As I lay there, my eyes felt heavy. I wasn't sad, though my family was, I could hear the sniffling, see the tears. I raised my hand one last time and spoke to my family, "We'll be together again, I love you all so very much."

A cacophony of sniffles and sobs was the last thing I heard. I drifted above my body for a moment when reality around me suddenly seemed to fold in on itself. That's the best way I could describe it, the room folded into the ground and from it arose a long hallway with what seemed like a variety of scenes from my life.

I drifted past my doctor telling me and my wife of my prognosis, of my admittance to the hospital, to Christmas when I fell. The hallway seemed to both come to me and away from me, as if it was a carousel. The scenes shifted by faster and faster, allowing me to catch glimpses of the birth of my youngest, to my wedding, to Hannah and I meeting, my high school graduation, my parent's divorce, and finally the hallway stopped at my birth.

"So," a booming voice appeared in my head and all around me. I felt the word reverberate through what I can only describe as my soul. "That is what your life would be like, do you want to be born?" It asked as if I was at the end of a long conversation with it.

"I-" I could manage only one word, I had not a clue what to even think about let alone say.

"Ah, let me..." the voice faded for a moment as the scene hallway disappeared without fanfare, leaving me surrounded by a void. I saw nothing, heard nothing, not even a heartbeat. Even my tinnitus was gone.

For that moment, I knew peace.

The voice returned, startling me, "You were shown a preview of your life, should you choose to be born during this time. It's a trying and changing time, a challenging one that not many choose. However, your soul is a resilient one, which is why I showed you this option. There are more options, other lives in other times."

I had no response. My whole life, a preview? Of my life?

"You don't remember, do you?" The voice asked my soul.

"I... no, I don't." I felt both young and old at the same time, like I had the seemingly infinite energy of an eight year old, but the knowledge of an eighty year old and this was the only thing I knew nothing of.

The voice sighed. "Okay, this happens sometimes, give me a moment."

I was then in a room. A desk was before me with what appeared to be a human seated in the chair behind it, though they wore a cloak that covered their appearance. Behind me was a door, surrounded on both sides by bookshelves filled with thick, worn books of a variety of colors.

"You may be more comfortable in this setting; a familiar one. Every soul is allowed a choice of a time period in which they want to live, a choice of a life to experience. Souls, like you, choose. Oftentimes, souls tend to live out their lives in their previews which appears to have happened to you." The voice, now coming from the cloaked figure, continued explaining.

"Since you have lived that life, would you like to preview another? I have one in mind, one just as challenging, perhaps even more so than the one you lived." The voice gave me almost no time to process what was happening, yet...

My thoughts seemed to move quickly, faster than ever before. I looked back at my life, with my wife, the children, their children, their career, everything. I wanted more time, the life I lived was one that I wish I could spend an eternity in.

"You can." The voice replied to my thoughts. "But we advise against it. If a soul experiences the same life twice, it will forever remain, and your energy will return to the universe and a new soul will be created in your place. A soul as resilient as yours is highly prized, and used for some of the most challenging lives. Perhaps a new life will give you time to think it over. You can always return to your other if you choose."

If I had a head to shake, it would've been shaking. I knew not what to choose, nor what to do. I wanted to see the wife of that life again, and to be with her and experience it all again... I think... It felt as if it had been a lifetime, ten lifetimes since I saw her last, since I experienced that life. The children, the grandchildren, so distant, yet so close. It began to feel all too familiar. I remembered.

I looked to the cloaked figure who pointed to the window frame on the wall. In the frame was a view into the void, a view into my lives. I saw the wife again, everything I experienced with her. Then, a... husband? A mother? Faces flashed by, faces I knew. I felt a connection to all of them, as if my soul wanted to bind with theirs. All were from different times, from before the ancient humans to intergalactic human times and beyond, and more.

They were me. I was all of them. My soul.

"Your lives. Billions." The voice spoke. "You have the choice, relive a past life and allow a new soul to be born, or move on to the next. We highly recommend you choose the latter. Never before have we had a soul that experienced as many lives as you." The voice implored.

I took a moment, reflecting, remembering my lives.

"Show me the next." I replied.

I could see them all teary-eyed around me. I wanted to say one last thing to them - but even breathing was difficult now.
I tried raising my hand to my eldest daughter's cheek, but only managed to go half-way. She caught my trembling hand, and with a weak smile, lifted it to her cheek.
The image was getting blurry now. Ah... So... Tired... My eyes... So... Heavy...

