Jonathan was walking home on one very late evening from an exhausting shift.
The streets at this time were practically abandoned by people aside from the workers like him, bored teenagers and transportation services, the kind of drivers who never really clock out.
As he was walked, he wondered what he was even doing with his life. Wasting his youth on this endless loop of wake up, work, sleep, repeat.
He kicked a rock to vent his frustration, following it's arc across the street where his eyes caught some dumb teenager stepping off the pavement, like the world owed him right of way, head glued to his phone, not noticing that he was stepping in front a bus.
To Jonathan the bus horn didn't sound like a warning, but a decision he has to make. Right now.
He didn't think. He dropped what he was carrying and moved.
By the time his handbag and jacket hit the pavement, he already grabbed the boy by the shoulder and pushed him ahead, hard.
The kid stumbled back onto the sidewalk, eyes wide, finally present in his own life.
Jonathan merely had a heartbeat to register what space he'd just vacated.
He turned his head to his right and two headlights filled his world.
And then—
Nothing.
Empty void.
Not blackness. Blackness implied eyes to see it, This was… absence. No floor beneath him, no air he could breath with lungs he might not even have. Just… existing… without existing.
Jonathan tried to blink and realized he didn't even have eyelids to blink with.
He was just… being.
"Hello?" Jonathan asked the void. "Can anybody hear me?"
His voice didn't echo so much as simply… exist in the void.
"Yes. You have reached Cosmic Afterlife Processing. Your death is very important to us."
"My—my what?"
"Your death. Please hold while I pull up your file."
The voice had all the enthusiasm of someone reading the terms and conditions aloud.
"Do you know what happened?"
"I'm… I'm… dead."
"Yes, correct. I'm very sorry for your loss."
"My loss? I'M the one who died!"
"Yes. That is the loss I'm refering to."
Jonathan swallowed more out of habit then necessity. After processing his situation, his first real thought was stupidly human.
"The kid. Is he safe? Is he all right?"
"Yes. You successfully saved his life at the cost of your own." A pause. "That's… actually fairly commendable. We don't get many of those."
"You don't?"
"Most people die from ladder accidents and poor dietary choices. You file has been flagged as 'Heroic Sacrifice.' That comes with benefits."
Jonathan let out a laugh— well at least he tried to. "Well. I didn't die for nothing, right?"
He spent so many years obsessing over his favourite show about survival, about running, about clever escapes— about someone who always found a way out of whatever he found himself in.
Only to go out like some side character in the first 10 minutes.
"You had a worthy life. You lived with integrity and kindness— " the entity made a slight pause. "— You worked hard, kept your word, and treated others with respect."
"That's… nice. What now?"
"According to the rules of reincarnation, you are entitled to request certain parameters for your next incarnation. Within reason."
"'Within reason'? What does that mean?"
"It means you can ask. Whether the universe complies is another matter. Terms and conditions apply."
"Wait, there are terms and conditions?"
"There are always terms and conditions."
Jonathan didn't even try to pretend he was calm. All he has in his head is his favourite Sci-fi TV show. Doctor Who had started as a hate-watch and turned into passion.
"Doctor Who. The Whoniverse. Please tell me that's on the list."
"…Accessing database. Please hold."
A long pause came, longer than usual.
"Is that a no?"
"The system is loading. Your universe selection is… complex. The Whoniverse falls under Special Circumstances."
"What does that mean?"
"It means paperwork. So much paperwork…."
"So can I choose it or not?"
"Yes. Though I should warn you— "
"…Yes? Warn me about what?"
"Nothing. Nothing. You can choose the Whoniverse. Moving on."
"Yeah, that didn't sound like nothing!"
"Per Section 7, Subsection 12, I am not required to elaborate on warnings that would influence you decision. Do you want it or not?"
"Yes, sheesh, okay, Jesus Christ I want it, I want it…"
"Accepted."
"Yes!" Jonathan said, then immediately tried to regain some of his dignity. "Okay. Okay. Species. Time Lord."
"Ah. Noted. Thank you for the specificity. In another universe someone asked to be Gallifreyan, and got reincarnated into a custodian."
"…umm, what?"
"The Gallifreyan genome is diverse. Very awkward if you don't specify. We really should update the form to separate 'Gallifreyan' and 'Time Lord,' but Change Requests take approximately three hundred years to process."
"…oh, okay. Umm, what happened to them?"
"Still filing the complaint. Anyway, Time Lord. Noted. That selection comes with approximately forty-seven sub-categories of biological configuration, but given your time constraints and knowledge base, I'll assign standard defaults."
"Wait, forty-seven—"
"Standard defaults. Moving on. Any specific role?"
"... Well, I don't want to be the Doctor. Or the Master, Hell, not even the president."
Jonathan's mind snapped to his own hobby, to the unglamorous work nobody talked about.
"Engineering. Maintenance. TARDIS work."
Another pause.
"Curious choice."
"Well." Jonathan tried not to sound defensive. "Somebody has to."
"Hmm. Might I suggest you spin this?" the administrator entity said.
A wheel appeared— bright, ridiculous looking, and completely out of place with the void surrounding Jonathan.
"Umm, what is that?"
"The Ability Wheel. We've been using this system for approximately four thousand years now. It's very popular,"
"It looks like it came from a casino."
"We bought it from a casino. Budget cuts." Another slight pause. "Marketing insisted on the name. Honestly, I call it the Random Advantage Generator, but tested poorly with focus groups."
"Focus Groups?"
"You'd be surprised how much research goes into the afterlife experience. Now spin it."
Jonathan grabbed the wheel with no hands and yanked it. The wheel started to spin immediately.
After spinning for a while the wheel slowed and stopped on: Enhanced Integration.
"Congratulations." The word had all the enthusiasm of a pre-recorded message. "You have won: Enhanced Integration. Hm."
"Hm? Is that bad?"
"No, it's actually quite useful. Accelerated information processing, enhanced learning capacity. You'll be exceptional even by Time Lord standards."
"Really?"
"Yes. I'd say you got lucky, much better than what the last person got."
"Why? What did they get?"
"Perfect pitch. They were reincarnating as a tree in a fantasy world."
"Oh my God, that's terrible!"
"That's probability." Another pause. "Anyway, wonderful. The transaction is complete. Now as per Universe Integration Protocol 14-B/67— "
"Wait, what protocol?"
"— you will arrive in the selected universe as a post-Time War refugee. Memories and biology sealed via chameleon arch technology. The watch will activate when narratively appropriate"
"When WHAT appropriate? WAIT— "
„This is standard procedure, it's in Section 23, Paragraph 7 of the Temporal Species Reincarnation Agreement for temporal integration. No additional charges apply."
„HOLD ON, I DIDN'T AGREE TO— "
"Your agreement was implicit upon selection. Thank you for choosing Reincarnation Services."
"WAIT A MINUTE, I—"
"Please hold for transfer. Estimated wait time: zero seconds. Have a nice existence."