Chapter 1
He floated like some piece of chunk nothing more than flesh and bones awaiting decay in the vast vacuum.
He badly craved a rescuing hand. One that could tow him back to a world filled with life. A place he could call home. Where he could be back with his family.His father was always right. He shouldn't have accepted the job. But unfortunately his crave for for fame and honor had taken root in his thick skull
Maybe it wasn't right for him to ignore his father's decision, yet his ambitions and dreams had to intervene. How could they not? Ever since he was a kid it had always been his dream to explore what laid up in the heavens, to see the sun in its glory and all.He deserved it. The fact that he let his ambitions get in the way of his father's advice was a testament. Who didn't deserved it however was his father. No parent should Bury their sons it was the other way round. It was the natural order of life.
Soon he was already consumed by the vaccum. His body was covered in ice freezing it with absolute temperature, the oxygen deprivation took away his last thoughts. Perhaps his body could be rescued so he could have a good burial
Light.
It emerged like a small ball from the endless void and nearing his body at an incredible speed. As it neared he felt as though his body was mauled by the most binding light yet he couldn't afford the luxury of taking cover.Anyways it didn't matter. His body was already an empty fuel not a single joint could he move as the luminous light reached out for him and the void leaving beneath a frigid dawn.
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The Central Medical Facility was nothing short of a marvel—a cathedral dedicated not to faith, but to the relentless pursuit of scientific perfection. As Alex's eyes traced the contours of the room, he noticed how the walls themselves seemed alive, composed of a shimmering nanomaterial that shifted subtly in hue and transparency. During the day, they glowed with a gentle pearlescent sheen, filtering the harshness of artificial light into a soothing cascade of pastel blues and greens. As evening approached, the surfaces darkened to a deep, calming indigo, mimicking the natural rhythms of a sunset to ease the mind into rest.
Every inch of the facility was designed with precision and care. Embedded within the walls were microscopic sensors, silently monitoring the air quality, temperature, and even the emotional state of patients through subtle biometric cues. The air itself was a carefully engineered blend, infused with trace amounts of calming pheromones and oxygen enriched to optimal levels, carrying a faint but pleasant scent reminiscent of blooming jasmine and fresh rain.
Robotic nurses glided effortlessly along magnetic tracks embedded in the floor, their movements fluid and almost humanlike. Their sleek, chrome exteriors reflected the ambient light, while delicate appendages extended with surgical precision to administer medication or adjust monitoring devices. Above Alex's bed, a holographic interface floated in mid-air, projecting streams of data in vibrant colors—heart rate, neural activity, cellular regeneration—all updated in real time with a clarity that was almost hypnotic.
The soft hum of the machines was a constant presence, a mechanical heartbeat that underscored the sterile tranquility of the room. It was a symphony of technology and biology, a seamless fusion where the boundaries between man and machine blurred into irrelevance. Here, in this sanctuary of healing, the future was not just imagined—it was alive, breathing, and waiting to embrace those who dared to seek it.
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Alex's first conscious thought was, "Why does my head feel like it's been hit by a neutron star?" The second was, "Why am I lying on what feels like a bed made of cold, slightly judgmental metal?" And the third was, "Why is there a soft robotic voice telling me to remain calm, when I'm pretty sure I just died?"
Blinking against the sterile, bluish light above him, Alex tried to sit up but was gently restrained by what looked like a transparent force field. "Please remain still," the voice intoned again, this time with a hint of impatience. "Your vitals are stabilizing."
"Vitals? Stabilizing? What is this, a spaceship or a hospital?" Alex muttered, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar. He tried to remember what had happened. The last thing he recalled was the explosion—something about a malfunctioning thruster, a blaring alarm, and then... darkness.
Now, here he was, in a room that looked like the lovechild of a high-tech laboratory and a luxury spa. The walls shimmered with a subtle iridescence, shifting colors like a soap bubble caught in a sunbeam. Holographic panels floated lazily in the air, displaying streams of data in fonts that looked like they were designed by someone who hated straight lines.
Alex's eyes darted around, taking in the details. The bed he was on was embedded with tiny sensors that pulsed softly, monitoring his every breath and heartbeat. Above him, a translucent dome projected a calming starfield, complete with shooting comets and the occasional blinking satellite. "Okay," Alex thought, "this is either a very elaborate dream or I'm in some sci-fi movie."
