Why don’t we, for a moment, ponder the nature of death.

To put it in science-y terms, death is the loss of homeostasis. The body’s systems are too imbalanced, so it stops functioning and slowly disappears, essentially changing its form from that of a living human to that of decomposed biomass. The cells die off, the tissue withers away, and the organs fall apart. A very simple and understandable process.

The universe is a closed system, and everything is an expression or configuration of energy. Matter, light, electricity, heat, pressure, life. Death is simply energy changing its form. The human disappears but the energy remains. All the world is, is energy.

Because I had a brain, I believed that the afterlife was impossible. After all, souls, or at least the concept of a soul that I was familiar with, were said to be capable of experiencing an afterlife. But when you die, your brain stops working and decomposes. How could you experience life, much less the afterlife, without a brain? It was obviously impossible.

Or so I thought.

---------

“Let’s see here... John McAllister, age 24, occupation is doctor, plays a musical instrument...”

Sitting on the other side of the table is a suited man reading through some documents in a droning, monotone voice. Is that my resume he's holding?

“... works out, pet owner, believes in the power of planning and scheduling, favorite organ is intestines...”

I wonder how he knew. I never told anyone about my favorite organ. No one should even know that I have a favorite organ.

“...is still insecure about not making any friends in middle school, secretly misses his old Lego-robotics club...”

What? Isn’t this getting a little bit personal?

“...in his free time, he likes to watch magical girl shows-”

“Hey! That’s enough!” I interrupt.

How dare this pinstriped man try to expose me!

The man puts down the papers and regards me with hard eyes.

“I agree, Mr. McAllister. I have limited time and patience, so let’s get this show on the road. My name is Daniel Albert, employee of Ferryman Co., and you are dead.”

What?

“Impossible.” I immediately say. I certainly don’t remember dying. “If I was dead, I couldn’t experience this. This must be some kind of joke. Or a kidnapping.”

The man, Albert, just rubs his eyes and sighs.

“No. You are dead. If you were alive, you wouldn’t be here. But I could care less, because my job isn’t to debate the nature of death or other such philosophical nonsense with you. My job is to get you reincarnated.”

I scoff at his words. Reincarnation. A concept created by a religious person. While I have no hatred towards religion, I don’t believe in religious, mystic, magical, or otherwise unscientific concepts. I’m not one to be gaslighted either.

My audible scoffing is ignored, as the man in question continues speaking.

“I would prefer to get this over with as soon as possible.” He drawls. “To begin with, I’ll be asking you a few questions. Firstly, in three or less words, how would you describe your vision of the ‘ideal person’?”

Hmm, a question. Mr. Albert wants to continue this... thing? Now that I think about it, what exactly is this situation? A mistake? Too elaborate. A kidnapping? Possible, but then, wouldn’t I be restrained in some way? Perhaps told to pay a ransom or something?

A prank? Well, this certainly fits the bill, even if it is a rather elaborate one. A quick scan of the very empty room reveals no cameras, but you never know. After all, cameras have only gotten smaller and smaller over the years.

 Well, if this truly is a prank, then it should be harmless to answer the suited man’s question.

What do I imagine when I hear ‘ideal person’?

Well, I think about... a responsible person, able to clearly imagine his or her desires, and then commit to the long-term responsibilities necessary to achieve those desires.

“I guess I imagine someone who is tenacious, enduring, and meticulous.”

He hums, and scratches a pen at a clipboard.

“I see. Secondly, what is your favorite story genre?”

Another strange question, for a prank like this. What do stories have to do with reincarnation?

“I don’t know exactly. In my mind, a story is as good as its writer. The genre doesn’t matter.”

He sighs again. “I understand your sentiment, Mr. McAllister, but I need a clear answer.”

My mind churns, and in a flash, I recall the books of Tolkien.

“Oh. Well in that case, I enjoy fantasy... when it’s done well.”

