So. Allow me to introduce myself. Formerly Aleksei Igorevich, now Shade Aero. A young man of twenty-five who died of brain cancer in his world and was born in this one. How? No idea, but it comforts me to think, "through the Force." In my past life, I was one hell of a person. Complicated. No—not so much complicated as willful. Yeah, that's better. It so happened that the phrase "You must," or "You are obliged," triggered uncontrollable fits of rage in me. What usually happened to the offender in those cases doesn't need to be said; let's just say nothing good. How was I not taken out with that kind of setup? Well, formally nobody could pin anything on me, because the note about a "mentally ill person with a tumor in his head" was stronger than reinforced concrete. And informally, I could stand up for myself. Thanks to my mother—dragged me to fight clubs as a kid, and she really did train me up. And I didn't go looking for trouble too hard, either.
And although people considered me, at best, a psycho, my head worked very, very well. It's just that the boxes people put you in didn't suit me at all. But I wasn't a complete bastard, either. My personal moral standards often came into conflict with what everyone accepted as "normal." That's where the conflicts came from. Sucking up to get a higher position? Not in this life. Bending under a boss's rudeness? Punch him in the face and walk away calmly. Watching idiots harass children? I'd rather hang myself than walk past.
Think it's hard to live like that? You're absolutely right. But hard doesn't mean impossible. I had a job in a normal (!) team, and good relationships. I had my own life with a close circle of people who shared my views; I had things I valued and things worth fighting for. And I fought. At least, I tried to.
Yeah, I had a kind heart. A lot of people told me that, but I just joked it off and brought small gifts to my "brothers" and "sisters" in misfortune. They even offered me a place in the house of death, but no thanks. I lived free, and I left free, trying to take from life as much as I could.
But who knew it wouldn't be the end, only the beginning?
***
I came to slowly. Very slowly. Sensations returned unhurriedly, piece by piece—like someone was assembling me from a puzzle. And throughout that assembly, it was dark, quiet, warm, and calm. Very calm. Though no, that's a lie. Muffled, incomprehensible sounds reached me, impossible to make out. As for me, judging by what I felt, I was lying curled up into a ball. Unfortunately, my senses were heavily dulled.
Time felt stretched, but there was no need to hurry. Thoughts rolled in waves; sometimes my muscles seized with cramps. And even though it was unpleasant, in those moments I understood—my arms and legs were intact. That continued until I finally came to and tried to move deliberately. And the moment I did, one simple fact finally hit me. I was floating in something. Besides, my guess about my posture was confirmed. I really was curled up. The first conscious thoughts that came to mind, I really, really didn't like—but I couldn't see any other explanation. After making mental notes, I simply waited, silently praying over my own delirium.
Only after I came to, it was as if I began to see the world… no, not see—feel it, maybe? I don't know; it's hard to explain. Waves seemed to emanate from me. They had no color, but as they passed through space, they reflected different colored outlines within it. Here were some incomprehensible humanoids; here were structures; and that looked like some kind of devices. And the strange light-shows I sometimes "watched"—there's nothing to say about those at all.
The waves emanating from me traveled very far, and what was most interesting—I could control their frequency and range. That's how I found out that if I sent powerful waves too often, not only would I black out quickly, I'd also have time to catch how, from somewhere outside, a gag reflex would creep up on me mixed with severe dizziness and weakness.
Deciding not to do that again, I reduced those impulses to a minimum—just a couple meters' radius. But that was enough. Different, incomprehensible imprints of auras; unknown devices and structures. I couldn't understand or parse anything, but most of all I was worried about the aura I was inside. Vague, but so familiar. Like it was mine—and yet a little different.
Questions kept piling up, and there was nowhere to get answers. I could only keep studying what I "saw," nothing more. And after some time, I realized it was getting definitely cramped. Acting more on instinct, I tried to move a little—and then it started.
I don't know what was happening, but an echo of terrible pain came at me, and I myself began to be literally pushed somewhere. Not only did the sense of weight change in some unfamiliar way, it also became hard to breathe, as if. Spasms twisted my lungs, but that was still manageable.
And then there was the sensation of periodic squeezing. As if the walls kept shifting inward, and there was no exit anywhere. Like I didn't have enough impressions and sensations already, Fear got added on top. Reflexively pushing off with my legs, as if trying to break free—and oh, miracle, something is even working! I see light! I'd love to joke about "at the end of the tunnel," but I very clearly wasn't in the mood for jokes.
Bright light slashed my eyes; unpleasant cold struck my skin; and my ears exploded with a whole muffled cacophony of nasty sounds. Smells joined the sounds. Strange, indistinct—and right after them, it felt like someone lit a bonfire in my lungs, they burned so badly.
My "wave" vision instantly sharpened, filling the world around me with extra colors and emotions. Yes—emotions. When a wave hit this or that colored object, an echo returned to me carrying the imprint of the emotions the creature was experiencing. Thank… whoever the hell, because there were only three of those creatures, and joy dominated in all of them.
I try to show displeasure, but instead only a scream bursts from my throat. The baby's scream of a newborn child.
"No… this can't be. This is nonsense! Nonsense!!! This is just impossible!" Panic clamps down on me in steel arms. I don't understand anything. I can't do anything. And damn it, how awful this is…
But at the same time, the unpleasant sensations quickly fade into the background, and the panic gives way to hysteria just as quickly. Before I can really lose it, they quickly wipe me down and wrap me in something soft, and then hand me to someone. That third aura—the one they pulled me out of—radiated calm and protection, and in its emotions there was an indescribable cocktail of positive feelings.
