Chapter 1

  I once had a name. John. John Stiltson. That was what I was called in my old life. I’m sure my new parents gave me a new name, but at the moment, I don’t have a clue what it is. The language they were speaking is very unfamiliar to me. I wasn’t a polyglot in my old life, or anything, but this language does not sound like any I’ve ever heard.

  My first days were spent eating, sleeping, and performing messy bodily functions. When I was not doing any of those things, I was listening, watching, and trying to learn about this new life. The threads still surrounded me. I couldn’t tell what they were, but I did notice there were slight differences in them. One felt kind of solid. Another flowed more like liquid. A third seemed to dance like the wind. There where others too, one that felt like the inexorable march of time. One that felt like the space within the abyss. The final thread I could see felt like the charge in the air before a lightning strike. The light let out by a candle flame. The abundant energy within the sun. This one was the hardest to quantify, but also the easiest.

  To my mind, they became, solid, liquid, gaseous, time, space, and energy. I was going to use plasma as the last one, since that was the feeling I got, but it also had an energy to it. Until I knew more, that’s what I’ll refer to it as. Each had a distinct feel to them, almost a mental ‘color’. Brown, blue, green, purple, black, and white. That’s how I began to envision the threads based on their type.

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  Months passed me by as I learned to use my new body. I slowly learned the local language.

  “You’re such a good little boy, Jorth. Yes you are!” The cutesy talk can get annoying real quick, when you have the memories of a full grown old man. I put up with it, though, because, what else could I do. -I was only a few months old.

  “Are we sure he’s fine, Marta? He rarely cries. He’s always looking around or what appears to be listening. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a baby do that.” Of course you haven’t, Dad, I thought, I’m not a normal baby. Not that I could say that, yet. I still wasn’t sure if I even would tell them. ‘Oh yes, by the way, I have memories of another life in another world, where I lived until I was 82. Oh, and I can see threads within everything.’ That wouldn’t lead to the loony bin or whatever they have like that here.

  “He’s already starting to crawl. He looks like he’s about to walk any moment now, Jarrod. He’s just advanced for his age. I wouldn’t worry about it right now.” Of course, mothers always think their baby is advanced for their age. To be fair, I was, but she most likely would have said that in any case.

  Now, you’re probably wondering how I learned most of the language in a few months. I am too, if I’m being honest. They say baby brains are very absorbent and like little sponges for knowledge, so I can only chalk it up to having an adult mentality within a baby’s biology. I should also note that I’m not sure my parents, and by extension myself, are entirely human. Granted, I’m not sure humans even exist here, but we’ll continue under the assumption that my parents and I are the closest thing to my previous body’s race. There were little things that weren’t quite ‘human’ to them. The slight slant of the eyes. The ears were just a little pointed. The noses seemed a bit flatter than a normal human’s. Stuff like that. Oh, and the two heartbeats. Indeed, that discovery almost gave me a heart attack. Well at least one of them. Pun fully intended (intend your puns, you cowards!).