Darkness.
That was all Steven could see.
He blinked once, twice, again, yet nothing changed. Even with his eyelids shut, the blackness remained absolute. There was no light, no shadow, no gradient to speak of. No warmth or chill against his skin, no sense of air or pressure around him. He could feel his body move, but not the space it moved through.
When he tried to take a breath, his chest rose, but no air came. His lungs expanded and collapsed in an empty motion, a mechanical gesture without purpose. Panic began to stir in his chest, sharp and rising. The emptiness pressed against him, not with weight, but with absence, a silence so complete it screamed.
Then, all at once, a flash of light cut through the void.
Steven flinched, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. The darkness peeled away, retreating like ink dissolving in water, and in its place came color, soft at first, then blinding. Blue sky. Endless, perfect blue stretching in every direction, with no ground or horizon in sight.
He gasped, and this time, air filled his lungs. Cool and clean, it carried the faint scent of nothing at all. The pressure of an atmosphere returned, and the simple act of breathing felt like salvation.
"What the actual fuck is happening?" he shouted into the empty sky.
No echo came back. The sound just vanished, swallowed whole.
Steven looked down instinctively and froze. He wasn't standing, or sitting. He was hovering. Suspended in midair like some half-forgotten thought.
He stayed that way for a long time, though "long" had no meaning here. There was no sun to measure by, no heartbeat to mark seconds. Just him, and the endless blue, and the sound of his own confused breathing.
Right as he was about to scream again, another light appeared. It shimmered before him, bright but not blinding, like sunlight reflecting off a wave. From it stepped, or perhaps coalesced, a figure made entirely of radiance. Its shape refused to settle, flickering between outlines: tall, short, broad, slim. Male, female, neither. Every second it seemed to become something else.
When it spoke, its voice carried the weight of many, thousands of voices overlapping, harmonizing and clashing all at once.
"Steven Volkson," it said, "you are dead. You died before your time, and your soul has not yet lived a full life. Therefore, you will be granted a second chance."
Steven blinked. The words hit him like a punch, each one pulling his mind in a different direction. His panic, barely subdued, surged back with force.
"What the hell, no, seriously, what the hell? Who are you? What's happening to me?!"
The being seemed almost startled by his outburst. It hesitated, then sighed, an oddly human gesture for a creature of light, and smacked its own glowing forehead. The radiance around it dimmed and solidified, taking the familiar shape of a tall man with graying hair, a thin face, and a bowtie.
Steven stared. "…Bill Nye?"
"Yes," the figure said with a small, amused smile.
Steven's jaw dropped. "What, what is this? I was in, nothing, actual nothing, and now I'm floating in the world's bluest sky, and Bill Nye the fucking Science Guy is standing in front of me?! What kind of cosmic acid trip is this?"
The man chuckled. "No, I am not truly this 'Science Guy' you speak of. I simply chose a form you would find… trustworthy. You mortals are more comfortable talking to someone familiar. My true appearance tends to cause, ah, existential distress."
He snapped his fingers, and suddenly a wooden platform appeared beneath their feet. It swayed gently as though resting on invisible air currents. Another snap, and two oversized, plush armchairs appeared facing each other.
"Please," the being said, gesturing to the seat opposite him. "This will make things easier."
Steven sat down warily. The chair was absurdly comfortable, soft as a cloud, warm as a fireplace.
"So," the being continued, settling back into his own chair,"you probably have questions. I'll answer what I can."
"That's an understatement," Steven muttered.
"Where you are," the being said evenly, "is nowhere. This place exists only as a temporary construct to keep your mind anchored. Without form or sense, human consciousness tends to unravel. You are, in truth, in the plane of nonexistence."
Steven swallowed hard. "Plane of… nonexistence. Sure. Why not. Totally a normal thing to hear today."
The being ignored his sarcasm and went on. "As for what happened: you died in your world, in a car accident while driving to work in Houston, Texas. Your death was premature, not meant to occur when it did. Therefore, the balance permits a correction, you will be reborn elsewhere, with certain compensations."
Steven rubbed his face, trying to process it. He couldn't remember the crash, or anything about that day at all. His mind felt scrubbed clean, the details sanded off.
"I don't remember dying," he said quietly.
"You will not," the being replied. "We removed those memories. They serve no purpose now, and are… unpleasant."
Steven gave a shaky laugh. "That's one way to put it."
The being steepled his fingers. "You will be reborn into a parallel version of your own world, one diverged long before your time. Think of it as history but slightly different. You will awaken in due course, though not immediately. Consciousness will return only after your new body has matured. It would be, well, tedious and rather awkward to experience infancy again."
Steven blinked, then frowned. "So I just… wait? Until I'm old enough to think again?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes. You will live, grow, and when the time is right, you will remember."
The being paused, regarding him with something almost like curiosity. "This is your second chance, Steven Volkson. Make of it what you will."
Steven opened his mouth to speak, to demand more answers, to beg for clarity, but no words came. The air around them began to shimmer, the edges of the world folding inward.
"Wait, hold on, you can't just,"
The being snapped his fingers once more.
The chairs, the platform, the endless blue, all of it vanished into darkness.
Steven felt himself falling, though there was no sense of motion. His thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm, his last coherent one echoing faintly in the void:
What the hell did he mean, 'parallel world'?
Then, silence.
Welcome to my second attempt at bringing this story to life. The original was the very first piece of fiction I ever wrote, and since then, I've grown considerably as a writer. Rather than revisiting the old version, I decided it was better to start anew.
Many of the core story beats remain the same, but the early chapters have been reimagined with stronger writing, refined structure, and a more immersive tone. If you want to experience the story without spoilers, I suggest avoiding the original entirely, even its title reveals more than you might want to know.