Stories. There are many ways to describe them, tell them, and sometimes even live them. The stories I'd read in my first life spoke of the imagination of man to explore more, to know more, and create more...
There were all sorts of stories, from religious ones to fantasy ones to cultural ones and beyond. I know I did not cover all the types, but at the very least they tended to have a common setting or plan. A structure that guided the narrative from beginning to end, like an invisible scaffold supporting the weight of the tale.
Back then, I know I did not do proper investigation, but what I do know is the most accurate and all-encompassing nature of a story. From countless reading and rereading (to the point where it made me a simp of common fantasy trope stories), I came to understand that in the majority, if not all of them, there was the beginning, identification of a conflict, climaxes, plot twists, even greater climaxes, minor goals heading towards larger goals, and lastly, the descent of the story as it comes to its close.
Some tried to have different approaches, breaking the traditional molds, subverting expectations, playing with time and perspective in ways that challenged the reader. But they were the minority that I ignored, too comfortable in the familiar patterns of storytelling that I had come to expect and enjoy.
Sadly, because of my ignorance, I came to realize as I was listening to what Codex was telling me that I most definitely should have read those minorities. Should have paid attention to the stories that dared to begin at the end, that started with resolution instead of conflict, that traced backward through time instead of forward.
Why, you ask? Simple:
"Wait... wait... wait... Backup a bit. You mean to say that I died for nothing?" I blurted out after Codex gave an explanation of what was actually going on. The words tumbled from my lips, trembling with disbelief and a growing sense of cosmic injustice.
We sat facing each other in the possible infinite expanse of my mindscape, the golden sky above us shifting in patterns that seemed to respond to my rising emotions. The white surface beneath us rippled with increasing agitation, mirroring the turmoil building within me.
"You want to say that existence was almost destroyed, reduced to oblivion, and it was saved, but... but I'm still needed?" I asked incredulously, my voice cracking on the final word. The absurdity of it all threatened to overwhelm me. To die was one thing—a tragedy, yes, but a personal one. But to learn that while I was crushed beneath tons of concrete, the very fabric of reality itself had been under threat? That some cosmic battle had been fought and won without my knowledge or participation? And that somehow, despite this victory, I was still 'required'?
Codex's luminous form dimmed slightly, as if my distress was affecting his manifestation. "It's not that easy to explain, my lord... it's even more complicated than that," he answered with a bit of difficulty as he faced me, his featureless visage somehow conveying a mixture of sympathy and determination.
We were still inside my mindscape, and he had told me a story—an absurd one at that, mind you. And even after carefully and closely listening without interrupting him, as I slowly calmed down, he drops this shitty bombshell expecting me to simply say, 'Oh, so that's how it is, okay, what do I need to do?' and move on.
For crying out loud, this was a literal existential crisis that was 'solved', and then I'm needed for God knows what! The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. If the crisis was over, if existence had been saved, then what possible role could I—formerly an unremarkable college student, now inhabiting the body of someone who had starved to death—have to play?
"Well, we knew this would be difficult for you to accept... And as such, we prepared a failsafe," he said as he watched my annoyed and pissed-off face that was actually doing its best to mask my greater panic. I could feel the edges of my control fraying, the rational part of my mind trying desperately to maintain some semblance of order while the rest screamed in confusion and fear.
"And what the hell do you mean by that? Who's 'we'? What failsafe...?" I asked in a fake irritated voice while now starting to get concerned. The implication that there were others involved, that this was some kind of planned operation rather than a cosmic accident, sent a fresh wave of unease through me.
My gaze darted around the boundless mindscape, half-expecting other entities to materialize from the golden sky or rise from the white rippling surface beneath us. The idea that I was a pawn in some greater game, that my death and subsequent resurrection had been anticipated and prepared for, was somehow more terrifying than the random chance of the universe.
"Well, for starters, we know that unless you're provided with proper and logical reasoning of facts as well as sequence of events, you'd hardly believe anything else that does not conform to this. To this end, since the situation will need a much, much more open mind than this primitive thinking, there's actually one person who can explain it much better than I would," Codex said as he brought up both his hands into a cupping form.
The gesture was oddly human coming from this being of pure light and cosmic energy—a simple motion that seemed out of place against the backdrop of infinite gold and white. His hands, which had no true physical form yet somehow conveyed the impression of hands, formed a bowl shape in the space between us, empty yet expectant.
"And who might this be?" I asked, now curious, since considering that my world views and notions were crashing down fast, there was basically no one who could have me accept whatever nonsense that I just heard—the nonsense of an existential crisis happening, getting solved, and I'm supposedly supposed to be handling the aftermath...
My mind raced through possibilities—some deity perhaps? A higher-dimensional being? The architect of this reality? None seemed satisfactory, none seemed likely to convince me of the truth of such an outlandish tale.
"Oh... that's simple... it's actually you... well... A you from another timeline, or to be precise, the final variant timeline to exist..." Codex replied with another insane answer that honestly made me look at him as if he's a madman, or in his case, a mad blob of humanoid light.
The words hung in the air between us, incomprehensible in their implications. Another me? From another timeline? The final variant? Each concept was more mind-bending than the last, each one expanding the boundaries of what I thought possible until my sense of reality threatened to snap under the strain.
"Codex, let's not joke around now. What the fuck is actually happening... what do you mean by..." And before I could finish, my gaze shifted from his obscure face, of which I could only perceive his mouth normally, to the spherical light that appeared on top of his cupped hands.
The phenomenon was sudden yet seamless—one moment his hands were empty, and the next they cradled a perfectly formed sphere of light. Unlike Codex's own luminescence, which was white with hints of gold, this sphere pulsed with a complex mixture of colors: deep blues and purples at its core, swirling outward to become teals, greens, and finally a corona of brilliant white-gold at its edges.
