Chapter One.

  Episode 1. — Why is everything so gargantuan?

  The imagery that had seemed so palpable only moments ago evaporated with startling swiftness.

  My self-awareness as an individual had been far more profound while I resided there… in that "darkness."

  For some reason, I am still drawn to it. It sucks me in like the nozzle of a vacuum cleaner.

  Have I become a speck of dust? That’s impossible… since when do dust motes possess consciousness?

  And I am certainly not resuscitated.

  Everything that was happening to my body, some sort of— —

  Wait… how much time has elapsed?

  These ruminations were crushed by a sudden paroxysm of dread.

  Not the kind of fear that makes your heart hammer before surgery, nor the kind when you realize you are dying.

  This was a primal, animalistic terror.

  The kind you experience when you lack any grasp of "what you are," "where you are," or "why you are."

  There is a constant echo and this caustic noise in my ears.

  It’s as if I’ve been shoved inside a colossal bell and someone has begun to strike it.

  How deafening the world around me has suddenly become…

  Initially, I couldn't discern much of anything… the light seared my eyes.

  I felt like an ant caught under a neighborhood brat’s magnifying glass in the height of summer.

  ** an insolent palm delivers a treacherous slap to my most vulnerable spot **

  I was hit?!

  I was hit!

  I attempted to protest. To scream… but only a pathetic squeak emerged.

  Dammit!

  — *******, ***! — a muffled voice echoed, as if through water.

  — *** *****… *** ***, — and these words disintegrated entirely into indistinct syllables.

  Huh?

  W-what?

  Repeat that, please! I didn't catch a thing!

  And anyway, who are you?

  I wished I could terminate this, but I was powerless.

  Just as I couldn't cease dwelling on this state.

  Well, I opened my eyes… or rather, I was assisted in opening them.

  And, damn it all to hell, everything turned out to be as horrific as I could have possibly imagined.

  The surrounding image was monochromatic… a blurred, desecrated version of my former vision.

  But that isn't the primary issue… the most critical point is that I perfectly comprehend the source of this "condition."

  And now, only one thing remains to be verified — movement.

  An attempt to rise… and utter failure.

  My hands would not obey.

  Well, more accurately, they obeyed… but like drunken, blind snails, slower than usual!

  I tried to exert my mind and issue one lucid command to my limbs: "Wave!"

  Nothing happened.

  …

  Once more: "Wave!"

  I missed and smacked myself in the face.

  These are not my hands.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  No, wait… they are mine. They’re just… what?!

  Why are they so minuscule?!

  Pink?

  Dammit!

  I stared at these five little sausages, so plump… why are they so small?! Why are they so sluggish?!

  While I was attempting to regain control over even rudimentary movements, a massive blotch began to appear in the field of my blurred, black-and-white world!

  And it grew larger and larger!

  The blotch quickly transformed into something strongly resembling a face.

  Female?

  Yes, female.

  Then it dawned on me.

  That this wasn't merely a comatose dream, nor some idiotic prank by an anesthesiologist.

  Oh, I wish it had been one of those.

  I spent the following seconds in a state of panic.

  A good, thick, visceral panic.

  My heart (so tiny!) was racing.

  My breathing seemed to have forgotten how to decelerate.

  Somewhere in the distance, a voice was heard — so pleasant.

  Not that cacophony that was driving me mad.

  A tender female voice.

  Unfamiliar, yet it radiated comfort.

  So young, My God… who is this child?

  Stop.

  No-no-no!

  It can't be!

  But I feel so tranquil… damn hormones!

  Suddenly, I felt melancholy; for some reason, my body began to sob.

  Damnable emotional traps!

  — ****! ***… *** * *** ********, — and again, those bizarre phonetic artifacts.

  — ***, — here the voice sounded more cheerful, yet equally unintelligible.

  — **… **? ****! — sounds like a male… quite young.

  Good grief, of course… I still have amniotic fluid in my middle ear.

  I could at least have understood more clearly whose voice that was… shit!

  This means I’m… oh no! No!

  I am trapped, absolutely trapped.

  I’ve been snatched and stuffed into an infant’s body.

  With all these stages, crises, and necessities.

  Take me away.

  Somebody.

  Oh, look — a finger! How enormous!

  ** grabs the finger **

  I am profoundly ashamed.

  Of myself?

  Of this body!

  I am 74 years old!

  Who at my age is going to grab— —

  ** grabs a larger finger, looks male **

  Dammit…

  For some reason, I want to latch onto the first finger more than anything…

  What the hell is going on here?!

  Oh! That same finger!

  ** grabs the finger that is half the size **

  Mother?

  No. She isn't "my" mother. Certainly not the one I remember.

  My mother died over 60 years ago.

  She wasn't this young when I came into the world.

  But… it seems she is the mother of "this" body.

  Why did I decide that?

  It’s perfectly logical. This body "knew" her.

  My tiny (damn it!) heart slowed its rhythm — tranquility.

  My breathing leveled out — tranquility.

  For an infant, tranquility is the marker that the mother is near.

  And her scent — it’s the most potent of everyone present.

  I doubt this body would recognize the scent of a stranger with such ease.

  But that sensation still haunts me… as if I am being watched?

  What did I call it?

  A "wolfish gaze"?

  Nonsense.

  There is something far more interesting before my eyes, and far less mysterious (which is to say, safer!).

  And here she is — the mother.

  Unfamiliar, but apparently my own.

  And here I am — Siana Sha’Tyes.

  74 years old. A brilliant physician who managed to create a cure for every disease in the world.

  I saved billions… and died of a blood clot like a drunkard.

  And now — an infant!

  Dammit, it couldn't be any better.

  //— Woof, little lamb //

  What the… ?

  My body began to sob again.

  Even as an old woman, I would have sobbed at that.

  A voice. I heard a voice.

  Not the parents’. Not the nurse’s…

  Another one.

  I just imagined it, right?

  I physically cannot hear anyone that clearly… my hearing isn't fully formed, my ears are clogged with amniotic fluid.

  I’m losing my mind.

  I just imagined it.

  Right?

  It’s all those damn hormones.

  Give me that soothing finger.

  Oh, the big finger again!

  Ugh!