Prologue

  “Life and death are one thread, the same line viewed from different sides.” - Lao Tzu.

  Music. The dark and empty space was filled with music. Unfamiliar notes and chords, a song in a language foreign to Earth, interrupted the final dream of a lost soul. It was a pleasant song, albeit somewhat discordant. Musical structure eluded definition; instead, what manifested resembled half a dozen melodies colliding, the instrumentation and humming vocals interacting, ricocheting into divergent musical compositions at each point of contact.

  The sound escalated, rising and falling as songs do, until finally it was overwhelming. A mild headache flared in the skull of a figure lying in a void of infinite white. He was a larger man, with tousled brown hair and glasses resting on his nose. He was tall, though one couldn’t tell without a frame of reference. Surrounded as he was by infinite white, the man’s body appeared tiny, isolated, as he roused and blinked away a tiredness that did not truly exist.

  He was uncovered, nude, and his body bared to the world. Well, it would be if there were a world to bare it to. He blinked frantically, confusion seeming to strangle him as he tried to form words. His mouth opened, and air flowed through his throat, but no sound emerged. He took quick, hurried breaths as he tried to look around, seeing only the endless alabaster.

  What’s going on? Where am I? Why can’t I talk? Why the hell am I naked? The man thought to himself.

  The music continued around him. It felt like it was digging into his skull, into his bones, weaving through his flesh. He tried to pinch himself to wake himself up. Surely this had to be a nightmare; clearly it wasn’t natural. He felt his throat closing up as he wriggled and felt a touch of pain, but stayed asleep, stuck in the hallucination.

  As he moved, his body felt strange. Gravity appeared to be lacking here. It reminded him of the time he visited a space museum and got to ride one of those zero-gravity machines. He felt weightless, which was impressive considering he wasn’t the lightest nor smallest human.

  Akin to floating atop water, the man felt weightless, yet the experience was different in a way that was incomprehensible. It was more. More noticeable. He remained afloat without effort. Didn’t have to wriggle his legs or lie back in a specific way. There was no pressure trying to force him to sink. There was nothing.

  In the distance, or perhaps it was close, a hole appeared in the infinite white. A swirling mass of gold and purple cut through the man's current reality, causing him to gasp, eyes widening as he jolted. What is that? Why am I dreaming of Dr. Strange? What is going on? He contemplated, forcing himself to sit up and hug his knees, presuming an "up" existed here.

  Calm down. Calm down, Isaac. It’s just a bad dream. It’s not real. You’ve had a million of these, even if this one’s weird. He tried to reassure himself as he watched a strange, slender, and tall figure step out from the purple and gold sparking portal. Wh... what the actual fuck is that? Why is it... Why does it look like...?

  “He. Not it. Why does he look like that? And sorry to disappoint you, Isaac Duran, but you are not dreaming.” The figure smiled, a deep, unsettling smile. It - no, he- stepped forward in the white and walked toward the now trembling naked man.

  As it came nearer, Isaac saw something out of a nightmare. The figure's smile stretched past its cheeks, tearing up and up and splitting its face in two. His lips seemed to cut past his eyes, and his teeth, normal and human, sharpened and lengthened. It appeared that the smile would cleave the creature's head in two, yet it retracted, changing from a horrible incarnation. Formerly, a plain, masculine countenance was present; now, existed a feminine visage. Rosy red lips twisted into a sadistic smile, eyes glowing with malice, shifted color from black to completely white.

  “Wh-what are you?” The man attempted to speak, but found himself incapable.

  “What am I?” the nightmare responded despondently. The figure’s voice was grating. Not in the way that gears chewing up metal, or nails on a chalkboard might be grating. No, it grated in an entirely novel manner. His voice, like his face, was changing slowly but noticeably. A single person conveyed themself as a crowd, whispering in various tones, each one attempting speech, while being unwilling to wait for their own turn. A different voice enunciated every other word, the shift was both seamless and erratic.

  “Hmm. I don’t know that it matters what I am. But I enjoy recognition. I am a god. I go by many names, and also no name.” The god, if it were true that he was in fact one and not a demon, paced before the cowering man. “You may call me... Hmm... What should you call me? Janus? I suppose that’s the closest to being accurate. Call me Janus, after your Roman god of change.

