Dark. An empty void.
That was what Jonathan saw no matter where he looked. He didn't even know if he still had a body, because he didn't feel anything. No cold. No warmth. Just... is.
Moments before this, he had been walking home after finishing his shift. He was thinking about stopping for groceries and then binge-watching his favourite TV show of all time, Doctor Who.
The show had a long history. It was the world's longest-running sci-fi series. It first aired in 1963 and produced around 850 episodes through 37 seasons. In 2005 the series was rebooted after a long pause, so newcomers had a great opportunity to become part of the fandom. The show had a new start and allowed new viewers to catch up with decades of history and explained everything one needed to know about one of the best sci-fi shows of all time. What's not to like?
Jonathan, with great enthusiasm, buckled in... and then proceeded to turn off the TV after three episodes and sat there, staring at the blank screen.
"What in the heresy of time and space is this?" his voice echoed in the empty apartment.
He hadn't had the displeasure of watching such a freak of nature in media form since the '90s. Maybe Sliders was the last show that was this ugly, and even that was already a decade old when he saw it.
But even putting that aside, the show, in those three episodes, had shown him mannequins that came alive, man-eating trash cans, CGI spiders that reminded him of early 2000s games, and farting people.
His stomach couldn't take it. The first meeting and first breakup came and went, and he said his goodbye.
Then, when no one was looking, fifteen years passed, and the world met an unidentifiable thing from an unknown origin that forced people to stay inside their homes for two years.
With literally nothing better to do, after watching every movie and TV show on his hard dr— on his streaming platform twice and reading every book on his e-book reader... which were legally sourced... he decided to finally give the show another chance. He made the decision he was going to watch every minute of it, because if that didn't kill him, his boredom would.
In 2020 came the twelve-season marathon of Doctor Who. It was tightly packed. It turned out this was the type of show that would try everything in its power to push people away in the beginning, but if you were patient, you'd have an experience so special it would be a great shame to miss it.
Yes. He had been wrong.
Fast forward to 2025: he was walking home from the grocery store, unable to decide which of the classic era runs he was going to binge on the weekend, since he had consumed almost everything modern DW could offer, when he saw an ignorant teenager crossing the road, eyes glued to his phone, not noticing he was stepping in front of a bus coming down the street.
He, without even having the opportunity to really think about the situation, dropped his bag that contained his dinner and rushed toward the boy, pushing him out of harm's way, not realizing that while the youth was now safe, he had taken his place in danger.
His last sight in life was two headlights coming his way at an alarming speed before everything went dark. The same dark he was in now.
"Hello?" Jonathan asked the void. "Can anybody hear me?"
"Yes."
"Whoa, who said that?" Jonathan asked, his voice alarmed. "Is anybody there?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Umm, hello?"
"Hello. Do you know where you are?"
"..."
"Do you know what happened?"
"I'm... I'm..."
"Yes?"
"...I'm... dead."
"Yes."
"I'm dead. Hm. Indeed. I died. Yes. I see. I'm dead. Hm. I'm dead," Jonathan mumbled aloud, processing the new information. Then he paused suddenly and asked the voice, "Is he all right? That boy?"
"Yes," the voice answered. "You successfully saved his life, sacrificing your own in the process. That is commendable. You ought to be proud of yourself. There's no greater love than giving your own life for someone else."
"Right." Jonathan could only muster a one-word response before he started thinking about his life. His family, his friends, colleagues. Neighbours. His cat. It was over. The end.
"What now?"
"You had a worthy life. You lived with integrity and kindness. You worked hard, kept your word, and treated others with respect. You loved and were loved. You left the world better than you found it, and those who know you will carry your warmth, humour, and example in their hearts."
If Jonathan still had a body, he would probably have wept a little. He didn't know who or what this entity was, but it was clear it knew everything that happened in his life. While he never liked to boast, Jonathan would be lying if he said it didn't fill him with joy that his efforts had been recognised. A man probably couldn't have a greater honour than that.
"Which is why you have been chosen."
That sentence pulled Jonathan out of his thoughts. "Chosen? For what?"
"You are a good person. So according to the rules of reincarnation, you are allowed to have an opinion about your next life."
"Opinion? What the hell does that even mean?"
"You can influence your next life. Where you want to be reborn and what background you want to have."