“Of course.” He wrote on the clipboard again. “Last question. What about your life do you think you could have done better, if you had the chance to do it again?”

I dislike thinking about the past. It feels too much like regret, which is pointless. Things that I could have, would have, or should have done always pop into my head. I mean, it’s the past! I can’t change it! I can only use it to think about the future.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

But if I must.

Things I could have done better in my lifetime... for starters, I accidentally spilled coffee on my boss once. There was also that time I mixed up locations and took my carpool group to a naturist resort... ah, and that incident with the frogs in the soft-serve machine, I can’t forget about that one (even if I wanted to).

“If I had the chance to live my life again, I suppose I would practice vigilance more often. I’ve created some rather gruesome ice-cream-sundaes due to not checking the soft-serve machine for frogs.” I say, believing my answer to be sufficient.

Albert makes a face, but jots my answer down regardless.

“Hmm. Well, that is all for the questionnaire portion.” He stands up from his chair, smooths out his suit, and snaps his fingers. In a blink, a wheel appears beside him. My eyes widen in amazement.

“The next thing for you to do, is to spin this wheel.” He says.

The wheel looks like a classic pie-chart wheel, similar to what you would see in game shows such as ‘Wheel of Fortune’. But the strange thing about it is, I can’t read the labels on each slice. The words keep changing as I try to make them out. One moment the slice says Floral Fortuity, the next, Umbrella Underbelly.

“This wheel is random." Explains Albert. "Its function is to decide what type of world and fate you are reincarnated to.”

A whole world? This is quite the in-depth prank, isn’t it?

Is it really a prank though? I saw Albert create a wheel of fortune by snapping his fingers... no, it must have been a trick with the light, or some such. A magic trick.

I stand up from my own seat and walk over to the wheel. I look to Albert and he nods, signaling me to spin it.

I give the wheel a small push, and am surprised by the resulting movement. I barely put any force into the push and it’s spinning like crazy!

It spins, and it spins. And it keeps spinning...

“Ah, this may take a while.” Says Albert after a few seconds. “I advise you to take a seat.”

Seated at the table once more, I make conversation with Albert to pass the time.

“This is a very interesting prank. Would you mind telling me how you did that trick, summoning the wheel?”

He rubs his eyes and turns his nose up at me.

“There is no trick.” He states bluntly.

I close my eyes and nod.

“Of course. A magician doesn’t reveal his secrets.”

I admire the man's professionalism.

He just rubs harder, and mutters to himself. The sound of the wheel spinning permeates the room for a minute or so until I break the silence.

“Do you do this to many people?” I ask.

Albert audibly groans.

“Yes. Today was particularly bad.”

I frown.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

He looks at me over his glasses and complains.

“Today’s first client was a thirty-year-old neck-bearded man who still lived in his parent’s basement. The grown man threw a tantrum, demanding I give him a ‘enslavement cheat-skill’ in order to, and I quote: “create a slave harem”! I mean, even if the company policy allowed for things like that (which it never would), there’s no way I would give him such a power. Just imagine the atrocities he would commit!”

I grimaced. Indeed, it was rather horrid to imagine someone like that with such power.

“The next one was a young girl who felt that she was entitled to reincarnation as a princess. She spewed some cock-and-bull story about how she suffered in life, and therefore deserved a better afterlife. I had to spend three hours explaining to her that the karma currency system was done away with ages ago due to abuse. And though I didn’t tell it directly to her face, I doubted she would fare well as a princess anyways, given her abysmal temperament!”

His face was mildly contorted in anger at this point of his rant.

“The last one was a disgusting politician who had also led a cult. He made such a fuss, demanding he be returned to life, or be given monetary remuneration for his death, or compensation of a similar nature.” The suited man shakes his head. “All livings things inevitably die. It’s simply a law of nature. Should we also recompense the Earth for spinning?”

Albert let out a long breath he had been holding, and sighed.