  “Now, allow me to explain the situation you find yourself in, before you ask any of those burning questions you mortals always tend to have.” He said ‘mortals’ with a sneer, as though it were a derogatory word.

  The man watched on, sitting with his knees tucked under his chin. It wasn’t particularly comfortable to sit in what was effectively a ball, but it at least hid some of his more private bits and covered his decently large belly. He took a shaky breath, trying not to hyperventilate. His fingers idly tried again to pinch him, to wake him up, hoping beyond hope's grasp that the ‘god,’ rather the demon before him, was lying. That this was actually just a dream.

  “Good. And I told you I’m a god. Besides, demons can become gods, too. Don’t discriminate, mortal boy. Now. Onto your situation. Oh, how I love this part. At current, you are in what your people call Purgatory—an endless expanse of nothingness. I’m sure you can connect the dots, but since you don’t seem to be the brightest bulb in the house, I’ll explain it more clearly. You died. You’re dead. So so sad for you, I’m sure. I wouldn’t know; I’ve never died before.”

  The gods' ever-shifting voice was callous and dry. A sadistic glee emanated from him. From the smile adorning his face, to the light in his green - oops, now they're blue - eyes, to his laid-back posture, the god seemed both deeply uncaring and mildly amused. He appeared to be leaning on an invisible barrier as he glared downward toward the timid individual.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Shit... I died? No way. I’m in a coma or a nightmare. No way. I was only twenty-five. No way! The man yelled in his own head, his heart thumping loudly in his ears as blood flowed faster, his anxiety and nerves heightening. This god isn’t a god at all; they’re a demon! They’re lying to me!

  “I told you. Demons can be gods, too. They aren’t mutually exclusive states, mortal. Now, silence your idiotic thoughts and allow me to continue, yes?” The god tilted his head, the frightening expression? remaining the same despite the exact features changing. Cheekbones became sharper, eyebrows more prominent. His ears grew pointed and long, and his hair turned from short and blonde to dark and long. The man shakily nodded, waving his hand for the god to continue.

  Won’t get anywhere by panicking.

  “That’s right, so calm down. Now. You lived a fairly mundane, innocuous life.” A clipboard with several loose pages appeared in the god's hands. He flipped through the pages idly, his eyes not shifting, so it was clear he wasn’t really reading anything. “You lived a peaceful life: no grand achievements, a mix of good and bad deeds. You were not particularly good nor evil. At least, up until your death. I was forced to remove your death memories because, unfortunately, you silly little mortals tend to do poorly if you keep them. And before you ask the question brewing in your mind, no, I won’t tell you what happened. However, I will say that due to the nature of your death, I will give you the option of choosing your next step. Hoorayyyy. I will give you a few options, and you will have thirty minutes to decide, then I will push you toward your chosen afterlife. How exciting a moment this is for you. Are you ready to hear your options?”

  Before the man could respond or even nod, the mad god continued to prattle. “Option number one–oh, and these will be in order of my preference–you can volunteer to serve penance in hell for a number of years, then reevaluate your options. Mind you, you weren’t quite evil enough to be sent there directly, so the number of years you spend there is entirely up to you.

  “Option two — you stick around purgatory for a while. Until your soul is naturally reborn rather than magically, you will eventually reincarnate, but you’ll be stuck here, in the endless white with nothing but your own thoughts. For many, this punishment is worse than going to hell itself. Option three: You are reincarnated with no memories of your old world.

  “And the last option, I reincarnate you into a different world with different rules, most of your memories intact. You may not choose this world, although I can take some requests into consideration. The memories you’ll lose are of things that could otherwise harm the world you’ll arrive in. You’ll keep all personal memories; you’ll still understand most of what you had learned in math, reading, and such. You’ll remember the stories from your last life. Taken from you will be your comprehension of the workings of vehicles, weaponry, and a variety of technology. How physics works on a larger scale, your understanding of chemistry. You get the idea. Now, any questions, Isaac Duran?”

  Isaac blankly gazed at Janus, his brain stuttering for a moment or two. He took a few breaths, considering his options. “Will any of these options allow me to see my family again?”