"Wait, what? You can do that?"
"Yes."
"Wait, wait, wait. You're saying I can choose which world I'll be reborn into? And who I want to be? I can just tell you that and you will do it?"
"Yes."
"Oh, oh, okay, can you please give me a bit of time? I need to think about this."
"Yes."
Okay. This is... this is... this is—okay, let's do this. Which universe? I can choose any? He said that, didn't he? I can choose any. Marvel? Uh, God no. DC? Same. Too complicated. Too many authors with their own headcanon. Those universes must be a mess to live in. Hm, but then... oh!
"Can I choose the Doctor Who universe?"
"..."
"...Is that a no?"
"Yes..."
Oh. Bumme— although the entity wasn't finished yet, so Jonathan's disappointment came too soon.
"...You can choose the shared universe of what your species calls the Whoniverse. Now that the place is decided, you can choose your origin. This can mean you can be any species, and you can have any role of your choosing."
"Wohoho, YES! Let's go, Doctor Who universe! All right, all right, let's calm down. Haha!" Jonathan could barely control his joy.
"So. Any race, right?"
"Yes."
"Then it's a no-brainer, really. If you have the opportunity to be a Gallifrea— no, no, no, please don't lock that in yet!" Jonathan suddenly said, panicking. If he still had arms and hands, he would be waving them like there was no tomorrow.
"A Time Lord. I want to be a Time Lord specifically."
"Accepted. What do you want to be?"
Glad for his quick correction, he was relieved he hadn't said Gallifreyan. Why go through all that rigorous training and risk failing when he could be the "finished product" to begin with?
Hmm. On to the next topic. What kind? I like tinkering with stuff. I could go that route. Like a mechanic, or an engineer. Time Lords are geniuses. You can see that from the Doctor and the Master and the others, and they aren't even the scientists of their people. I could be a TARDIS engineer. Oh, that would be fantastic! I'd love that.
"Yes, I've decided. I want to be a mechanic on the Citadel. Can I be a mechanic on the Citadel?"
"Are you certain?" the entity asked, for the first time with the slightest hint of emotion in its voice. "You could be anyone. You could be the President himself, you know?"
"Wouldn't I be replacing Rassilon? No, no. I'm not going to be taking an existing member and be limited by their character and people's opinion about them. No, no. I'm going to be my own person."
"Well. Your decision. In that case, since your origin is nothing special, might I suggest you roll this wheel?"
A colourful disc suddenly appeared between Jonathan and the entity, with so many entries written on it you couldn't even count how many options there were.
"This is what we refer to as an 'Ability Wheel'. It's a lottery, really. I use it when a reincarnee wants to have special abilities in their new life. I think, considering the situation, you may spin it once."
Eh? This is suddenly a lot to take in. Other reincarnates? Oh, right, he said it's how these things work, I was just too startled to think about it. Does this mea—
"Ahem," Jonathan cleared his nonexistent throat. "Does this mean I will meet other reincarnates in my new life?"
"Yes and no. Infinite universes, with infinite versions of an infinite number of people getting reincarnated. You will be 'alone' in there."
"Phew. Good to hear. Okay, so do I just spin it?"
"Yes."
"...Right. Here I go."
Jonathan grabbed the wheel with no hands and yanked it with great force. The wheel started to spin immediately.
After a while the wheel began to slow down and stopped at an entry that said: assimilate.
"Congratulations," the entity said, without any emotion behind its voice that would actually show enthusiasm. "You have won assimilate. Assimilate is a passive skill. It allows you to process information at a heightened rate, allowing you to learn skills faster than what is considered average for your species' standard. You chose a Time Lord previously. They are considered to be one of the smartest races, and your learning capability will be exceptional even among them."
"Whoa, isn't that really good?"
"Yes. Now that we're done, you're ready to go."
"Wait, already? I have so many quest—"
"Please note that, due to the circumstances of your chosen origin, you will arrive in this universe as a refugee after the Time War, whose memories and race have been sealed by a chameleon arch. You will be sent to twenty-first-century Earth, where your fob watch will call you once you're ready."
"WAIT, WHA—?"
"Please note this is necessary to help your new identity be better integrated into this universe. Thank you, and good luck. May you find your worth in your new life."
"WAIT A MINUT—!"
End of chapter.