“There are no cheat skills, or cheats in general. You do not receive a happy second life for suffering in your first one. You are owed nothing for dying, and you do not become special by dying. Rebirth is meant to be a fresh start, not a reward or punishment! Why can’t mortals understand that all are equal in death? They drive me mad!”

He slumps back in his chair, his rant mostly over.

“...Well, at least you’re not so bad. Even if you refuse to understand that you are no longer alive.” He adds in a softer tone.

I choose to ignore his statement of my death. From what he’s been saying, I can tell that Albert has been through a lot today.

Poor man. This is why having manners, or at least basic emotional awareness, is important. Having to deal with personified impoliteness is an easy way to lose your marbles. Although, that begs the question:

“If such people drive you mad, then why do you bother with them?”

Albert frowns.

“Simply a requirement of the job. It’s one of those ‘somebody has to do it’ situations.” He replies.

True. Everyone has to do things they dislike at some point in their lives. Leaving one’s comfort zone is necessary for a fulfilling life.

A beep sounds out from across the room. It sounds like my old microwave.

“The wheel is finished spinning.” Albert states.

“Yes.”

We stand up from our seats, and walk over to it.

The wheel’s tick-mark had landed on a slice labeled: Fiber Fabricate. Odd name.

“What does it mean?” I ask, interested to know what Albert makes of it.

He just raises an eyebrow and shrugs.

“I’m just as good at interpreting this as you are. I suppose your next life will have something to do with fiber, fabrication, or both.”

“Like... a knitter?” I ask, playing along.

“Maybe. Then again, I remember a client who received the fate: “Intestinal Investigator”. He thought it meant he would become a gastroenterologist, but he ended up as a full-contact badminton player instead. He lived to be a very successful man...”

Albert’s voice trails off as he recalls a previous client. After a moment of reminiscence, he shakes his head to clear his thoughts, and gets back to business.

“Well, Mr. McAllister. This is where our paths diverge.”

“Oh? That’s it?” I ask, wondering if the prank is over.

I look around for cameras a second time, but there are none. The only things I see are Mr. Albert and the wheel that is still displaying Fiber Fabricate in great blue letters.

“Yes. This is the end of our time together.” He confirms.

I slump my shoulders a little. This was a fun prank. It definitely broke the monotony of my adult life.

“Well that’s too bad. This prank was very entertaining, and I did enjoy talking to you.” I say, voicing my honest thoughts.

Albert simply rolls his eyes and keeps talking, though he’s no longer frowning.

“You’ve been a much better client than the last three. And I too, have thoroughly enjoyed my time talking to you. On behalf, of Ferryman Co., I thank you for being... polite, if not understanding. Now, goodbye.”

Albert snaps his fingers and suddenly, reality tears apart.

'Holy shiitake...' I think to myself.

My senses are telling me that this isn’t simply a paper backdrop being torn. They're saying that this is a full-blown spacial anomaly; a black hole in the world. Rationality screams that it has to be a backdrop, or some sort of magic trick, but...

I quite literally can’t believe my eyes.

My belief in being pranked trembles in unsteadiness. A drop of sweat rolls down my back.

“Ah... that’s not a backdrop, is it?” I shakily ask.

Without answering, Mr. Albert simply smiles knowingly and gestures to the anomaly.

“Please, step through.” He says calmly.

For a moment, I’m frozen in uncertainty and disbelief. Step through this alien doorway? This unscientific object? This... thing? I dither for a few seconds, trying to make sense of this situation.

Before I can, the pinstriped man sighs, and an unseen force takes control of my nerves. Unintentionally, I take one step forwards. Then another. And another.

The tear in the world draws nearer. As I’m about to fall through, I hear Albert giving one last goodbye.

“For your politeness, I wish you a fulfilling next life. Though I doubt you need any wishes of mine in order to be happy.”

And with that, I fall in.

The blackness of the beyond fills my vision. My consciousness blurs and fades, sending my off to a new life.