The bright sun shined through my wooden window, I looked around the room, then I sat upon my bed satisfied and elated. 'I did it, I actually did it.' I always known I'd succeed, but I also doubted it too. "Transmigration,
the theory is that is only possible with the linkage of two similar people, but how does one establish a link, a tricky question indeed.
If one thinks about it logically, a link doesn't need to be conscious. For as long as similarities between two induvials exist, it can be considered a link, but then why isn't transmigration exceedingly common?
The answer is that the similarities mentioned aforehand must be impossibly strong.
Then I thought about it, what is the one thing that only happens once to somebody, an event with emotions and change so strong that it renders all previous emotions and physical changes meaningless?
Death! But not just any death will work for me, to complete my transmigration, I need the death of the soul with the life of the body and brain! Although, a question still remains, if I am to kill my soul in order to establish a link for transmigration, how the fuck do I transmigrate?
I'll be dead on the souluar level! Wait, is souluar a word? Well now it is, call me Shakespeare!
Assuming the brain and soul are separate entities, with the brain serving as a relay center from the body to the soul, I just need to almost, kill my soul.
So here went my interesting and hopefully not final experiment: Assuming the universe is infinite, so one exceedingly similar to me exists and is to carry out his/her part of said experiment, which is dying. Then I will drink aquacide, a unique poison that leaves the body and brain completely unharmed but manages to kill the target anyways, which I suspect to kill the soul, or at least damage it by a large margin.
Then, my target of transmigration, my unknowing partner in crime, manages to kill their soul (or damage it to the point of not being able to sustain their own body), which then the universe mistakes me for the victim, putting me in the victim's body, and possibly the victim in my body.
I know what you're thinking, betting it all on the fact that the origin of the universe would make a miscalculation isn't just woefully egotistical but also plain stupid.
And, you'd be right, but what choice did I have? My world had no magic, pathways, or whatever power system you could think of. I was shit out of luck.
Which of course, brings up the thought: What if the world I transmigrate into also doesn't have a power system?
Simple, I'll just transmigrate again, and again, and again, until I find something of myself. One may be out of luck, but one is never out of options.
"Brother, why are you screaming, it's six in the morning." 'I didn't see that thing approach me, must be stealth powers.'
"GREMLIN OF THE TWELVE SHADOWS, WHAT IS MY NAME?" I decreed "Stop Screaming!" My self-proclaimed sister screamed. 'heh, sister of this body, don't you know, breaking rules you try to enforce on others only creates anarchy, but I'll play along, for now.'
I played along "Okay, sister of mine, I'll be quieter, now play along too and answer my question: what is my name?" "What do mean, your name?" My sister said, her confusion evident. "I mean, my name!" I exclaimed, getting really tired of repeating the same sentence.
"Why do you want to know, I know this is a trick." My sister said with apprehension.
'A trick? Ohh, I see, the problem lies with this guy, he's untrustworthy and tricky, so she's apprehensive on doing anything he says without a clear reason. Alright, I have an understanding now.
"You see sister, I just wanted to see how bad my name sounds when spoken aloud." I joyfully said. 'How's that for reasoning! Completely and utterly flawless!'
"Ughhh, we don't have time for this, fine, your name is John Valentine, and I was supposed to get you for breakfast, but thanks to your incessant ramblings we are 15 minutes late!" My sister said with genuine anger laced into her childlike demeanor.
"Bullshit!" I exclaimed "There is no way we are 15 minutes late, I haven't been out of bed for 15 minutes. Also, my name isn't John anymore, It's Vanitas. I've decided to change it."
My sister dumbstruck, remarked "What why, whatever it doesn't matter, your musings will vanish by tomorrow anyways. Can we go no-" I interrupted "Yes we can my dear sister of mine."
'If we really are similar it should be here, my eyes drifted forward and across my bedroom, scanning for the eyewear of my wants, until my eyes stopped at a circular shiny piece of metal and glass, colored white with red accents, with a small red and white chain originating from its side. I picked the monocle between my thumb and middle finger and secured it on my left eye.'
"We can truly go now sister." I said with joy and anticipation. 'I'm excited for what this world shall bring.
So it is as they say: one small step for me, one giant leap for my future. With those thoughts in mind, I ventured forth beyond my crooked wooden doorframe into the unknown abyss of the fairly lit wooden hallway.
I would say it was creepy but it wasn't, sadly, so I spent the next 7 seconds walking through the dainty shack lesser beings such as my sister would call a house, but it gave insight, as in all those photos of good looking men and woman in ragged clothes hanging up on the wall in the hallway, seemingly displaying some sense of pride, although I don't see any pride in this shack.
Being a townie is typically not something to be proud of, but these people were worse, they are proud of always living in the same ever-expanding shack, nothing seems more pitiable really.
But as I drift through these halls I come to realize these people mask their despair with pride, simply because they feel that's all they can do with their situation. But they're wrong. No, it's better to say they're misguided, they have to realize in order to change their situation, they need to change their situation, it seems like an obvious statement, but people often forget it in their times of need.
