There should be a transition, a shift from one body to a new body that is welcomed with simple sensations. Such as: the first breath, muscle vibration, heartbeat, or at least the faint sound of the outside world. It doesn't have to be reincarnation or possession, even waking up in the morning is preceded by a breath.
But all I encountered was emptiness. There was no sound, no light, no cold or heat; I didn't even know whether this body was lying down or standing up. I tried to respond, shouting, turning my head, or simply raising a finger, and so on, and so on, and so on... All in vain. There was no movement, no reaction. I was like a disembodied mind, just a lump of consciousness lost in a bottomless dark space.
Time rolled on....
Gradually, new pieces began to emerge... Liam, a child, young, likely from a lower caste. His background is like being written on a half-burnt piece of paper: shabby, insignificant, and no part of his life seems valuable.
Other than accepting Liam's truncated memory, another thing I could do to keep my sanity from the flow of time was to browse through foreign memories. A collection of fragments that I had never done as a lawyer on earth; where each of them had contrasting and opposing lives.
After all this time....
But that's not what bothered me the most, what hit me was the realization that I was trapped; not metaphorically, but literally. I was trapped in flesh that didn't answer, didn't welcome, didn't even realize my presence. I was fully conscious, but had no way to express myself; there was no exit, not the slightest opening to make a sound, and I couldn't move my eyes or hear anything from outside... I couldn't even be sure if this body was still alive.
That's how time passes....
This is worse than a coma. Coma people are unconscious, it's like they're in a long sleep. But me? I'm awake, I'm very conscious. Every second felt like drops of water hitting a rock constantly chiseling away at the limits of my sanity, without any sensory input I couldn't tell the difference between day and night, there was no rhythm of time to parameterize, no clue as to whether a minute had passed or a thousand years had passed.
Time moved on again....
There was only me fully awake, but paralyzed, trapped in a space that I couldn't even call "dark" because I couldn't see. It's a state of no space and no time with the only thing pulsing is my own mind; which runs endlessly, without direction, without end. I knew this was the most extreme form of isolation a living being could experience. Losing the outside world, losing one's own body, losing the context of reality, and slowly starting to lose one's identity.
Time Continues to Follow....
Shortly After That....
The Right Moment Arrived....
Like a baby slowly developing consciousness, I began to feel the changes. Pieces of memories from Liam began to assemble themselves slowly; not like someone reading a book of his past, but more like a stranger peering through a cracked wall. It was hazy, incomplete, and often made no sense.
I couldn't run or work yet, speech in my condition was abstract. Even so, with a few tries (tens and hundreds) I could "move". It wasn't like I could control any of my body parts normally, even for something as trivial as lifting a finger was still impossible. It was small stuff, something that others would consider useless; even so, to me it was a potentially valuable resource.
I discovered the fact that with enough concentration, I could trigger changes in blood flow within a very small area. That is, manipulate a few drops of blood in capillaries, the smallest blood vessels in humans; micro passageways that carry oxygen and nutrients. The result is not significant, but it is enough to cause micro changes. Such as subtle redness and pallor in certain areas of the skin; then faint pain, to tingling, or even itching.
In addition, I also noticed a faint control of the pores and sweat glands, their usual functions, just maintaining body temperature and removing excess fluid and moisturizing the skin. The result doesn't leave the body drenched; but it can create the impression of being damp, sticky, or even the opposite. With a little tweaking at the right moment, I could monopolize and control the situation. For example... I could limit, or completely stop cold sweating when Liam was panicking; it was trivial, but to a meticulous person, a drop of sweat was more than enough to peek into a person's psychological situation.
This was the biggest and most influential discovery, at least as far as my little experiment went. Reflexes. Although not explosive conscious movements, but automatic and minor; like blinking, sneezing, knee reflexes. Not direct control, but more like whispering encouragement to the reflex system; in other words, it doesn't always work. Maybe I could use it to form a cryptic signal like Morse code, which was the first thing I learned about this reflex.
I started to receive bits and pieces of data—no, not memory information like before; but raw data absorbed by the senses. Unlike opening my eyes or hearing a voice in the general sense, however, I could not direct my focus or control the direction of my gaze. I did not choose what I received, I could only receive, and every data from the various senses I received for 24 hours per day.
