I was blinking every other second trying to stay awake.

It was the situation that you’ve all felt at been in at least once. You’re sitting down and for a very brief moment everything goes black and then colour comes back in a fraction of that already minor lapse of consciousness.

Your body starts to overheat. Power leaves you as you realise you’re going to fall asleep if you don’t do anything. It’s a pretty horrible feeling especially when you’ve got things to do, though it probably wouldn’t be happening in the first place if you were doing anything remotely interesting.

That or for whatever reason you didn’t catch a wink of sleep and your heart is running off coffee and the fear of punishment. In my case though it was both, so double the trouble and twice the fire burning the candle at both ends. For me the wax was dripping over my hands and burning my flesh so deep it scorched my bones.

My head crashed against the table, smashing into the keyboard and the pieces flew out like the shrapnel of a grenade. My body was too numb to feel the pain, so all I felt was a mild sensation momentarily crawl over my face.

I tried to move but all I could do was groan and then I felt something warm move up my throat and down my nose.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

It was then that I knew I was in trouble. My body was failing like it had never failed me before.

Then my heart began to pump as if it was doing a triathlon and then I knew I was screwed.

I was going to die. Not by being hit by a truck. Not by offing myself. Not peacefully in my bed.

My lips were filled with the taste of iron and boy was it bitter.

The beating of my engine of life began to slow down and touch, taste, sight, scent and sound began to abandon me. 

I had worked this near thankless job ever since graduating college. From 22 to 30. 

I did what everyone else did. I wasn’t particularly talented.

So the only option is to make up for that with hard and constant work. I sucked up to my superiors and worked hours that weren’t on the books for nothing or close to nothing almost every working night. 

Everyday became a grey blur of me dealing with other people's problems that they couldn’t bother dealing with on their own. If not that then menial deskwork, typing up long reports of waffling words deep into the night until the break of dawn. Just to get up in a few hours and do it all over again.

Never having any real time for myself or my own problems.

I did all of this, worked my butt off and threw away my sense of self and dignity so that when I became an older man I could live my life on my own terms… that was never going to happen.

Not here. Not in this life anyway. I started bawling my eyes out. Or at least tried to.

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My body was too tired to even vent my frustrations. It was too busy dying. 

Shit. I was filled with regret. There were a great deal of things that I wish I could change but the real problem came from how I lived my life. Eight years of work and my entire youth spent chasing a modest dream that was never going to happen now. My rage and anguish raged over and I cursed.

“FUCK!”

Then everything went black.

My last words were filled with hate for myself and everything around me.

When light returned to me I was looking at myself. Or rather my cold corpse strewn over the silver coated operating table. Short black hair without even a strand past or covering the ears. 

Dull brown eyes. Pale skin. A simple inoffensive frame with little muscle. The only thing that was distinctive about me was my eyebrows and mostly because they looked like I shaved them to look stylish but they simply grew that way naturally. 

I was dead. Worst I was a ghost. Was my regret so great that this was my fate?

To float around my corpse for all eternity? I tried to move my ethereal body but nothing happened at all. I didn’t budge from my position. I tried to see if I had hands or anything but… I wondered if I could go insane without a brain to rot. I looked closer at my body and the table it lay on.

A small white tag with the time of death and cause.

Estimated Time of Death - 19:35

Cause of Death - Overwork

I tried to sigh and while the sound of air leaving my lungs filled my non existent ears it was simply a recollection from my memory. Like recalling a song in your head. It wasn’t exactly the same but it was enough to give a scrap of the real thing. I started to feel sick as well as depressed.

It was over. Everything was gone. I thought that this would be my not so living hell until time itself perished along with me, but then I heard a voice splattering messily towards me.

“Congratulations! You have won a prize! Would you like another life?”

The voice was like the sizzling of static  with a faint musical flare to it, and every word was delivered with a sense of stilted disconnection.

Appearing out of nowhere before my corpse was a robot about 6 foot tall. 

A man made of bronze with exhaust pipes spiking out of its back and had light bulbs for eyes with a big smile plastered on its face crafted out of piano keys.

“Maki Hibiki, you have won 32nd prize! A chance to live another life with a recreation of your body within another world! You shall receive no benefits beyond a brief introduction by myself, Unit 08. Please tell me if you accept. Otherwise I will need to reallocate this prize to another deceased individual.”

The keys flickered with golden light as the scrap of metal spoke to me.

For a second I hesitated. This was all too bizarre and honestly cliche. 

I mean, really? This tired old plot again? Yet I quickly chucked out such thoughts.

This thing, whatever it was was offering me life. I had to assess it properly.

Life in another, most likely fantasy world; with nothing special given to me would be hellish.

A world where power is the most effective and sometimes the swiftest used tool.

It would be like… no, it would absolutely be starting all over again.

I wouldn’t have any “cheat” abilities. I wouldn’t even start with a new family or youth.

I’d have to be a 30 year old dropped into a foreign land without money, connections or strength. 

Rules which defied my common sense of logic that I’d need to learn from scratch.

I’d have to understand a whole new definition of common sense.

I’d likely lose all modern convenience. I’d lose everything but my life.

Could I really do all this again? A second time? At this age? In worse conditions? 

If I had fists they would be balled so tight my nails would be drawing blood.

I looked to the machine with every emotion I’ve ever held.

There wasn’t really a choice was there? If your only options are life or death…

“I accept. I choose to live.” Every single key on the wide smile it held glowed a gleaming gold.

“Excellent! Let us begin!” 

I laughed. Well at least this new world won’t have to deal with nuclear weapons or catastrophic climate change. Or at least… I sure hope not. Finishing that thought a sound like the snapping of fingers ringed across the room and then there was a blinding light.