I bowed before him, steadying myself onto one knee. I was surrounded by the blinding whiteness that I’ve only seen seven other times and will rarely ever get to. I felt selectively happy to be, yet again, restarting my life. It was a good thing human brains only use ten percent of their capacity. The other ninety is used to store past lives; each life takes up ten percent. For example, I only have thirty percent left which means I’ve lived seven lives. Whenever you start a new life, all past memories are stored away. Whenever you go back to Introduction, your memories from each past life come back.

Introduction is the area between Heaven and Earth. To get to heaven, one must fill all 100 percent of their mind. That’s how they decide if you’ve really lived a fulfilled “life”. I’m getting closer and I’m truthfully keyed up for it. Everyone is when they near Brink Point. That’s when you finally get the sense of “I really did it” and you get to move on to Heaven.

“Male or female?” The Addresser in front of me spoke. Addressers have already spent a good deal of time in Heaven and when they want to help those who want to move on, they assign us a new life. “31 male, 56 female.”

“Twins or triplets?” I ask in reply, my blood humming with anticipation. It wasn’t just any old anticipation; I get to start a new life. You really don’t know how exciting this is for one until you really experience it yourself.

“None.” He shakes his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his half smile.

“Strange day,” I muttered under my breath. I was going through the traditional Choosing. Before you go out and live another life, you get to see your fate. Of course, you won’t remember it but it’s always nice to see how long you’ll live. In my past life, I had a sad death. I only lived until I was 17, then I died. I spent it as a male, a stupid one. So it’s probably pretty easy to figure out my death.

Dying is not something fun to go through. It’s so perfectly planned from the very day you were born. I like to think the purpose of life is to die. All your life you get ready to die. And you get ready. And you get ready. And one tweak in the system can unleash a load of trouble onto your death. But that’s the lesson learned in your life.
“Male,” I say. Let’s try this again.

“Last country served in?”

I had to think for a bit, trying to find the right memory. “It was somewhere in the United Kingdom,” I say slowly.

“You get America,” he quickly says.

“Which state?” I ask, looking up.

I heard a ding and he said involuntarily, just like a robot, “72 males, 69 females. Six pairs of twins.”

“No twins,” I wag my head from right to left quickly. I shut my eyes, breathing out for a second before opening my mouth and suggesting, “May I live in California?” He gives a curt nod and presses his thumb to my forehead. My eyes still closed, I wait for my life to flash before my eyes.
Bright lights.
Laughter.
Sobs.
Playing catch.
More bright lights.
An F on a test.
A break up.
Playing baseball.
Even more bright lights.
Another break up.
A drug problem.
Rehabilitation.
Baseball.
Rehabilitation again.
Sex before marriage.
Getting a girl pregnant.
Marrying her.
Bright lights.
Baseball.
Divorcing her.
Marrying her again.
Having another child with her.
Baseball.
Living with her until I was 96.

Dying.

I smiled and said, “sure.” I thought it’d be an interesting life, I’d lived many normal lives and I think it’s time I take a few chances now. He presses his other thumb to my forehead, engraving my life. But as he’s wiping my memory so I can be born, his thumb slips as he coughs. I gasp inward, unable to breathe until he regains his pose and continues the memory wipe. Somehow, in the very back of my mind, something told me that defect would have an impact on my coming life. Whether I knew or not I would remember anything or I’d be as dumb as humans are, I pushed it away.

So then, the bright light around me changed into the lights of the hospital and my mind went blank. Except for one, small percent.