Chapter 2: Adjusting to a Simpler Life
Max blinked, trying to understand what was happening as the frantic woman continued to fuss over him. This couldn't be real. Had that truck accident done more than just injure him?
Was this some bizarre dream he was having while dying?
The woman held his chubby new cheeks, speaking softly. "There, there, my sweet Alexander. You're safe now; you gave your mother such a terrible fright."
Her rough hands smelled of earth, smoke, and herbs. Max pulled back a little, overwhelmed by the strange smells. Up close, he could see the deep lines and rough texture of her skin, showing years of hard work.
Okay, either this was a next-level immersive VR game, or Max had actually been reborn into some kind of old-fashioned world.
"B-but I'm not...Alexander?" he managed to say in his new high-pitched voice. The words felt strange in his mouth.
The woman's face froze, her eyebrows furrowing above warm brown eyes. "What's that, child? Are you feeling ill again?" She leaned closer, looking worried.
Max tried again, more firmly this time. "I'm not Alexander."
The woman, Marjorie, went pale and pulled Max closer to her thin frame. "Hush now, you'll only upset yourself." She stroked his messy hair. "You know your curious ramblings always worry your mother."
As she kept fussing over him, Max could only stare in confusion. What was happening? Who was this woman? And why did he feel like this strange new world was very real?
His small shoulders shook as he fought against the rising tide of questions and fear. One thing was becoming clear - the boring cubicle life he used to know was gone. This was his new reality, as bizarre and scary as it seemed.
All he had now was this woman who said she was his mother. As strange as her care felt to him, Max knew he needed to hold onto her. In this confusing, new world, she was the only thing that made sense.
Max let Marjorie hold him, breathing in her earthy, unfamiliar smell. Though her thin arms felt odd around his new small body, she was the only comfort he had in this strange place.
He looked up at her tired face. The lines around her eyes and mouth were deeper in the low light, showing her worry and exhaustion. But there was also kindness in her eyes.
"My poor sweet boy," she said softly, brushing his hair from his eyes. "You must have had another bad dream. Scaring yourself again with those wild imaginations."
Bad dreams? Max wanted to tell her that this strange reality was no dream. Marjorie's rough dress scratched his cheek, and the smells of smoke and damp earth filled his nose - it all felt very real.
But he couldn't find the words as he looked around the poor village. Simple thatched huts were close together. Thin, tired people in ragged clothes moved around like ghosts, bent from hard lives. The air smelled of animals and wood smoke. Max shivered, his thin shirt doing little to keep him warm against the damp chill. How could a dream create such a miserable reality?
A rumbling from his stomach broke his thoughts. Marjorie chuckled softly and pulled away, holding him at arm's length.
"Hungry again, are we?" She teased. "With that grumbling belly, you'd think I've been starving you instead of sneaking you half the village's food!"
Without waiting for Max's response, she took his small hand and led him towards one of the huts.
"Come on then, before that belly makes more noise than the priest! Though there's barely a bowl of food left after those thieves from Rhenpuddle came last week..."
Her voice trailed off into a bitter mutter. Max's stomach growled again, making him realize how long it had been since he last ate. Or rather, since this new body had eaten. The thought made him feel dizzy and confused.
This was no game or dream. He had been put into a completely new physical form - one with human needs and weaknesses.
The realization made Max's knees feel weak as a flood of worries threatened to overwhelm him. Who was he now? What was this new reality? And most troublingly - if he couldn't rely on his old body as his identity, then what defined him now?
Marjorie's firm grip on his wrist kept Max from collapsing in shock. He stumbled after her, mouth open as he tried to understand his new life.
But one thing was clear - if he wanted to stay sane, he needed to stop overthinking his situation. Asking Marjorie deep questions wasn't going to help right now.
No, for now Max had to accept whatever new realities awaited him. He pushed down his questions and took one last look at the shadowed huts, then followed Marjorie. Maybe a full stomach would help him focus on the present, away from the worries that threatened his sanity.
Because Max knew from his previous life to survive, it was that he needed to stay grounded to survive.
Marjorie led him to a small hut that was their home. Inside, it was dimly lit by a small fire. The walls were made of rough wood, and there were simple handmade items scattered around. It was a far cry from the modern apartment he once lived in.
She sat him down at a small table and brought over a bowl of thin soup. "Here you go, Alexander. Eat up."
Max stared at the soup, feeling a pang of homesickness for the fast food and instant meals of his old life. But his stomach growled again, and he picked up the wooden spoon with his small, unfamiliar hand.
The soup was bland and watery, but he ate it hungrily. As he ate, he looked around the hut, trying to get used to his new surroundings. Marjorie watched him with a sad smile, her eyes full of worry and love.
When he finished, she took the bowl and placed it in a corner. "Feeling better now?" she asked gently.
Max nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The food had helped calm his nerves a little, but he was still overwhelmed by everything that had happened.
"Good," she said, stroking his hair again. "You should rest now. You've had a long day."
Max didn't argue. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Marjorie led him to a small bed made of straw and old blankets. He lay down, feeling the rough material against his skin.
As he closed his eyes, he tried to make sense of everything. He was no longer Max, the cubicle worker. He was Alexander, a young boy in a medieval village. It was a strange, scary thought, but he had no choice but to accept it.
For now, he needed to survive in this new world. He would have to figure out the rest later. As he drifted off to sleep, he could hear Marjorie singing a soft, soothing song. It was unfamiliar, but it was comforting. For the first time since he arrived in this strange place, Max felt a small sense of peace.
The next morning, Max woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside the hut. Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the walls, casting a warm glow on the room. He sat up, feeling a little more rested but still confused.
Marjorie was already up, tending to a pot over the fire. She looked over and smiled when she saw him awake. "Good morning, Alexander. Did you sleep well?"
Max nodded, not trusting his voice yet. He got out of bed and walked over to her. The floor was cold under his bare feet, but he ignored it.
"Here, have some breakfast," Marjorie said, handing him a small piece of bread. "We have a lot to do today."
Max took the bread and ate it slowly. It was stale and hard, but it filled his stomach. As he ate, Marjorie explained their tasks for the day. They needed to gather firewood, fetch water from the stream, and tend to the small garden behind their hut.
It was a far cry from his old life of data entry and video games, but Max knew he had no choice. He followed Marjorie outside, ready to face whatever challenges this new world threw at him.
As they worked, Max tried to learn as much as he could about his new surroundings. The village was small, with only a few dozen huts. Most of the people were poor and hardworking, their faces lined with hardship. But there was also a sense of community and cooperation that was comforting.
Max found himself slowly adjusting to his new life. It was hard work, but it was also fulfilling in a way his old job had never been. He felt a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day, knowing he had helped provide for himself and Marjorie.
As the days passed, Max started to feel more at home in his new body and new life. He still had moments of confusion and homesickness, but they were becoming less frequent. He was starting to accept his new reality and make the best of it.
He didn't know why he had been given this second chance, but he was determined to make it count. He would survive in this new world and find a way to thrive.