Dan sat on the rough edge of the Parker building, feet dangling high above the evening traffic.
His life, he'd been thinking again, was a whole lot of nothing. Same wake-up, same bus ride, same stupid job. Repeat.
Even the stuff that was supposed to be big, the stuff that broke other people, just slid right off him. His parents dying? He'd stood there at the funeral, dry-eyed, feeling like he was watching a movie about someone else.
The car crash that had snapped his arm in two places? He hadn't screamed, hadn't even cried. The doctors had looked at him funny.
His heart, or whatever it was, had just packed up and left. Gone. That's probably why his friends didn't call anymore. Who'd want to hang out with a guy who felt like a blank wall?
He didn't blame them though.
He leaned back on his hands, the gritty concrete pressing into his palms. Below, the city lights were starting to blink on, tiny stars scattered across the dark ground. But he wasn't looking down. He was looking west.
The sun was sinking, a fiery orange ball melting into the hazy skyline. Pinks and purples bled into the blue above, soft and quiet. And right there, watching the colors change, something small flickered inside Dan's chest.
It wasn't much. Not fireworks, not a sudden burst of joy. Just a little warmth, like a forgotten ember glowing. Nostalgia, maybe. It reminded him of being a kid, lying in the grass in his backyard, watching these same colors paint the sky, back before everything felt so… empty.
This was it. The only part of his day, of his week, that wasn't gray. He stayed there, watching until the last sliver of orange disappeared and the sky turned a deep, bruised purple.
For a little while, at least, the dead thing inside him felt a tiny bit less dead.
The last bit of warmth faded with the light.
Dan sighed, a puff of air that didn't carry much feeling.
"Well, that's that." He pushed himself up, his joints stiff from sitting. "Tomorrow's gonna be just as thrilling, I'm sure." Another day of beeping scanners and dusty boxes.
He turned towards the rusty old fire escape ladder he'd used to get up here. It was probably older than he was. He grabbed the cold metal rungs, testing his weight. Seemed okay. He started down, one careful step at a time.
He was about halfway when he heard it – a sharp, groaning creak. Before he could even process the sound, the section of ladder he was holding onto ripped away from the brick wall with a sickening screech of metal.
Air rushed past his face. The city lights below spun wildly. There was no flash of his life, no sudden regret. Just a weird, detached thought: This is it.
Then, nothing.
He blinked.
One moment there was falling, the next, just… space. Not black, empty space, but a soft, endless expanse that shimmered with colors he couldn't quite name. It wasn't cold, wasn't hot. It just was.
And there was someone watching him.
She was tall, or at least she seemed tall, with hair the color of a summer sky just after dawn, spilling around her like a waterfall. Her eyes held a strange mix of knowing and… amusement? Yeah, definitely amusement.
She wore something that looked like it was woven from moonlight.
"Well, hello there," she said, her voice like wind chimes. It wasn't loud, but it filled the space around him.
"Took you long enough to wake up."
Dan just stared. This was new. Definitely not the alley behind the Parker building.
She smiled, a gentle, slightly teasing curve of her lips. "Welcome, Dan. You've made it to the Chamber of Reincarnation."
"Chamber of… what now?" He finally managed, his voice raspy. He tried to sit up, but there wasn't really an 'up' to sit on. He was just sort of… floating. It wasn't unpleasant, just weird.
The woman chuckled. "Reincarnation. You know, new life? Fresh start? Ring any bells?" She tilted her head, her bright hair shifting.
Dan frowned, or tried to. It was hard to make expressions when you weren't sure if you had a face anymore.
"But… I fell. Off a building." He remembered the screech of metal, the spinning lights. "I should be, well, dead."
"Oh, you are," she said, nodding cheerfully. "Very dead. Splat, in fact. Not pretty. But that's just the end of one chapter, isn't it?"
He processed that. Dead. It didn't hit him with any particular force. It was just a fact, like the sky being blue, or his old job being boring.
"So this is… what? Heaven? Hell?" He looked around the vast, colorful space again. It didn't look like any picture of heaven he'd ever seen.
"Neither, really," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "More like a… waiting room. A processing center, if you want to get technical. Before you get sent back out there."
"Sent back out where?"
"To live again, of course," the goddess said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That's what reincarnation means, sweetie."
"Live again?" He repeated, a hint of something that might have been weariness in his non-existent voice. "Why? One go-around was pretty much enough for me, thanks."
The goddess drifted closer, or maybe he drifted closer to her.. "That's not really how it works. Souls are… recyclable. Energy. You don't just get to quit." She paused. "Besides, your last run was a bit of a dud, wouldn't you say? So much potential, so little… spark."
"You noticed," he said, flatly. "So, who are you? The manager of cosmic recycling?"
She laughed, a bright, tinkling sound. "Something like that. I oversee transitions for this particular… sector. And for you, Dan, I have something a little different planned. Not back to your old world. No more stocking shelves and watching sunsets until you accidentally fall off a building."
"Thrilled," he muttered.
"I'm sending you to a new world," she continued, either not hearing or ignoring his sarcasm. "A place of magic, of strange creatures, of adventures, if you're so inclined."
"Magic and monsters," he echoed. "Sounds… loud. And probably involves a lot of running. Or getting eaten. More chances to feel nothing, I guess." He wasn't exactly jumping at the prospect. It sounded like a lot more effort than his old life.
The goddess sighed, a soft whisper of sound. "You're a tough case, aren't you? Well, regardless of your enthusiasm, it's time to get you set up." She waved a slender hand.
Suddenly, a shimmering panel of light appeared in front of him. Words and symbols glowed on its surface.
[Welcome, Soul! Please begin your New Life Configuration.]
"A system?" he asked, actually a little surprised. "Like in a video game?"
"It helps streamline the process," the goddess said. "Now, first things first: Race."
A list appeared below the welcome message.
[Select Race:]
[> Human]
[> Elf]
[> Dwarf]
[> Orc]
[> Goblin]
[> Beastkin (Various)]
[> Demonkin (Lesser)]
[> Angelkin (Lesser)]
[> Elemental (Minor)]
[> Slime]
[... and 27 more options]
He scrolled through. "Human… did that already. Elf? Probably have to be all graceful and poetic. Annoying. Dwarf? Beards and mining. Nah. Orc? Too much yelling." He kept going.
"Beastkin? Depends on the animal, but probably fleas. Demonkin, Angelkin… sounds like a lot of baggage, a lot of expectations. Elemental? What, like a talking rock?" He found himself actually engaging a little, if only to dismiss things.
Then his gaze landed on one of the last options visible.
[Slime].
He pressed on it, and a small description popped up next to it.
[Slime: A simple, adaptable lifeform. Possesses no complex emotions in its base state. Can absorb and analyze organic and inorganic matter. Potential for versatile evolution. Low initial threat, often overlooked.]
"Huh," he said, the sound barely there. No complex emotions. Overlooked. That… actually sounded familiar. Almost peaceful, in a weird way. Not having to pretend, not having anyone expect anything from him. Just… being. And absorbing things sounded vaguely less effort than his old job.
"Slime," he said, a little more firmly. "Let's see about that."