Heavy. That was the last word that ran through his head before he fell asleep. It was a good word to describe the situation. The massive block of stone he was holding was definitely heavy. It was so heavy that it caused him to fall to the ground when he took hold of it. He fell face first into the river bank. The cold, wet rocks scraped against his face and made his skin red, but the pain wasn’t there. That was being blocked by all the booze.

Cold. That was the first word that ran through his head after he woke up. He was still holding that big stone object the old man handed him, whatever it was, but now he wasn’t on the ground anymore. Now he found himself lying on a cold, smooth floor. Did the cops pick me up? He thought. Wouldn’t be the first time.

It hadn’t felt like he slept all that long, but it was apparently long enough for him to be dragged somewhere completely foreign. No, foreign wasn’t the right word now that he was looking around. Alien was more suitable. The whole room wasn’t just dark, it was completely pitch black. Even through the darkness though, he could still see himself and the massive stone he left on the ground clear as day.

He observed the stone that he was previously too inebriated -to- observe. It was a completely solid, porous stone carved into the shape of a sword. Unlike most swords, this one did not have a sharp edge nor a point. The blade was rectangular and rounded on top with three holes in the shape of a triangle at the end. Moreover, he discovered why the slate had felt so immeasurably heavy. It was roughly as tall as him, and about half a foot wide. It was a miracle that old man could hold it at all.

His attention turned back to the completely black room. He walked around with his hands outstretched, trying to feel some sort of wall or something. A wall might mean a door or, hell, even just a light switch. He was only able to walk about ten feet in any direction from where he started before he hit a wall that was just as cold and smooth as the floor. He walked its perimeter, feeling up and down for a knob, a button, anything really, but found nothing. He was in a completely circular, completely dark, completely cold, completely smooth room.

The reality of the situation was slowly starting to set in. This scenario wasn’t possible. All the unexplainable features of this room coupled with the fact that he didn’t feel even slightly hungover was extremely concerning.

Shit, I guess I did it, huh? The night before, he had planned to kill himself. His plan was to spend every last dollar he had on alcohol, walk down the creek that divided his town in two down to his old hangout spot, and use the revolver in his pocket to paint the underside of the bridge red. He checked his jacket pockets. Sure enough, it came with him too. Some cheap revolver he bought at a gun shop a few nights ago just for this occasion. Sure, it wasn’t the cheapest thing he could’ve gotten, but he wanted something that could shoot a large enough caliber to make sure he didn’t accidentally end up eating through a tube somewhere.

He didn’t know much about guns, but he knew that this revolver was supposed to hold six shots. He only needed one, but he loaded the whole thing up anyways. Had to buy the whole box of ammo, so why not? He slid the cylinder out and saw six holes filled with six bullets. The gun had yet to be fired. Maybe he drank himself to death?

Doesn’t matter. The circumstances of his death were inconsequential now. He was certain he was dead, and these were his first few moments in the afterlife. He had really, really hoped there wasn’t an afterlife. It didn’t matter which religion you followed, it was almost certain that he would’ve wound up in any version of hell written on paper. Was this hell though? All hints seemed to point toward purgatory. Not like that would be that much better: eternity in a small, cold, dark room with nothing but a massive stone sword and a gun in his pocket. He gave the gun a pat. You might be my only hope out of here, little guy.

His resolve for suicide had weakened now that he was dead. Unsure of what would happen if he shot himself now, he kept the gun tucked away. It’s possible it would all stop. He would achieve his original goal to simply stop existing. It’s also possible that the bullet would rip him apart, he would feel every agonizing moment, and he would continue to be conscious. He was already dead, could he die more? Knowing nothing, all he could do was make laps around the room.

“I’m so sorry for that wait,” a voice boomed down from above. It was so startling that he fell against the wall and slid down to the floor. God? “We weren’t expecting you today, so Xexax had to shuffle some things around, hope you understand. Oh, let me just, uh, hit the lights for ya.”