Cracking my eyes open a little, with a blurry, fogged gaze I notice a beautiful woman about twenty-five. And that would be one thing—but SHE WAS RED. Light-red skin, with white pigments on her face forming a predatory pattern. Instead of hair—something long and strange, and from under her lips, in her smile, peeked fairly sharp teeth. The hysteria that was rising gets crushed by shock, which is cemented by her next action: she gently kisses the top of my head and presses me to her chest, softly whispering something. Her voice was soft, tender. As if by magic, I began to come to my senses. There were no thoughts. None at all. I didn't even notice how I simply slipped into sleep. Yeah. This was just a terrible dream.
***
Well, damn… the nonsense turned out to be quite material—and even almost pleasant. At least, I've been in this body for about eight days now, trying to fix my cognitive dissonance. Not only did I "reincarnate," the second blow to my psyche came from the world itself. The first hallucinations weren't hallucinations at all, and my "mom" really is a Togruta. A beautiful representative of one of the species from the Star Wars universe. And yet my father was nowhere to be seen—as if I didn't have one.
The third blow to my psyche followed right after the second. The oddly suspicious word "Je'daii" pushes me toward some not very pleasant thoughts, and what the locals do makes my mouth fall open and my eyes bug out in amazement. But at least the light-shows make sense now. Turns out, I was seeing Je'daii using the Force. Basically magic in plain sight. And most importantly, my parents… at least one of them, definitely has the Force, which means I too should, in theory, be able to pull off similar tricks. In fact, considering what I've seen and what I've done, I'm more than sure of it.
And now I, with eyes full of joy, suck down breast milk with one single thought: "What time period am I in?" That was the only question I cared about—because what world I'd been thrown into, I'd already understood, and I'd even been happy about it.
And it didn't bother me that I was an infant. Now I perfectly understand why people get their memory knocked out by existing at that age, but I'm ready to go through this path in any form and format, simply because I died. Died in my world. The headaches of the last days will stay with me forever, and so what I see around me can't possibly be a hallucination. And besides: I'm breathing, I'm feeling, I'm seeing and hearing the world around me. I'm happy like the simplest child with the woman gently feeding me and giving me a second chance. And it doesn't matter what the world around me is—even if it's delirium, because for the first time I've got hope for a truly happy life.
***
I celebrated too early. Oh, too early. Real "surprises" were waiting ahead. One of them was the local language, which was fairly difficult—but thank the Force, also flexible enough to build complex constructions. And on top of that, Mom teaches me the Togruta language separately. That so-called language was incomparably harder than Basic, because besides simple sounds made by the vocal cords, it included growls, squeaks, tongue-clicks against teeth—and all of it in one bottle. And you know what? I definitely liked that language! It amazed me with its beauty and depth, and the kind of sentences Mom sometimes produced—I could listen forever.
I'd sit there and watch carefully how her lips moved as she read fairy tales from books. Without exaggeration, a mesmerizing sight. And the way you can curse out your opponent—pure music.
***
"Well. Come on. Step. Another step. Thaaat's it!" Plopping into Mom's hands, I relax. Who would've thought learning to walk is such hard work? I never would've thought so in my life. And now here I am, learning to move all over again. Though, frankly, it's going so-so. On all fours—yeah, that I can do. On my feet… only with support.
Meanwhile, she turns me around and sets me on the ground again, then holds out her hands a couple centimeters away so I'll walk to them.
"What?! Again?"
"Well? Come on," she beckons me invitingly. "Come on," she calls softly in Togruta, her voice like velvet.
"Uuuh…" I groan mentally, but try to go.
Thwap!
So—no whining. No whining! Screw the pain; I'm small, but I'm a proud man! Yes. Meanwhile, they scoop me up into their arms and look into my eyes. Mom smiles, melting at the sight of my serious little mug, wiping away the tears that have welled up with her thumbs. What's wrong with me—I can keep myself together!
"Aww, my good boy. I can see you're serious. One more time?" And she sets me on the floor again, but holds me steady. Come on, Shade, I can do it. I can do it!!! Ste-e-e-p. Another ste-e-e-p…
***
"Shade!!!" Mom shouted, grabbing my hands. And me—what? Me—nothing! I'm just watching adults work with the Force and trying to copy them. Unfortunately, most of the time it comes out pretty badly. The first time, I knocked a chair into a wall. The second time, I started a fire. A third time hasn't happened yet. Mom doesn't let me out of her sight anymore, and at the slightest thing, she grabs me right up.
"Uh?" is all I answer, peering into her displeased eyes.
In response, a whole sentence of indignation and reproaches poured out at me. Unfortunately, I still have to learn the local language—and learn it again—not to mention actually speaking it, but I caught the gist: "You can't do that." The logical question pops up—why? What am I doing wrong?
Eh… too bad I can't ask those questions out loud. Not yet. And doing anything else is boring. No, really—am I supposed to play with a rattle with other kids? Though after I launched a rattle with the Force into the forehead of one nasty little type, they don't give me those toys anymore. Don't even know whether to be happy about that or not.
But there's a plus! Mom started paying more attention to me.