A soft chime announced the arrival of a figure at the door. A woman in a sleek white coat entered, her eyes bright and curious. "Ah, you're awake," she said with a smile that was both professional and oddly reassuring. "Welcome to New Elysium Medical Center."New Elysium?" Alex echoed, trying to sit up again, only to be gently pushed back by the invisible barrier. "Where exactly is this? Because last I checked, I was hurtling through space in a tin can that was about to explode."
The woman chuckled. "You're not in Kansas anymore, Alex. Or Earth, for that matter. You're in the capital city of the United Federation of Planets. Quite a mouthful, I know."
Alex blinked. "Right. So, I died. And now I'm... what? A guest in your futuristic hospital?"
"In a manner of speaking," she replied, pulling up a holographic display that showed a 3D model of a human body with glowing circuits running beneath the skin. "Your consciousness was transferred to a genetically enhanced host body. You're alive, but not as you once were."
Alex stared at the model, then at his own hands. They looked normal enough, except for the faint bioluminescent veins that pulsed with a soft blue light beneath his skin. "So, I'm basically a cyborg?"
"More or less," she said. "But with all your memories intact. That's what makes your case so unique."
Alex swallowed hard. "All my memories? Even the embarrassing ones?"
The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Especially the embarrassing ones."
Alex groaned. "Great. Just what I needed."
As the doctor explained his condition, Alex's eyes wandered around the room again. The technology was staggering. The walls weren't just walls—they were alive, made of smart materials that adjusted their opacity and color to suit the patient's mood and health. Right now, they glowed a soothing lavender, but Alex imagined they could turn into anything from a sunny beach to a thunderstorm if he asked nicely.
Robotic assistants zipped silently along magnetic tracks embedded in the floor, their sleek chrome bodies gleaming under the ambient lighting. One paused near Alex's bed, extending a delicate arm that offered a cup of water. Alex blinked in surprise and took it, marveling at the warmth of the liquid and the precision of the robot's movements.
"Don't worry," the doctor said, noticing his fascination. "They're programmed to be helpful, not creepy."
Alex wasn't so sure. "Helpful, sure. But I'm waiting for the one that tries to steal my identity or sell me to an intergalactic reality show."
The doctor laughed. "You have a sense of humor. That will serve you well."
Alex's mind drifted back to his previous life. He remembered the cramped quarters of the exploration ship, the endless void of space outside the viewport, and the camaraderie of his crewmates. He remembered the accident—the explosion, the searing pain, the cold embrace of oblivion.
And now, here he was, in a body that wasn't quite his own, in a world that was both dazzling and disorienting. The memories were a double-edged sword. They gave him a sense of continuity, but also a profound loneliness. No one here knew who he really was. No one here knew the man he had been.
He decided then and there to keep his past life a secret. No one needed to know that he was a space explorer who had died spectacularly and been reborn in a sci-fi hospital. That kind of story sounded like the plot of a bad novel.
The doctor gestured toward the window. "That's New Elysium, the city that never sleeps. Neon lights, flying cars, and more technology than you can shake a plasma rifle at."
Alex peered out. The city was a riot of color and motion. Skyscrapers pierced the clouds, their surfaces covered in animated advertisements and digital graffiti. Hovercars zipped through the air in organized chaos, their engines humming a futuristic symphony.
"Looks like a video game," Alex muttered.
"Better," the doctor said. "It's real."
Alex sighed. He had a choice. He could embrace this new life, learn its rules, and maybe even thrive. Or he could cling to his past, a ghost in a machine, forever out of place.
He glanced down at his glowing veins and the sleek hospital gown that felt more like a high-tech armor. "Alright," he said to himself, "time to play it cool. No one needs to know I'm a walking sci-fi cliché."
As the stars twinkled in the artificial sky above his bed, Alex closed his eyes and smiled. He was alive. He was different. And he was ready to face whatever this strange new world had in store for him.
update your status regularly and avoid unauthorized time travel."
Alex snorted. "Unauthorized time travel? What's next, a ban on interdimensional karaoke?"
The hospital corridors stretched before him, gleaming and spotless, the floor polished to a mirror shine that reflected his every step. The walls, now bathed in a warm golden hue from the setting sun filtering through the panoramic windows, seemed to cheer him on silently. He imagined them whispering, "You made it, champ. Go conquer the galaxy."
As he passed the robotic nurses and hovering drones, Alex gave a mock salute. "Thanks for the care, folks. Don't miss me too much."
A small group of patients in the waiting area turned to watch him, their eyes wide with a mix of envy and hope. Alex felt like a celebrity, or maybe a contestant on some bizarre reality show called "Reincarnated and Released."