As the mysterious figure spoke, the floor suddenly illuminated. An intricate pattern of orange lights appeared on the ground. They rotated and shifted as he looked at them. It was filled with complex geometry and weird symbols that looked made up. Across the room from him was a man. No, not a man. Sort of a man maybe? It was hard to tell. The figure was almost blurry, as if someone had put a filter over it. It definitely had two arms and two legs, but its body was pretty wide and its head was sort of square. Are those antennae?

It sat in a red, plastic chair that somehow had bypassed the blurry filter. It was the kind they used in schools that were usually attached to the world's tiniest desks. It was also floating. Only a few inches off the floor, but that made no difference to a man who had never seen a floating chair before. “God?” This time he spoke the question out loud.

“No, no,” the figure responded. “God’s not real. Sorry if you wasted a good chunk of your life worshiping any of them. Got a lot of evangelical ones in the other room today. Big cult sort of thing, be glad you aren’t Yk-lk,” it laughed. “Okay, so, before we start, you want a coffee or anything? Zortar makes a mean cup of joe, let me tell ya.”

“What?” he responded. “N-no. I’m good, no coffee, thanks.” What the hell is this guy talking about?

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“Alright, well, if you need anything, just stop me at any point and we can work somethin’ out, ‘kay?” It cast a blurry smile. “My name’s Odododo. I would ask yours, but it doesn’t really matter, you’re about to pick a new one. So, you might’ve guessed that you’re in heaven or hell or some other kind of afterlife, and that is partially correct. You could call this an ‘afterlife,’ but it’s more like a checkpoint on to the next stop.”

So I really am dead. I did it. He felt guilty. He won, but he didn’t like it. He wanted to go home.

“Normally, your soul comes here after your body dies, we give the whole explanation, and set you up with a new life and hope you do better. But,” it paused and took a deep breath, “you’re a bit different. You came here without the whole death part, and, frankly, we’re not sure why. So here’s what we’re gonna do,” it clapped. “We can’t send you back to your world, the Flow doesn’t go in reverse, so you’re getting a new, temporary life for now. The guys down at R and D are gonna look into what exactly happened with you, and when we know, you’ll know.” Great, I’m not dead, just an alien guinea pig.

“To avoid a lot of headache down the line and to give consolation for your sudden departure from your old life, our team is going to do three things for you. First, and most importantly, you’re going to keep your memories. Yay!” It waved its arms and waited, expecting a response. After an awkward pause, it cleared its throat and continued on. “Uh, second, you’re keeping your current body. This could be a plus or negative depending on your perspective, but, just from a quick glance at those organs ya got, I think you’ll get along fine. Liver’s lookin’ a little worse for wear, but cut down on the poison and it shouldn’t cause any major issues.

Lastly, we fought hard with the bigwigs up there to let you choose your recycling location, but there’s only so much we can budge. I did everything I could for you, and ended up scoring you  a pretty good deal I think. You will be sent to your new life with the belongings you had when you came here!” Another pause for hand waving. “That’s, uh, those clothes, whatever’s in your pockets, and that big rock right there. Pretty unusual for your world, but I’m not one to judge. Any questions before you pick a new name for yourself?”

The barrage of words left no room in his brain to even think of questions. Of course he had questions, he had millions of questions. He just didn’t know what they were. A screen popped up in the middle of the room. It was the same orange as the lights below him, but it asked him to enter a name. “Whenever you’re ready,” Odododo reassured. “No rush at all. I’ll be right next door if you need me.”

With that, he was alone again. He was alone to think about the implications set out in front of him. He was getting a new life. The reincarnationists were right. Hats off to those guys. Maybe this was what he wanted all along. It wasn’t an end he craved, but a new beginning. He stepped up to the screen. Only now did he realize how utterly silent his footsteps were in this room.

It was a big question. What did he want his name to be? He didn’t have anyone back home that he respected enough to name himself after. There were countless stories with memorable characters that he could pull from. He wanted something that sounded cool, but not fake. He wanted something unique, yet easy to spell. Something with meaning. He reached out towards the keyboard made of light and started with one letter. “D.”

