Dr. Adrian Vale always knew he was different.
He understood what people were supposed to feel. He knew when to lower his voice, when to look sympathetic, when to place a hand on a shoulder. He had practiced it in the mirror during medical school. Patients cried in front of him almost every week. Families begged. Some even tried to hug him.
He never felt anything back.
It was not that he hated them. He simply did not care.
Medicine had never been about saving lives. It was about security. His parents had pushed him toward something stable and respected, and he had agreed because it made sense. Doctors made good money. Doctors were admired. Doctors did not struggle or so he thought at the time.
That was enough reason.
After finishing another brutal twenty four hour shift as a third year resident, Adrian stepped off the bus near his apartment. His head hurt and his back ached, but what bothered him more was the message sitting unread on his phone.
His mother again.
She wanted updates about fellowship programs and future plans. She liked to brag about him to relatives. Adrian muted the conversation and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
As he stepped down from the bus, tires screeched.
A small child stood frozen in the middle of the street, staring at an oncoming truck.
People shouted. Someone yelled for the child to move.
Adrian stood near the curb. He was close enough to reach the kid if he moved fast.
He did not move.
It was not fear that stopped him. It was something simpler.
Why should he?
He was exhausted. He had worked all day. His life mattered more than a stranger's. He had responsibilities, expectations, plans. Throwing that away for someone he did not know felt stupid.
The truck swerved sharply to avoid the child.
For a second, Adrian thought the driver would regain control.
He didn't.
It jumped the curb.
And it was heading straight toward him.
Time slowed.
Adrian's body refused to move. His mind felt strangely calm.
So this is how it ends, he thought.
Not in a hospital bed. Not from some rare disease. Just bad luck.
He felt annoyance more than fear.
All that effort. All that studying. All those sleepless nights. Gone because of someone else's mistake.
The front of the truck filled his vision.
He finally felt something.
Not guilt.
Not happiness that the child would survive.
Just frustration.
Then impact.
Pain exploded through his body. He felt bones snap. Air left his lungs. The world spun sideways as he hit the pavement. He tasted blood.
So this is what it feels like to die, he thought dimly.
His vision blurred. Sounds became distant.
He wondered briefly if anyone would cry.
His mother probably would.
At the thought of his mother crying he felt nothing.
Darkness swallowed him.
———————————-
When Adrian opened his eyes, he was standing.
There was no pain.
No hospital lights.
No noise.
Just white.
An endless white space stretched in every direction. No walls. No ceiling. No shadows. It felt sterile, like a hospital room stripped of everything except the light.
He looked down at himself. His body was whole again.
"This is a hallucination," he muttered. "Caused by my brain shutting down."
A voice answered him.
It came from everywhere at once. Calm. Neutral. Flat.
"Welcome, Deceased Entity Adrian Vale."
Adrian slowly turned his head.
"There is no one here."
"Correct. Physical form not required for orientation."
The voice continued in the same even tone.
"Cause of death. Vehicular collision. Survival probability at point of impact. Zero percent. Intervention opportunity. Present. Action taken. None."
Adrian's expression did not change.
"So I'm dead."
"Affirmative."
There was no judgment in the voice. No anger. No praise. Just information.
Adrian crossed his arms.
"And this is what. Heaven?"
"Negative. You are currently located in Inter Dimensional Reallocation Space under Cross Dimensional Outreach Initiative 7 B."
That sounded corporate.
Almost like an HR department.
In front of Adrian, three large metallic wheels appeared out of thin air. They floated slightly above the white floor. Each one rotated slowly. Their surfaces were smooth and reflective. On each wheel were countless symbols and names moving too fast to read.
Adrian stared at them.
"What is this."
"Reincarnation Selection Interface," the voice replied.
"Due to overpopulation in multiple higher realms and continued expansion of lower dimensional worlds, deceased entities are periodically reassigned. You have been selected under randomized allocation protocol."
"Selected how?"
"AtRandom."
Adrian felt irritation rise in his chest.
"So I don't get a choice."
"Choice is not supported under current policy."
The first wheel glowed faintly.
"Wheel One," the voice explained, "Species Classification. Determines your new biological form. Possibilities include but are not limited to humanoid, beast type, aquatic organism, avian organism, and miscellaneous variants. Rarity tiers range from common to mythic. Probability weighted by compatibility score."
The second wheel lit up.
"Wheel Two. Environmental Placement. Determines initial spawn location within assigned world. Categories include urban settlement, wilderness region, dungeon zone, oceanic territory, and hazardous biome. Survival likelihood varies significantly."
The third wheel shimmered slightly.
"Wheel Three. Auxiliary Modifier. Grants one additional trait, system, or enhancement. Examples include skill acquisition system, evolution acceleration protocol, bloodline awakening trigger, or passive aptitude boost. Quality tier randomized."
Adrian listened silently.
"So I could end up as an animal," he said.
"Affirmative."
"In the middle of nowhere."
"Correct."
"And maybe with some kind of ability."
"Correct."
There was no comfort in the voice. No promise of success.
It was like it was just going through the motions.
Adrian looked at the wheels again. He felt no fear. No excitement. Just a strange curiosity.
"If I refuse."
"Refusal not supported. Inaction will result in automatic spin after countdown completion."
A digital timer appeared in the air beside the wheels. Sixty seconds.
Adrian exhaled slowly.
He had spent his entire life following expectations. Parents. Professors. Hospital administrators. Now even in death, there was a procedure waiting for him.
He thought about the child in the street.
He did not regret not moving.
He only regretted losing.
If this was another life, then fine.
This time, he would not lose.
The timer continued to tick down.
The three wheels rotated steadily in front of him.
And the voice waited for his decision.