The blob of light simply appeared but instantly caught my attention—not because it was there; I mean, everything that led after my death has been one shitty and crazy experience after the other. No, what caught my attention was because I felt something. I do not know from where, but what I felt was a form of familiarity, like that feeling you get from meeting your long-lost twin where both of you recognize and just know this is your other half regardless of what others say.
It was a resonance that bypassed conscious thought, that spoke directly to something primal and essential within me. It was recognition on a level I had never experienced before—not the recognition of a face or a voice, but the recognition of self in other, of sameness across difference.
The sensation was so strong, so overwhelming, that the once calm environment of the golden "sky" and calm white "waters" of my mindscape trembled. Yes, trembled. In a similar manner to how a building can shake from an earthquake, the environment around me shook ever so slightly, and it increased exponentially for a few seconds.
The ripples beneath us grew larger, less orderly, crashing against each other in chaotic patterns that seemed to reflect the turmoil of my emotions. The golden sky darkened and brightened in rapid succession, like a light flickering during a power surge. Even the air—if such a concept existed in this place—seemed to vibrate with a frequency just at the edge of perception.
And in those few seconds, the spherical light that Codex had brought out began lighting itself upwards till it reached eye level—more specifically, my eye level, since it came quite literally in front of me. It hovered there, pulsing gently, its swirling colors hypnotic in their complexity. I found I couldn't look away, couldn't even blink, as if the sphere had captured my attention with hooks of pure light.
And out of nowhere, the golden 'sky' of my mindscape above trembled one last time, and a ripple effect could be seen which began from the furthest points from where we were sitting down and converged just above us. In a spectacular fashion, a golden beam of light rained down like a celestial spotlight, illuminating the sphere and casting long shadows that seemed to stretch into infinity.
Instinctively, I raised my arm and closed my eyes, wanting to shield myself from whatever this beam was going to do, but after not feeling anything and opening my eyes, I only saw the golden light actually... connecting? With the spherical light that was floating before me.
The beam and the sphere joined in what looked like a perfect fusion, the colors of both blending and separating in patterns too complex to follow. It was as if they were communicating in a visual language beyond my comprehension, exchanging information through light and color rather than words and sounds.
"Codex... What's..." Even before I could finish, the spherical light pulsed, emitting a wave from itself, and thereafter, I heard a voice...
"Ahem... ahem... hmmmm, considering what I can feel... Hold on... Aaaah... now I can see..." spoke the voice, and when locating said voice, it actually came from the sphere in front of me.
But what made me freeze was one simple fact... It was MY voice coming from this sphere of light. Not similar, not reminiscent of, but exactly my voice—with all its distinctive inflections, its particular cadence, its unique timbre. It was as if I were speaking, yet my lips remained closed, my throat still.
I sure as hell know I did...
"...not make a recording into any sphere of light before or even after I died, since spheres of light just don't exist, well, normally they don't, but this is the simplest way you can think of it, no?" the person's voice—my voice—said, freakily completing what I had in mind as if plucking the thought directly from my consciousness.
The sensation was beyond unnerving—it was existentially terrifying. To have one's most private sanctuary, one's thoughts, so easily accessed and responded to by another entity was a violation that struck at the very core of my sense of self. Yet strangely, it didn't feel malicious or intrusive—more like the natural continuation of a conversation, as if the sphere and I were merely different aspects of the same consciousness.
"Wait... did... did you..." I stammered, unable to complete the question that burned in my mind. Did you read my thoughts? Did you anticipate my words? Are you truly me?
"No, I did not read your mind, younger me... I'm you, so I know the kind of thought process I had when I went through my first and last reincarnation," the voice from the sphere—the me from there—replied once more to a thought that had just popped up. The casual confidence in the voice was jarring, the easy acceptance of our shared identity standing in stark contrast to my own confusion and disbelief.
"It's nice to finally talk to you, Me," he said with a chuckle, the sound both foreign and intimately familiar coming from the swirling sphere of light. "Seriously, the irony of this situation is not lost to me—Us, actually..."
The humor in his tone was unexpected—a light-heartedness that seemed entirely out of place given the cosmic stakes Codex had outlined. It suggested a perspective I lacked, a distance from these events that allowed for amusement where I could find only anxiety and confusion.
"I know you have questions, and thus why I made this particular sacrifice to make sure no mistakes were made..." this other me said, the sphere pulsing slightly brighter with each word, the colors shifting more rapidly as if reflecting emotional states rather than physical properties.
"So... stop whining, and let's get down to the grinding since..." he said, the familiar phrase hanging in the air between us like an invitation, a password, a secret handshake meant only for the two of us, or specifically between me and myself.
"...It's the grind that will get things done..." I completed in stupefaction, the words leaving my lips before I could even think of them. It was a personal mantra I had developed during my college years, a phrase I repeated to myself during late-night study sessions, during difficult exams, during the countless challenges that seemed insurmountable until broken down into manageable pieces. It was a phrase I had never shared with anyone, had never even spoken aloud in the presence of others.
'Well, shit just got real indeed,' I thought, the mental understatement laughably inadequate for the situation I found myself in. Sitting in some abstract representation of my own consciousness, speaking with a version of myself from another timeline, while a cosmic entity watched on with what I could only imagine was the equivalent of popcorn and a comfy seat.
"Indeed, it has," my other self responded, once again reacting to my unspoken thought with uncanny accuracy. "But reality, as you're beginning to understand, is far more complex than either of us initially believed. The story we thought we were living—the simple progression from birth to death, with all the mundane struggles in between—was merely a prelude to something far greater..."