Oops. He instantly made a typo. He was aiming for “E.” Sheepish from the simple mistake he made, his hand drifted towards the backspace. It didn’t even register when he made his second typo. Instead of the backspace, he pressed the enter key.

The lights shut off almost with ferocity. It all screamed, ‘your time’s over, get out.’ His eyes became heavy. His body was too weak to continue standing. One more time, he fell asleep. When he awoke, his new life would begin. For the first time in a while, he felt hope. He smiled.

D woke up alone in a field. Surely enough, he had all his memories still. His clothes were still on his same body, and the big stone sword was laying on the ground next to him. That blurry man wasn’t lying. He stood up to get a better view of his surroundings. Nothing but rolling hills with long grass that swayed in the breeze surrounded him. Panic crept through him. He may have gotten a second chance at life, but what sort of start was this? There was nothing in any direction. If he didn’t find some new scenery, he would die of starvation and dehydration quickly.

Any direction was just as good as the next so he began to walk in the direction he happened to wake up facing. He only got a few steps away when he turned around. Should I bring that? The stone sword was still laying right where it had been. It wasn’t something he had an attachment to. It wasn’t even something he particularly liked. Not to mention how heavy it was.

He backtracked to the sword and squatted down beside it. With both hands on the handle, he prepared himself for a big lift. He wanted to test how heavy it really was. This whole day was so beyond anything he could call ordinary, so maybe this sword has some sort of importance. He and the sword shot up so quickly, he fell over backwards. The sword flew from his hands and landed a few feet behind him with a mighty thud. It’s light?

He tried again. This time standing with only one arm. It lifted with ease. The crater it left revealed that, while light in his hand, the sword was definitely much heavier than it felt. That was good enough for him to bring it with him. After all, he was a man tied to his possessions, and he thought this sword was a pretty cool one. His old home had a few fake swords lining the walls. This one could be the start of his new collection.

As the sword dug a line behind him, D began to wonder if it was just the sword that was light or if he had developed some sort of super-human strength when he came to this world. There were plenty of stories like that, so he didn’t consider it out of the realm of possibility. The revolver didn’t feel any lighter, but he wasn’t sure if it was in his head or not. It was never all that heavy to begin with. His clothes would be a similar story. Nothing else was around to test his hypothesis, so he could only walk while mulling the idea over. Maybe he would stumble across a large boulder at some point.

He walked farther than he had in a very long time. His legs started to scream with pain, and it hadn’t even been an hour. His legs were just going to have to put up with the burning. Muscle fibers tearing was bound to feel better than starving. His back was beginning to hurt too. Then his neck. One after one, every part of his body started burning.

After some period of time that was too long for D to keep track of, his scenery began to change. Fresh patches of soil dotted his path. Somebody had just dug holes big enough for D to stand in and filled them. Somebody should be nearby. There were only a few at first, but the patches grew more and more until he could hardly avoid stepping through one. Even further along, the rolling hills were now littered with tree stumps. They didn’t appear gradually, however. There was a stark line that clearly divided the empty fields and what used to be a forest.

D continued to march on, convinced there would be something just up ahead. As he reached the apex of the tallest hill he had encountered, his suspicions proved to be true. The ground past this hill gently cascaded down into a valley. A small village surrounded by what few trees remained of the forest lay at the bottom of it.

His spirit became reinvigorated as he began to run towards the village. Maybe “run” is a stretch. He attempted to run, but his legs produced a stumble as he ventured down into the valley. He managed to stop himself from going into an uncontrollable tumble a few times. It wasn’t until he reached the trees that he slowed down. The thick foliage impeded his movement. Even in such a vast expanse, it all seemed too crowded.

The bushes rustled and branches flew by as he emerged into the small village he saw from atop the hill. His legs weren’t having it anymore. He collapsed at the first site of civilization. Not again. His breath became labored. Stay awake. He was getting tired of passing out. Please stay awake.