If he chose Rebirth, all of these memories—the beetle, the umbrella tilt, the pickled plums, the silence of his father's hospital room—would vanish. He would be a blank soul in a new body, with new parents, new skies, new pain. No baggage. No regrets. Also no anchors.
He looked at his hands. Thirty-five years old. Soft palms. No calluses from meaningful labor. No scars from adventure. If he chose Rebirth, all of these memories—the
[WARNING: Choice is final. Time remaining: 00:02:47] If he chose Rebirth
That last line hit him like a cold wave. all of these memories—the beetle
"Okay."