Dima floated in a haze, the battlefield slowly fading from his mind.
Memories of his past life replayed in a disjointed sequence: his childhood, his grandparents, the friends he made, the comrades he lost.
Just as his thought streamed over, all that numbing pain surged back. It wasn't the numbing coldness of death he had expected. Instead, it was a searing, sharp agony that felt like countless needles piercing his skin.
His vision blurred, then turned crimson. He thought this was the final agony of dying from the mortar blast. The darkness gradually gave way to a blinding light.
His vision, still hazy, revealed unfamiliar faces peering down at him. He couldn't believe his senses—had he been rescued? Relief and confusion battled within him, but as the faces came closer, he realized something was profoundly different. His senses felt something entirely different, something indistinct and unfamiliar as if they were experiencing everything anew.
His body felt weak, and uncontrollable. Unknowingly, panic surged through him, and by reflex he screamed, but all that came out was a helpless cry. The faces above him exchanged words in a language he couldn't understand.
Suddenly a face leaned in closer. It's a face of an elderly woman, her face lined with years of wisdom and kindness. Her eyes held a depth that seemed to peer into his very soul. Dima's mind raced—he had never seen facial features like hers in any of the people he had encountered on his life, not in every region of earth he had ever been deployed to. This was something entirely different.
The realization hit him like a tidal wave: he was no longer in his own body. He was a newborn baby!
His mind struggled to process this impossibility, but exhaustion quickly overpowered him, and he felt himself being gently handed to another blurry figure, like a woman seemingly lying in bed. He felt warmth and softness enveloping him like the comfort of a good bed with a warm blanket. The figure's heartbeat was a steady, soothing rhythm against his tiny body.
As his eyelids grew heavy, he realized that this figure had given birth to him, or rather, rebirth. His new mother murmured softly to him, her words incomprehensible but filled with an undeniable tenderness. The strangeness of the situation weighed on him: the unfamiliar language, the strange faces, and the bewildering situation all faded into the background as he couldn't fight the overwhelming need for sleep.
In the safety of her arms, his fear and confusion melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace. His new life had begun, and as he drifted into a deep, restful sleep, he knew that the journey ahead would be unlike anything he had ever experienced before.
For now, he could rest. The battlefield and the horrors of his past life were behind him. He was reborn, given a second chance in a world he didn't yet understand. As he drifted off, he wondered what kind of life awaited him in this new, mysterious place.
- - - - -
His consciousness surfaced slowly, dragged up from the depths of a deep sleep. The first thing he noticed was the acrid stench of poo, making his tiny nose scrunch in distaste. The second thing was the sound—a chorus of babies crying, creating a cacophony of need and innocence. He blinked, his vision still blurry, and took in his surroundings. The realization hit him—this was a nursery facility, a far cry from the warmth of the mother's embrace he had experienced moments ago.
Soon, the same elderly woman from before entered the room, accompanied by several younger women. They are the caregivers. They moved with practiced efficiency, tending to the newborn, feeding, cleaning, and soothing them. He watched with curiosity and a hint of confusion.
'What kind of society separates newborn from their families?'
The elderly woman approached him with a worried and confused face, leaning in to take a closer look. "This kid's a bit weird," she muttered in a strange language, her eyes narrowing in thought. She picked him up gently, giving him a subtle pat, but his face remained unfazed.
Then, her expression changed, as if she was looking directly into his soul. Her eyes widened slightly, and she continued to examine him. Yet, she found nothing. Seeing as there's no problem with the child, she continues to check on the next baby. But, that's when she realized.
'Wait a second... Nothing?!'
She rushed back to the weird child, picked him up, and this time there's a faint stream of bright yellowish color emanating from her exposed skin as she looks the child with a deeper intensity. Normally, a newborn would have a faint stream of the so-called soul energy, each unique in its own properties and intensity. But this child had nothing? The infant lets out a small giggle by reflex, unable to properly control his body.
"You're laughing now, huh?" the elderly woman said, a hint of amusement in her voice.
A younger caregiver approached, noticing the elder's prolonged attention on him. "Is there something wrong with the child?" she asked.
The elderly woman shook her head.
"Nothing. I've checked this row, and you should finish yours quickly. There are many more to check. With this amount of newborns even from neighboring village, we can't afford to slack off."
Days turned into weeks. After a month, he managed to roll over. Half a month later, he began to control his speech, though it was mostly mumbles as he struggled to mimic the language around him. In another two months, his vision cleared, and he could see the wooden roof framing of the facility. The roof too was brown, seemingly made of wood, though he wasn't entirely sure of the material because it lacks the texture. He observed the baby beds arranged in rows, each with a small space between them and a lid that could be closed, resembling a cage.
For each successful milestone in regaining control over his body, his expression was one of determination. He was getting used to the baby routine: waking up, morning diaper changes, eating, playing with toys, afternoon meals, naps, evening diaper changes, eating again, listening to the song sung by the caregivers, and visiting time before sleep. From several visiting time, he discovered that he was living in a medium-sized tribe. The people wore attire made of animal hide, and the community seemed to consist of more than fifty people.
The language they used was vastly different from English, with its own grammatical rules. He hadn't deciphered it yet, but he frequently heard certain words: 'maan' for eat, 'wawa' for baby, 'umwa' for food, and 'toki' for toilet time.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. He continued to observe and learn, determined to understand this new world he had been reborn into. He watched the caregivers and the visiting tribe members, noting their interactions and trying to piece together the language and customs.
Despite the strange and unfamiliar circumstances, his spirit remained unbroken. He knew that he had been given a second chance, a new life in an entirely different world. And with each passing day, he grew more determined to make the most of it.