TriNcess

  I wake up screaming; my chest feels like it's been run through with a jagged knife.

  cp

  "Must we with the screaming?" the ambiguous lump of... person? in front of me asks. "Though I suppose that's normal when you die."

  I'm sorry, what? Die? I just went to bed. What the fuck do you mean, die? I feel a panic attack coming as I start hyperventiting.

  "What the fuck are you? What's going on? What do you mean, DIE?"

  Looking around as I fire off questions, I notice that I'm not exactly sure where the hell this is. Okay. I died. If I'm talking to someone I guess it makes sense I'm not in my room. But why the hell am I in space? The only thing present other than stars is what looks like a model of a pnet with a single moon... and is that Pangaea? No, wait, it's shaped wrong. Wait, no. There's also the... thin man? woman? rotund nana? in front of me who seems sad, happy, young, old, and everything all at once. What the actual fuck.

  Better to just close my eyes and rex my body. Maybe they'll go away. Or expin.

  The sigh of the ages escapes from the per...son in front of me, and I barely hear the under-the-breath "Mortals" they let out.

  As I'm trying to will this problem onto future me, I feel a sense of calm? apathy? wash over me. I'm still sort of panicking; I just don't care. Wow, this is trippy. Although, given what's happening and the weird...god...? in front of me, dying checks out as much as anything. My dreams are weird but not like this.

  "Since we can finally have a discussion. You're dead. The person in charge of your particur pnet doesn't seem to care about human souls, and I thought I'd introduce you to a world in need of some help after I saw your soul floating around."

  Ooooooooooooooookay. God is real? There's an almighty? The agnostics win? God doesn't care? This is a lot to do something with, but eh, I'm dead. I try to comment, but apparently not liking screaming extends to me speaking. It's sorta hard to talk if you're gonna be a bitch about it. Alright, monologue away, oh powerful being who's bored. Wait, how the hell am I supposed to help anyone?

  "I'm known as Tinea. The god of transformation and rebirth," they say—constantly shifting shape between old and young, man and woman, reminding me of my chronic migraine— "And since you're not being put to any use where you are, I thought I'd extend an offer. To put it into terms your mind can comprehend, I'll reincarnate you onto one of the worlds under my dominion. Normally a reincarnating soul wouldn't have any memories of their past, and they'd be given a fresh start. However, since you'll be more helpful as you are, you have the option to keep some of your memories. Unfortunately, a lot of the knowledge you have would be too dangerous, and you need some new knowledge crammed in there. So, we'll have to chip away a few of your memories. Would you like to keep some of them knowing you've been reborn in a different world, or would you prefer to just wake up with what I need you to know?"

  What. The. Fuck. This isn't a decision you just make. Yesterday I was trying to figure out if I wanted to eat toast or noodles for breakfast. Now I'm a fart in the wind being expected to just... decide? Not even being given the choice to reject?

  I mean. I guess this is fine? I can start over. It sucks leaving people behind, but I mean they'll know I'm dead, and it's not like that's changing. Starting fresh, or well, almost fresh, sounds good. None of all the trauma. On the other hand, do I really wanna feel like I've been maniputed by some divine jackass?

  "So, um, questions?"

  That facial gesture is either "ask away" or "I'm gonna smite you into oblivion." But eh, I'm dead. Not like getting deader will matter?

  "Can I get a new body? A uhm female one? Also, I guess I'd like to keep my memories?"

  The divine jackass Tinea smiled as they started to turn into...Mothra?

  "Sure. Hmmm, the Sciences, nope. Too dangerous. Politics, gone. Useless where you're going. Math, basically gone already, you can keep what you remember. History, the general stuff is fine. The Arts, unfortunately too core to your being, yikes, that's a lot of fiction. Get rid of everything not relevant to where you're going. Retionships, gone. No reason to keep you wishing for something you can't have back. Languages, hmmm, your new body can handle that. Let's just get rid of a few of the more pesky memories and we're done! Go and bring back the druids. Maintain the bance of nature. Enjoy your new life as one of the characters you created; never say, I'm not generous."

  Every time they speak, I feel someone is trying to lobotomize me with a wooden spoon, and by the time I catch up to what they're saying, I'm about to start insulting them like I was paid to do it. I feel my mind shutting down and my body rexing as I fade into unconsciousness. I hope this bitch stubs her toe.