Chương 1: Born Again.jpg
Humans, huh? Never truly knowing, never quite predicting what awaits them.
A person's fate, of course, depends on their own efforts, but one must also consider the course of history.
Yet Smith could never have foreseen that amid the grand narrative of history, something as absurd as time travel could barge in.
For most of his 35 years, Smith's life had been as normal and scientifically explicable as anyone else's. Born to a pair of doctors, he came into the world in a perfectly ordinary, scientifically understood manner. He went to school just like any other child.
School was... well, just school. He mastered every subject taught in school and effortlessly absorbed knowledge that wasn't.
He breezed through elementary, middle, and high school, went to university, then graduate school, then a Ph.D. program. By the time he was nearly 30, he achieved his dream of becoming a scientist.
Smith, however, never referred to himself as a scientist. He preferred to introduce himself as an engineer, which was fair enough because his daily work involved machines.
Just... not ordinary machines.
Smith worked on a tokamak—a device capable of controlled nuclear fusion, harnessing immense power to produce energy for constructive purposes.
Like electricity generation.
A project like this is, of course, cutting-edge. The government wouldn't have assigned Smith, a freshly minted Ph.D., to such a team without reason. He worked alongside the crème de la crème of the scientific community, and he loved every moment of it. This wasn't just work; it was his passion, doubling his joy.
Though Smith's work was avant-garde, his personal life was traditional. From childhood to adulthood, he had been in only one relationship—with a fellow academic overachiever, as one might expect. Whether by fate or serendipity, they attended the same schools from elementary to their Ph.D. years. After graduation, they worked in the same lab, and naturally, their years-long relationship culminated in marriage.
Her name? School. Yes, it's exactly as the fifth paragraph suggests.
At 35, Smith had it all—a loving wife, two adorable children, a promising career, and a content life. If happiness were to be defined, Smith's life would undoubtedly fit the bill.
But people, as it turns out, can never truly predict when fortune knocks. When you're not happy, happiness might occasionally tap on your door. But when you're already happy, the visitor is rarely good news.
It was an ordinary day in the lab for Smith and School, yet today, their hearts brimmed with excitement.
It was a big day.
Long story short: if today's experiment succeeded, their tokamak device would be ready for commercial use. Smith had the honor of pressing the start button.
This was history in the making, and Smith couldn't contain his excitement. With a trembling hand and a heart bursting with anticipation, he pressed the button.
At that exact moment, fate took a sharp, unexpected turn.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared outside the lab. Inside, arcs of electricity crackled and danced. Sparks flew everywhere.
Even a layperson could sense something was wrong. Smith, well-versed in high-energy physics, reacted instinctively. He bolted for the exit, but not before glancing toward School—a fleeting look that, unbeknownst to him, would be his last.
A blinding arc of electricity struck Smith.
And then...
Everything returned to normal.
At least, it seemed normal. Except Smith was gone.
Not a trace of him remained. Not even ashes.
Where did Smith go?
He didn't know.
The last image he saw before the arc struck lingered in his mind, replaying endlessly as though frozen in time. He drifted between clarity and confusion, with confusion reigning. Each moment of lucidity brought a desperate attempt to open his eyes, but all he saw was endless darkness—a void as though he'd fallen into nothingness.
Whenever he tried to move, overwhelming fatigue would drag him back into the abyss.
This cycle repeated for an indeterminate length of time. When clarity finally won out, Smith detected a faint sound—soft yet rhythmic, like distant war drums: thump-thump, thump-thump.
It wasn't drums, though. It was gentle and full of life.
A heartbeat.
"Holy crap, I'm alive?!" Smith cursed with joy. He wasn't prone to profanity, but under the circumstances, nothing else felt adequate.
After confirming his survival, the next question arose:
"Where the hell am I?"
He tried to open his eyes but felt something obscuring them. Instinctively, he moved to rub them, only to find his hands restricted, as though encased in a bag.
Panic set in.
"Crap! Have I been kidnapped?!"
The situation made no sense. Moments ago, he'd been in a high-energy physics lab. An accident, injury, or even death would be plausible. But kidnapping? That was ridiculous!
Regaining his composure, Smith reasoned that science could explain his predicament. Observation was key.
Though he couldn't see, his other senses told him this was no ordinary situation. Accompanying the heartbeat were faint gurgling sounds, like liquid flowing through pipes, and other unidentifiable noises.
"Am I... in a hospital?" Smith mused. It was a reasonable hypothesis. A lab accident landing him in a hospital wasn't far-fetched.
But something didn't feel right.
Smith had spent countless hours in hospitals due to his parents' professions. He'd seen every medical device imaginable, and none matched what he was experiencing.
Suddenly, a strange noise broke the stillness—a sound like a water balloon bursting. A moment later, Smith felt an intense pressure engulf him.
He was about to lose his mind.
Then he heard a voice.
"…the water's broken…"
"Water? What water?!"
Combining this with earlier clues, Smith reached a shocking conclusion:
"Holy crap, am I not born yet?!"
It defied logic. Smith was 35, a father of two. How could he not be born?!
Yet as more sounds filtered in, his doubts grew. A woman's anguished scream rang out, followed by muffled words:
"…labor pains…"
"…contractions…"
Smith's mind went blank.
In the distance, a Victorian-era delivery room bustled with activity…
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