  “No, none of them.” The infuriating, shifting smirk on the god's face remained despite the harsh reality his four words portrayed.

  “Then please give me some time to think,” Isaac said, his voice cracking and tears running down his pale face. I’m really dead, aren't I? Fuck. I never even... Well, there’s a lot I never did, huh? The man started crying harder. There existed, of course, the chance that all that was happening was simply a figment of his imagination. Perhaps he had purchased bad weed from the dispensary, or maybe a stroke pushed him into a coma and now he was lying in a sterile room, family gathered around him as nurses and doctors flitted about.

  I’m dead... I died. His thoughts kept going back to that one note. That, and the images of his family. Of his fiancée Jessica. His brothers and his sister. His parents. He considered all that had gone unsaid, all that he wished he had said. He had suppressed so much within himself throughout the decades, remaining quiet though he desired to speak because of shyness or worry.

  How are they taking this? I guess there’s nothing I can do for them now... I hope Jess will be happy... I wonder if they’ll bring my ashes there... I hope so, even if it doesn’t help me. The man sat there thinking these things for around ten of his allotted thirty minutes. Isaac considered these things for ten of his allotted thirty minutes. He sat there and thought and wept over his death. It felt like a stone had filled his throat, and another was sitting on his chest—a boulder intent on suffocating him.

  After ten minutes, though, he attempted to refocus. Right. Enough crying. I can cry later. My options are what? Hell, purgatory, reincarnation, and being isekai’ed. Did I get hit by a truck? That’d be pretty on-brand for this sort of thing. A light, choked chuckle escaped him. Well, options one and two suck. A lot. They're out.

  “Aww, but you hardly even considered them...” The god muttered loud enough for the man to hear. He stiffened up at the words but ignored them in favor of continuing his musings.

  That leaves me with either being reincarnated with no memories or getting thrown into a new world with my memories mostly intact. I don’t love the idea of some god playing with my head, but that seems to be my option in either case. So, what are the pros and cons of both?

  For reincarnation, I mean, pro is I know where my soul will go... But that’s a con too... The thought of going through corporate America, or experiencing just about any moment in history that he knew of again, was deeply unsettling, even if his memories of such were eradicated. It wasn’t so much that he had hated his life, but that he had spent so much time feeling trapped and pigeonholed by society and the economic structure. His life had been rather pleasant, all things considered, but a hefty portion had felt constrained, forced upon him by various socioeconomic factors.

  If I get isekai’ed... What if there’s magic? Janus, which is, quite obviously, not this guy's real name - “Hey, you don’t know that!” - said the world would have different rules. Other pros... well, a lot of them depend on what kind of world it is. Cons... I’ll miss everyone. I’ll still remember them, and it’ll hurt for a long time. Pros... Magic, maybe some extraordinary creatures, a new family. My memories...

  Battling with his thoughts, weighing the benefits of each option provided to him, Isaac considered amply everything he had just been told. Going back and forth between whether his memories would be a positive or a negative in his new life. I mean, I’ll have a lot of knowledge, so I’ll have a little bit of an advantage... But what if none of what I know applies there?

  “Kid, I haven’t got all day. We need to wrap this up soon.” The crazy god intoned in a serious voice.

  “O-oh, uhm. Sorry. Can you send me to a world with magic? And can you make it so I’ll be good at magic?” Isaac stammered, nervous that the god would say no. “Oh, oh, and please make me a human or something similar... is that possible?”

  The god grinned, toothy and strange, his face reshaping slightly, growing wider, his smile literally reaching his ears. Or where their ears should be. It reminded the man of the symbiotes from Marvel comic books. What were initially human-like teeth fell out, vanishing as jagged, sharp, knifelike teeth replaced them, their mouth twisting to accept the new shape. "Ah, wondrous, you desire to be reborn, retaining the majority of your insignificant memory?" Both requests are doable. Now, if you don’t mind, I really must get going. Enjoy your new life. I do hope I don’t see you here again for quite some time.” They snapped their fingers as they cackled slightly, the once jovial and callous voice turning into something merciless. Slightly nightmarish. As the resonance of the snap faded, the world around Isaac Duran shifted from endless white to a limitless black. “Good luck, and remember, all choices have their consequence.”

  That wasn’t the least bit ominous.