gateway to new beginnings, emphasizing the fluidity of time, which cannot be confined to neatly defined segments like decades or centuries.
Atwood's character, Tony, further illustrates that our perception of time is often distorted, as we tend to categorize it for convenience. In acknowledging that endings can be fabricated, she invites readers to reflect on the shared constructs of history and the collective agreement to define it in specific terms. Ultimately, the notion that the end is a lie encourages us to question the boundaries we impose on our understanding of time and life’s narratives.