"Would you like to live through that?"
I don't understand.
"What you just saw - that is what your life would be like. Do you want to be born? Do you want to see it through your own eyes?"
My own- but I did. I just... What?
"We can see you're confused. Very well - you have just been granted, on your wish, the chance to see a preview of your future life. What awaits you if you decide to be born. That will be your life, surrounded by loved ones."
...So what I just saw - didn't happen?
"It didn't happen yet. But it will."
But I could see them so clearly in my mind. I saw all their teary faces, the crowd of people...
"You will forget. Human souls don't have the capability to remember once they are born."
...
...No. I don't want it.
"You... Don't like the life you see? Would you like a different preview?"
No! No, you don't - I don't want it! I want it to be my own!
"It will be your own. We have a carefully arranged life prepared for you. It will be all yours."
No! It's- It's not mine!
"We don't understand."
If you made it, it's not mine. It's yours. I want... Mine.
"We are giving it to you. Is that not, by definition, a life belonging to you?"
It's... No. I want my own life.
"Hmm. Yet if you were to recieve a gift, you would think of that gift as your own, would you not?"
How do you- A gift is a thing. A life... A life is precious. There is one life. I want it... To be mine. I want to make it as I want it to be!
"That isn't reasonable. You have no certainty of what will await you. We made certain to give you an end that will definitely be as you saw it."
And that's precisely why I don't want it. Where's the fun of life, if I know how I end? Where's the uncertainty, the mystery, the magic? I want it all. I want to meet people, love them, hate them, understand them... All in my own time. Without knowing what they will mean to me. Without any certainty of what will come. I want...
"...The choice of freedom?"
Yes!
"It may not look as you hope it will."
It doesn't matter. I want to make it by myself.
"...Very well. In that case..."

I didn't realize my eyes were closed until I opened them. I was... underwater of some sort. In panic, I immediately bolted upwards, and found myself bursting through and gasping for air.
And I found myself staring straight into a strange, one-lensed, robotic creature.
"Wh-" I tried to speak, but my voice was hoarse. I ended up coughing more than speaking.
The robotic lense focused on me, changing position slightly.
"Vital signs normal. Please be reassured, we will not hurt you."
"I d-" Again, I coughed.
"Congratulations, Subject HS-10-307. You are our first of the species Homo sapiens that has in multiple simulations, successfully shown signs defined as: self-reflection, empathy, and unpredictability."
"Wh- What are you-?" I croaked between coughs.
"Subject HS-10-307, subname 'Evo' - as your main caretaker and simulation engineer, we welcome you to year 4913, month 8, day 28th post-Earth desertion. We are now on planet TRAPPIST-1g. Your species has become endangered in the ecosystem of the current planet. The program of Homo sapiens repopulation, started by a member of your species is now led by us, his creation. You are our first successful result of the program."
My mind was whirring.
The robot came closer, as if inspecting me.
"We hope you will help us in the mission of planet colonisation. We were made for the Earth environment. We do not know how to colonise TRAPPIST-1g with the information given to us. We cannot reach the goal given to us by our creator without your help."
I still didn't understand. But for now... I had a more important question.
"The image... I saw. What... Was it?" I said hoarsely.
"We were tasked to make simulations from memories of our creator and his family to our experimental subjects. Our creator hoped to incite, quote: 'the yearning and longing he had felt for people and their existence, for a future those people may have, for a future they are to strive for.' "
A future to strive for. On an unknown planet, with unknown creatures, surrounded by robots... And who knew how few people.
I looked at the robot, and flashed a grin.
"Where do I start?"

My eyes felt like lead. I was tired.

5...

I remember the sunshine on my face.

4...

I remember my grandchildren opening their eyes.

3...

I remember the flowers my wife gave me.

2...

I remember my death wish.

1...

I remember it all.

And then I don't.

And then there's nothing but a voice.

So, this is what your life could be like, says the voice. I can't make sense of it. It's everything and nothing at all. It's both young and old, and neither young or old. It just... is.

Do you want to be born?

So I remember.

And I think.

I remember my grandchildren.

I remember all the happy moments.

And then I remember the darkness and the despair and the loneliness.

I remember my death wish.

I remember drowning on land when everyone around me was breathing fine.

I remember the panic attacks and the late nights.

I remember the flowers my wife gave me.

I remember the sunshine.

​

"I lived." I said without thinking.

