Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Accept That I’d Be Dead by Dinner
If you’ve never died before, I’d like to recommend against making it a daily hobby.
I’m not saying it’s unpleasant. I’m saying it gets repetitive.
Every morning, without fail, I wake up to the same booming announcement.
“Good morning, soldier. Probability of survival: 0%.”
You’d think after the first few hundred thousand times they’d at least update the voice.
Nope.
Same voice.
Same battlefield.
Same muddy boots.
Same guy named Steve who insists, every single morning, “I’ve got a good feeling about today.”
Steve has never survived breakfast.
The Worst Alarm Clock Ever
Normal people wake up and wonder:
“Should I make coffee?”
I wake up wondering:
“How many explosions before lunch?”
Sometimes dragons are attacking.
Sometimes it’s medieval England.
Sometimes it’s lasers.
One Tuesday I fought angry accountants armed with sharpened calculators.
I don’t ask questions anymore.
Creative Ways I’ve Died
You’d think after infinite attempts I’d become some legendary warrior.
No.
I’ve died by:
- Falling off a horse that wasn’t mine.
- Being hit by my own catapult.
- Tripping over a decorative rock.
- Mistaking soup for acid.
- Winning the battle… then celebrating underneath a collapsing castle.
- Being congratulated so hard my spine gave up.
At this point Death greets me like a regular customer.
“Back again?”
“Yep.”
“Usual?”
“Apparently.”
Respawning Is Terrible Customer Service
Every death resets everything.
Except me.
I remember all of it.
Steve still thinks today is different.
The general still gives the same speech.
The enemy still dramatically removes their helmet before charging.
I’ve started correcting everyone’s dialogue.
General:
“We fight for—”
Me:
“Honor. Justice. Freedom. Then I explode. We know.”
He hates that.
The Twenty-Four-Hour Rule
There’s one certainty.
I always die within twenty-four hours.
Not twenty-three.
Not twenty-five.
Exactly twenty-four.
I’ve tested it.
I once hid in a cupboard all day.
The cupboard exploded.
Another time I buried myself underground.
The ground declared war.
I rented a boat.
The ocean apparently enlisted.
There Has To Be A Way Out
Eventually you stop trying to survive.
Instead you start investigating.
Who started the loop?
Why war?
Why me?
Why Steve?
Mostly why Steve?
There had to be something everyone ignored.
Some tiny event before the first shot.
Some switch nobody noticed.
Every reset gave me another clue.
A strange symbol scratched onto helmets.
A clock that always stopped at exactly 6:17.
A soldier who disappeared before every battle.
A radio broadcasting tomorrow’s weather…
…yesterday.
Then Things Got Weird
One death didn’t reset properly.
Instead of waking on the battlefield…
I woke up floating in space.
Not flying.
Just… drifting.
Forever.
Facing Earth.
Watching television.
Which is odd because televisions don’t usually work in space.
This one had excellent reception.
The label read:
CIA Observation House – Las Vegas Branch
Naturally.
Because if you’re trapped in an eternal time loop, eventually you’ll find yourself watching intelligence agents play poker.
That’s just science.
CIA Poker Night
Every evening, the same game.
Same players.
Same cards.
Same terrible bluffing.
One agent folded four aces.
Every.
Single.
Loop.
I wanted to scream.
Instead I floated silently through space eating popcorn that somehow existed.
No gravity.
Perfect popcorn.
Don’t question it.
The World’s Weirdest Job
After about ten thousand poker games, one agent finally looked directly at me.
“You can see us?”
“…Yes.”
“Oh.”
Nobody seemed surprised.
Apparently everyone in the CIA had known about me for centuries.
They just assumed I enjoyed floating there.
One of them slid a folder across the poker table.
Across space.
Physics had clearly resigned.
The folder simply read:
PROJECT: DON’T LET GOD DIE
“…Excuse me?”
Wait… God Can Die?
According to the folder…
In the normal world…
God dies every Thursday.
Fortunately, the time loop accidentally prevents it.
Unfortunately…
The same loop also forces me to fight a completely unnecessary war forever.
Someone, somewhere, had basically installed reality using beta software.
The Other Life
The folder contained something else.
A photograph.
Me.
Older.
Grey hair.
Laughing.
Holding hands with someone I didn’t recognize.
Our children were running through a garden.
A dog was stealing sausages from a barbecue.
Normal.
Peaceful.
Real.
That life existed.
I just couldn’t reach it.
Not while the loop kept restarting.
Solving the Impossible
Eventually I realized the loop wasn’t powered by war.
War was merely the symptom.
The real beginning happened before anyone fired a shot.
Every morning…
Someone whispered exactly seven words.
Nobody remembered hearing them.
Except me.
Those words created the first decision.
The first fear.
The first battle.
The first reset.
If I could stop those seven words…
Everything might continue normally.
No battlefield.
No infinite deaths.
No floating through space.
No CIA poker tournaments with suspiciously lucky accountants.
My Brilliant Plan
Simple.
Find the speaker.
Interrupt them.
Replace those seven words with something harmless.
Instead of:
“Today we march because fear demands it.”
I’d try:
“Morning everyone. Fancy pancakes?”
History might survive.
War might not.
Worth testing.
If This Doesn’t Work…
I’ll probably explode again.
Honestly, I’m expecting it.
Maybe by a dragon.
Maybe by Steve.
Statistically Steve is due for a win.
The Ending… Hopefully
If I succeed…
Tomorrow won’t begin with artillery.
It’ll begin with an alarm clock.
I’ll complain about work.
Argue with my spouse over whose turn it is to make coffee.
Plan for children.
Grow older.
Forget battlefields.
Never think about exploding cupboards again.
And somewhere, in a quiet house in Las Vegas, a group of CIA agents will finally finish their poker game…
…without needing a man floating in space to remind them that someone still has to make sure reality stays stitched together.
If that isn’t a happy ending…
Well…
I’ve got twenty-four hours to rewrite it.
Again.
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Every Day Is War Day (Unfortunately)
CIA Poker Night
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