Thoughts such as what they could ever do to fix this pop in their head, but they don't act on those thoughts.
It's like a party of conquerors confronted by an insurmountable wall, but instead of finding away around the wall, they just stare at it and wallow in their own depression.
But there's no need for worry, I shall fix them, I shall be their savior of dark times. Although, I must take it slow and steady.
Other peoples' emotions feel like fickle things only because you do not feel them. They're just like you in the end, and one must understand that notion to understand them.
It was only 7 seconds, but it felt like a millennia, I turned the corner to the kitchen while my sister went to the bathroom and set my eyes on what I presume to be my mother, when our family's dirty white hair and dull red eyes were reflected in my monocle, her small mouth slightly lifted at the corners.
I took a deep breath.' "Mother, I see what's behind that smile of yours, let me ask you this: did you smile because you saw me or did you smile because you knew that I was there."
"John, I-" my mother stumbled
"before you finish that thought." I interrupted "Note this, I also see something else behind that smile, I see something even you, do not feel. Do you want to know what it is? It's a world of possibilities.
Mother, I implore you, why do you think we're so poor? Is it because our alive family members lack induvial power?
Is it because we're in debt? Or is it because of some class imposed on us by the elite?
No matter your answer, note this: this situation is temporary, there is always solutions to problems, one only loses when they give up, and by the looks of it, you gave up a long time ago.
Though it's fine, for as long as me and my sister don't, we'll still have one foot in the game. So tell me mother, why do we have it so rough.?"
At that moment I noticed my mother's expression go from trembling to enraged "YOU THINK WE HAVE IT ROUGH!" My mother screamed, "YOU ARE SO FUCKING WELL OFF YOU INGRATEFUL BASTARD, AND ALTHOUGH WE DONT HAVE IT THE BEST, WE AT LEAST HAVE A HOME, WE AT LEAST HAVE FOOD TODAY, WE MIGHT NOT HAVE IT TOMORROW, BUT AT LEAST WE HAVE IT TODAY!
AND FOR FIXING SHIT DO YOU THINK YOU CAN FIX SHIT, YOU, YOU OF ALL PEOPLE, THE BEST MAN IN THE WORLD FAILED, WHAT FUCKING CHANCE DO YOU HAVE, OUR FAMILY HAS NEVER ONCE IN ITS HISTORY HAD AN AUTHORITY! So please! Don't try. Don't hurt yourself more than the world hurts you. Cause' being nice to yourself is the one freedom we have."
Her expression softened and her voice regained the delicate frame you would expect from a woman of her stature, as she confessed "I'm sorry John, I didn't mean to lash out at you there, it's just that your old man's funds are running dry and getting a job is near impossible, since all jobs require training and training costs more money than we have.
You're dreaming, and I should respect that, I dreamed once too. It's a inevitable thing to dream and a cruel one at that, I should go my room, I have financial problems to reconcile with. Your breakfast is on the table, make sure to savor every last bite because it might be our last supper."
Her figure left the kitchen and walked down the hallway, ever so slightly blurring in my left eye as the time time passed on, it took me a while to realize it, but my monocle was wet.
I took my monocle of my left eye and dried it with a cloth from the kitchen before placing it back on my left eye in a snug slightly tilted position and sighed,
'ahh, it's much worse than I thought, I assumed she stopped trying to fix things because her family in the past was against it, so that it was rooted in her subconscious that it was infeasible, but I was wrong.
She did try, she tried by putting her faith in another, a certain someone who she felt unbreakable, undefeatable, and untouchable, someone so strong and daunting that he could carry the world on his shoulders and protect her, but when he fell, the weight of that world landed upon her and she couldn't bear to fight that weight, so it crushed her, and now she moves with the world instead of against it. Forever enslaved to its vices.
For the second time today, I was proven wrong, I can't fix her, I can't fix that. It's a problem only she can fix. All the light in the world can't help her, for she would believe it as delusion.
Even if I did make it to the top, she wouldn't believe I did, she'd beg me leave that podium, because all she'd think is "when is he going to get assassinated, please leave beforehand." She'll take it as a cruel joke of fate, simply because of the principal guiding her depressed mentality: if my husband can't do it, no one can.'
my sister left the bathroom "Hey, what was that all about? Joh-" I gave her a calm yet stern look, she rolled her eyes at me and relinquished "Vanitas, did you make her cry, why did you that, what are you trying to accomplish this time, I don't see any gains."
I spoke with my usual ego, but only this time with a bit of humbleness as well "I thought I understood this family, turns out for the first time in my recorded memory, I was wrong.
Our conversation made her cry because it was filled with emotions, the very same emotions that drive her to act the way she does and despair the way she does.
We spoke about the emotions that have driven your life ever since dad left this world, and I think I learned more about her in these 5 minutes then I would have with 20 years of interaction.
It was a rude awakening."