"Do I really have to become a bald vegan to get to heaven...?"
As soon as he asked himself this question, he began shaking his head and reasoning: "No, that doesn't make sense. Every animal has to eat something to survive. Even plants root themselves into the ground to absorb nutrients and grow, reaching for the sun. And although these Buddhists might not eat meat, plants are life too."
Having moved past the initial crisis about what he had become, the only thing left for the man—or the infant—was to ponder what purpose might have led him to a new life and to closely observe the world around him.
"Well, it seems like a modern hospital, and that's good. These doors look big, but maybe I'm a premature baby and just small. That would also explain the incubator..."
The thought of being a premature baby wasn't a comforting one, but since he wasn't experiencing any trouble breathing or other issues besides difficulty with movement, it wasn't overly alarming either.
With nothing else he could do, Bill spent his remaining waking hours reflecting on his life, especially about his wife, whom he hoped to meet again in heaven. One of the main reasons he continued to live a righteous life after her passing was his belief that he needed to do good to see her again.
"Maybe this is just another test. The Lord works in mysterious ways. Darling, I promise you, I'll try my best and make you proud of me.He repeated these thoughts to himself, though deep down he wondered if he would see her again. After all, if he was reincarnated, perhaps she was too.
Thinking a bit more about himself and his past life, Bill fell asleep again.
Upon waking up, Bill once more pondered how long he had been there. The room he was kept in had no windows, and although it felt like a significant amount of time had passed, he knew that solitary confinement could play tricks on his mind. One way he tried to measure time, though it was not fully satisfying, was by the fact that he could now hold his head up to some extent. He still couldn't roll over, but he knew that babies could typically hold their heads up by around a month old, giving him some sense of time.
During this period, he was not left unattended. A woman, clearly dressed as a nurse, frequently came by to feed him and change his diaper. For an elderly person mentally, the diaper changing was discomforting, but he understood that in matters of life and death, "modesty" was just a word.
He didn't understand the language the woman spoke when she came. It seemed to him like it might be Japanese, but aside from a limited knowledge of Spanish, Bill didn't speak any language other than English.
One significant discovery was that he was being bottle-fed. This might have seemed trivial, yet formula, if that's what it was, didn't become popular until the 1960s. This, along with the medical equipment in the room, made him relatively reassured, knowing he was born in modern times. Perhaps he had even been born right after his death.
Before he could continue this train of thought, the door opened, and the familiar nurse entered. Seeing her, Bill gave a wide, toothless grin.
People love smiling babies, and perhaps due to his physical age, physical contact with another person was incredibly comforting. When he first noticed the woman, she simply stroked his arms, legs, and belly, which was almost intoxicating.
Recently, she began picking him up, which was incredibly soothing. They never left the room, which caused him some anxiety, but not enough to panic. He was fed and kept clean, and any speculation about a medical condition would only make things worse.
"************* B****m ****************************************?"
He thought he heard a word in the nurse's sentence but wasn't sure, so Bill just continued smiling, slightly shaking his head from side to side.
After checking his diaper and feeding him, the nurse, to Bill's gratitude, picked him up and began walking back and forth across the room.
At least, that's how it felt to him.
Reaching the far end of the room, where Bill could barely see due to his limited mobility, the nurse placed him in a new crib.
The crib resembled an old incubator except it had an open top and seemingly wheels, because once he was settled in, the nurse finally wheeled him out of the room.
"There you go, finally," Bill thought.
As they rolled down the corridor, Bill kept his eyes wide open to take everything in. To his relief, the hospital did seem more or less modern. The corridor lights were on, and they weren't as bright as the ones he woke up to in this new life.
They even passed other rooms with machines similar to the ones he knew. Although he clearly wasn't in a neonatal ward, it looked like some kind of intensive care unit. One of the most surprising things was that, even though the nurse clearly didn't speak English, the doors indeed had Arabic numerals and English letters.