Sight was the first and most chaotic. It wasn't that the quality of vision was bad, it was that the way this body used it wasn't in line with my wishes; I couldn't direct my gaze, couldn't focus my attention, and couldn't close my eyes when I wanted to. Colors, light, shadows, moving objects, and everything; it all came out of nowhere, like a screen that turned on and off without a command. There was no control, but there was a flow, everything came in uncontrollably. There was no detail that I missed: I memorized every piece of clothing, the various buildings, the surrounding trees, even the tiny ants in the cracks in the ground.
Then came hearing, which was active more often than sight. Ears unlike eyes cannot be controlled as easily as opening or closing, they are always sending vibrational data. So whenever there was a sound: people talking, footsteps, wind noise, doors opening, trees falling, even just a sigh of breath I could hear it well; even if Liam was fast asleep in the middle of the night. Sometimes the sounds came without context because I couldn't see the source, but that didn't stop me from analyzing; the data would be sent no matter how hard I tried to control it. I started to recognize the tone of speech, mapping out who was around this body just from their intonation; I measured their distance based on the echo and volume, guessing the situation behind the head where the blind spot was; I learned the rhythm of activity just from the sound, no matter if it was artificial or natural.
Smell started to function although it wasn't as difficult as sight or hearing, it only felt strong when there was a noticeable odor, then all I needed to do was focus on the other senses. The smell of wet soil, the smell of body sweat, the smell of cooking, even the smell of blood that might come from a wound or infection. Smell is not just sensory information; it stores atmosphere, emotion, time, and even the state of the body. I can tell when this body is hungry from the sour smell of digestion, and I know when a stranger is around just from the distinct body odor. It may sound exaggerated, but in a state where I'm no better than a newborn baby, smells can tell me more than words.
The tongue was also slowly sending signals. Salty, bitter, sweet, sour; it all came from the food that came in without me being able to ask for it. But even though I couldn't choose what to eat, I could remember everything; a faint metallic taste could mean a wound in the mouth, bitterness on the tongue might be from medicine. It all goes into my memory bank, analyzed and mapped, stored neatly in my mind.
Then there's touch, a neural sensor that can't be controlled. It's very limited at first, but slowly it starts to feel more consistent; I can't move my hand to touch something, but I can feel if something touches me. The touch of fabric on skin, the pressure of a straw mattress on my back, a gust of air on my face, the heat from the morning sun, an itch that appeared and disappeared on its own; even pain was no exception. All of these are data streams, irregular, uncontrolled, but usable. I began to be able to estimate body position from what felt pressing, or wind direction from the cooler side of my face. This wasn't control, it was interpretation. But to my mind it was enough to form maps, to structure, to understand space.
In addition to the five primary senses, there is another one that is more abstract yet ever-present: proprioception; the body's ability to recognize the position and orientation of limbs. Although I didn't yet have motor control, I received the vague sensation that this hand was being bent, or that the head was pointing to the left, or that the leg felt pulled down.
Even in the past, I had never called myself a genius, the word felt strange when directed at me; genius was a designation that was too lofty, too large, and often more flashy than useful. People like to label themselves with something special, but I just need to function... That's all. I read something once and don't forget it. Maybe that sounds incredible to other people, but to me it's just the way my mind works. I don't try to memorize; I just understand, and once I understand something, it stays. It doesn't disappear, it doesn't blur, it doesn't change shape. I can read a complicated book in one sitting, and years later, I can still remember the position of the words on the page; even if the page is torn or covered in stains.
It's not that I can understand everything instantly, or that my brain works like a computer; I still need time to digest complex things. I can still get tired, lose focus, or not understand if explanations are too vague. But the main difference is... Once I understand, it never goes away. One small understanding can be the root of another larger understanding, and that's how I build my way of thinking. I don't store data crudely like filling a closet with random documents; I organize it like a structure, like a map that I can look at from anywhere, at any time, without having to flip through pages.
I lost my body, lost the freedom to move even just a breath in control. My body was destroyed, but the ability to catch patterns, parse meaning, remember without losing context was still firmly planted. In the current condition, that ability is the only foundation I can use to survive; I can go crazy being given that much data and information without consistency. Once something was recorded, it was mine; every sound, image, smell, taste, or tactile sensation that had entered, I stored it like a puzzle piece. Slowly but surely, I put it together in silence.