“I’m sorry, Aurora,” her boss said, sitting on the other side of the desk. Nothing good ever started with the words, I’m sorry. At that moment, the desk seemed to elongate. The distance between them only grows. She could already tell where this conversation was heading.

“Sir—” she started to speak but was stopped by her boss, who held out a hand and interrupted her. 

“My hands are tied,” he shrugged his shoulders. “The shareholders are pushing me.” 

He spoke in meaningless phrases, well-practiced words, probably given to everyone in her position. Fucking asshole, she thought but kept a tight smile on her face. “I understand,” she mumbled. They had all heard rumors. The company was downsizing. 

“Your performance was stellar, but times are changing.” 

She stared at the man, taking in the wrinkles of his face. Her boss had to have been in his 40s. His hair had started to go grey, and he was plump. Her eyes traveled down from his smug face to his badge. Fuck you, Bob, she thought. 

Aurora hated that smug face—the way he used to leer at her, always finding reasons for her to come to his office.

“AI is just cheaper,” he finished. 

They sat in silence as she looked at him, blinking. At that moment, she regretted many things, mostly not finishing her engineering degree. It had taken her months to land the job, and now…She could feel her shoulders slump. The only question on her mind was how she would pay her rent. 

Still in a daze, she had made her way outside. Holding a box of her belongings, she looked up at the tall building and sighed. It was cloudy. Gray clouds framed the building. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. The world was indeed changing. With the emergence of AI technology, finding work had been harder and harder. And now she was once again unemployed. She was all but useless. 

Aurora turned away from the office building and started to make her way down the street. She had only taken a few steps. The box held tight to her chest when it started to rain. It wasn’t a light rain either. Water bucketed down, soaking her. She held back tears and kept walking. 

Today was not her day. 

With a sigh, she took a step out onto the crossroad. Everything would be okay. Soon, she would get home. And then…those were thoughts for another day. There was nothing she could do today anyway. 

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“Lady!” someone shouted from behind. 

Auror turned around, but it was too late. The impact was fast, a bus hit her. 

Her death came quickly. She did not have time to process it. One moment, she was walking, and the next, there was a sharp pain. Then darkness. 

So this was death. Aurora thought. She was naked, floating in darkness as if in water. Naked, they are born, and naked, they die. Cautiously, she took a deep breath and found that she could, in fact, breathe here. Her body felt light. She moved easily through the darkness. Swimming towards an undefined location. 

It’s not that bad. 

The darkness was somehow welcoming. In real life, the darkness was scary. It was almost instinctual to be scared of the dark. Thousands of years of evolution had bred the fear into humanity. But here, she felt at home, as if she could spend the rest of her life floating in nothingness. A force lulled her into calmness. 

She frowned, but there was so much she had yet to do. She had wanted to get married, buy a house, and travel. The blanket of calmness fell off, and a panic set in. I don't want to die! Opening her mouth, she tried to speak but couldn't. It was as if all the air around her was stolen. Suddenly, the water of darkness around her became heavy, and her body started to sink down into its embrace. Wildly, she waved her arms, trying to swim back up. Why had no one taught her to swim?

Child of man, a voice called out from all around her. 

It filled the space, rippling nonexistent water and echoing. 

Was this God? Aurora wondered. 

You have been chosen to take the place of a vessel in another world. This girl has had a hard life and sadly passed away too young. It continued. 

For a moment, she stopped paddling. Did she, too, not die too young? She had only been 25 when she died. 

You were but a speck, the omniscient being responded as if reading her mind. Yes, she had been useless, and her life was probably more meaningless than most, but to be called a speck even in her death was too much. Not only had she been fired, but she had died, and now even God reminded her of how insignificant she was. Aurora tried to look around for the source of the omnipotent voice but saw only darkness. She was getting tired of fighting against the weight, and her descent only increased. 

Relax and let yourself be reborn. 

She was not going to let some weird voice tell her what to do. Aurora swam like a mad woman. She thrashed and paddled with all her might—until there was no more might left. She heaved—another regret. Maybe if she had been more active in her life—no, nothing would have changed. Her arms were growing heavy, and she was growing tired. 

Like I said, relax and be reborn. I’d love to stick around and do this all day, but I have other issues to deal with. 

The voice muttered, annoyance painting its tone. If you keep struggling, you’ll be punished. 

Death fucking sucks, Aurora thought and closed her eyes, letting the tiredness take hold of her. It seemed that this was out of her control. 

Fuck you, God. She mouthed before her consciousness faded. 

God sighed. 

Life will not be easy for you, little speck.