Chapter 2: Deja Vu

It was almost cliché.

No, it was cliché.

Apparently my lifelong atheism was misplaced as I was certainly in some form of afterlife. I expected Morgan Freeman to walk into the room at any moment with a disappointed shake of his head. I was reclining on some sort of bench in the middle of a completely white, sterile room. The place was uniformly lit from no apparent source so I couldn’t make out how large it was. I tried to get up, but realized quickly that my body wouldn’t move. My head and neck were free, but I was stuck to the bench.

Then he walked into the room–straight through the wall–and I had no response other than “no fucking way.”

I say he but he had no apparent gender. It was as if you had taken all of humanity and put it in a blender. The skin color could have been genetic, or just a tan. The eyes looked Korean at one moment, and then European the next. Flat chested, but without broad shoulders or muscles. It’s as if a seven-year-old polyethnic was scaled up.

He looked slightly surprised at my outburst, then responded with an air of curiosity, “my presence does not surprise you?”

“I’m going to take a wild swing here: you can grant me a second life, good health, and perfect physical condition, but I have to be your guinea pig and spend it on some backwards, primitive, ancient copy of Earth carrying only what I can fit in a wagon?”

He took a second to process what I had said. “I assume ‘guinea pig’ is an idiom in this language, because you certainly will remain human. And, yes, we can achieve all of what you said. But you don’t get a wagon. Is not life enough of a gift?”

“Well, fuck” I said once again in too few minutes. “So that old bastard was right, but it’s not ‘redneck conquers the world’ it’s ‘modern bastard learns all about taking a dump in the woods’ isn’t it?

“Why don’t you tell me what I’m doing here, just so we’re all on the same page.”

His smile was creepy for no apparent reason. “You have died on your home planet. For reasons that will not be explained, you have been chosen to take part in one of our programs. Your soul, as you would call it, was extracted and now lives in this new body we have prepared. It is a perfect replica of the one you had on Earth, minus a few genetic imperfections and without the years of wear or abuse. The purpose of the program is not relevant to your situation, other than it will provide you will some assistance in your new life. However, you can consider it a form of reality television for our species.

“Should you chose to accept our offer, we will provide you with some basic supplies equivalent to what your average camper would carry at the time of your death. You will be transported to a planet much like your Earth, but where the humanoid population exists in one of three developmental stages chosen for their entertainment value. You may choose between a paleolithic era, feudal agrarian society, or an early iron age similar to your continent’s ‘pioneer’ era. You will start your ‘second life’ in a relatively safe area away from people and predators with ample shelter and sustenance nearby. How you proceed from there is entirely up to you.

“Should you decline the offer, you will simply cease to exist exactly as if you had died in the car accident.”

I didn’t expect such a clear and to-the-point exposition from him, and it took a few minutes to process what he had said. “What type of assistance is it that you referred to?”

“Well, you are certainly not our first candidate.” To which I nodded. “In the past, we have suffered–a ratings drop you would call it–when a favorite candidate stumbled into danger or a lethal situation early or before they were ready. To combat this, we will implant a transmitter in your skull that allows us to monitor all of your senses and thoughts and provide you with information that may help you if we so desire.”

“So you’re going to be watching me all the time and might–if it pleases you–keep me from dying?” I said sarcastically.

“We would be watching you regardless, using your equivalent of cameras. The implant allows us to respond to non-obvious dangers such as illness, fears, or subconscious thoughts. The assistance will be for entertainment purposes, not solely to prevent danger, but also possibly to direct you to more engaging surroundings.”

I started to ask him any one of the numerous questions that popped into my head, but stopped as I realized I had already made my decision. “Well, I’m not crazy about being your reality star, but you’re right, the gift of another life is more than enough.”

“Very well. And which society would you like to visit?”

“Can I wait until I see my gear?” I asked, in quite possibly my brightest moment of the entire ordeal.”

With a small smile that made me think I had done something right he replied, “absolutely. When I leave this room, you will be released and have one day of Earth time to get acquainted with your new body. Shortly, a backpack with your allowed equipment will appear, I suggest you go through it thoroughly and understand what you will have available.

“I am required to tell you that for those hours until you leave, we will listen to any requests you or questions you may have. However, you already have all the necessary information and requests are rarely granted–at least I have never seen one granted. “Just speak and I or one of my representatives will hear you. The room is also psychoso ... it will respond to your intentions, so if you want a bed, food, or other equipment, just ask for it.” And with that, he turned around and walked back through the wall.

Twenty-four hours doesn’t seem long at all until you have to spend it in a featureless white room. I started to think I left my sanity in my old body until I thought to ask for a countdown clock. I’ve never been more disappointed in myself than when the countdown appeared at 22:34–it had only taken me 86 minutes to reach the edge of bonkerstown.

At least the body was enjoyable. I imagine this is what it felt like to be seven, if I could remember that far back, and if a seven-year-old had the muscle memory of an adult. I spent the first few minutes capering around the room like a schoolchild until I hurt myself doing some aborted form of parkour off the wall. At least I would have hurt myself before the accident; landing that hard on my shoulder would have put me on painkillers and light duty for a few days at least. This new body, it bounced right back after a few massages and windmills, that was something at least.