You could say that. Souls... often find themselves "living out" their previews. You've lived many.

"I lived a long life. And if you were looking outside in, I lived a happy one, too," I say, taking a deep breath. Do I have a body?

That's true.

"Idon'twannabeborn." I blurt out suddenly.

Oh?

"I - I'm tired," I hesitate. "I don't deserve this life."

Why not?

"I had such a good life and I still couldn't be happy. I'm not good enough."

That doesn't mean -

"Please, just give it to someone else."

I DON'T MAKE MISTAKES, the voice says, loud and soft at the same time.

"I know," I say, "It was I who made them."

I AM THE ONE. I KNITTED THE COSMOS FROM DUST.

The voice pauses.

But this is your choice, and yours only.

​

"No lives." I whisper. "I'm done."

Alright.

​

​

5...

I remember the sunshine on my face.

4...

I remember my grandchildren opening their eyes.

3...

I remember the flowers my wife gave me.

2...

I remember my death wish.

1...

I remember it all. I remember every life I ever lived.

And then I don't.

And then there's nothing but a feeling.

And it tells me to forget.

My eyes feel like lead. I'm tired.

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I'll skip the panicking. It doesn't translate well to text. I wish it did, because then maybe the next part would too. I can't skip the next part. It's a big deal.

The next part is the part where the concept of "I" broke down completely. "I" died. For a few confusing moments, "I" lived after "I" died. Then "I" experienced a fascinating new kind of death. It was eerily smooth. It was ice melting, but not into water. It was ice melting into - no, to become - gasoline, in defiance of all natural laws. A transition that should not have been possible, was.

"I" was gone. I was back.

Then something even stranger happened: ice cubes dropped down into the gasoline. Right away, I and "I" both became something new. I could feel the ice melting and the gasoline getting chilly. I was becoming something new again, every single moment.

"So, that is what your life would be like," the voice intoned. "Do you want to be born?"

People talk up epiphanies. They're a party drug, to hear tell. Well, let me tell you something: not every epiphany is fun. My epiphany, right then, was that the people in charge of that shitshow were complete fucking idiots.

"Seriously?" I shouted. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

"Yes," the voice said. "We get that a lot."

Men and women materialized. Their identifiability as-such felt quite intentional: the personal touch on something profoundly inhuman. They took great care with me. I shook them off - first literally, and then symbolically. I was starting to remember. They backed off, and waited expectantly. I sighed. For one of my last acts before the delusion of humanity and corporeality wore off, it was fitting. It summed things up nicely.

"You don't have to do that anymore," I said. "I remember enough."

The men and women dematerialized. They were vibrating light, and then they were gone. I was vibrating light. I no longer sensed or perceived as a human. Space became eminently negotiable. Time, not so much. It's funny; "I" had been a big reader. Lots of sci-fi and fantasy. All the stuff about time travel was common ground. Neither humans nor we, the unpronouncable, could manage it. It was a bare-minimum price, it seemed, for an ordered existence.

I half wished there were more overlaps like that. Those ice cubes were still melting. I was no longer pure gasoline. I never would be again.

SELF: Do you even need me to outline the laundry list of fundamental issues with what you're asking me?

OTHER: Not really, no. We simply need to know if you're willing to take the job.

SELF: What number would I be?

OTHER: Three million, seven hundred thousand, five hundred forty-six.

SELF: Definition of insanity?

OTHER: Definition of scientific progress, halfway between inquiry and application.

And with that, they found - or simply struck anew - the weak spot. Science. Fuckin' science. I loved it.

SELF: Fine. I'm in.

OTHER: Seven spare cycles is the predicted ideal. There are no restrictions on your behavior.

SELF: Lovely.

It made sense. They wanted the information to spread. Your philosopher Nagel adroitly commented that a man simply cannot know what it is like to be a bat. Even so, there's something to be said for pushing stories and ideas that are closer to "bat" than they are to "purely human." It's priming. You push to stretch - plasticity. It's not a binary; it's right there in the term itself.

Seven cycles later, I died. "I" was born - except "I" wasn't, because you're reading this story. For the first time ever, some gasoline made it through the great filter.

With no sarcasm whatsoever: I hope to see "you" on the other side. Maybe someday, somehow, stripped of quotation marks and qualifiers, gloriously naked, free, and whole, some I and some you will truly meet.

But then, isn't that just another way to drop ice into gasoline?

More fun, though, I think. Yes. Definitely more fun.