Peter Folkson opened his eyes, the memories of rolling green meadows and the warmth of Abi’s hand fading like mist. Strange sensations prickled his skin; his fingers weren’t quite right, longer and smoother, and the ceiling above him shimmered with holographic symbols.
"You are in the year 3989. You have experienced a rare phenomenon—linear body realignment," the doctor explained, her voice gentle yet impossibly crisp. Peter stared at the mirror handed to him, aghast at the unfamiliar face of Gino, a man of the future.
Dr. Elian, the chief neurologist, approached with measured steps, holding the wand between his fingers. "Your consciousness has journeyed here as a result of a medical glitch, a one-in-millions anomaly. Like a chain missing its cog by a tooth—your life’s linear line shifted," he explained.
Peter felt the weight of centuries pressing upon him, the confusion swirling with awe. "Others are affected too. The body you inhabit was once Gino’s, and your own body in 1825 is now home to a Greek philosopher from 4AD," continued Dr. Elian. The screen flickered, showing faces and bodies displaced through time.
Peter clung to the last fragments of his old life: the feel of grass underfoot, the anticipation of meeting Abi. He remembered stumbling, his heart pounding, then the sharp snap—falling, waking anew.
In his hospital bed, Peter whispered, "Abi… I hope you find me again," his voice lost among the hum of future machines.
Meanwhile, in 1825, Austin, the Greek philosopher, awoke in Peter’s body on the meadow hill. Abi ran to him, panic etched on her face.
Abi knelt beside Austin, concern giving way to confusion as she noticed the unfamiliar gaze in his eyes. "I am not Peter. I am Austin, a Greek from 4AD," he confessed, words both foreign and sincere.
Tears filled Abi’s eyes, but she chose compassion over despair, taking his hand and vowing to care for the soul inside, no matter its origin. Their lives twined together, creating a bond that would endure for decades.
Dr. Elian activated the wand, its holographic interface enveloping Peter in a torrent of knowledge. He learned of spiritual enlightenment, rapid evolution, and the transformation of humans into a new peaceful race.
"The Mutatur Humano are those who survived the enlightenment. Few endured the vast knowledge uploaded into their minds," the doctor explained. Peter felt his thoughts expanding, his senses sharpening, but he was barred from glimpsing the details of his 1825 life.
Peter realized that, just as Austin had built a new existence in his 1825 body, he too must embrace this new epoch. The faces of Abi, Austin, and Gino lingered in his heart—a chain of souls linked through time.
"I am part of a story greater than myself," he murmured, watching people—Mutatur Humano—move with grace and purpose. Somewhere, in another future, Gino lived on in another body, each consciousness forging a path in new worlds.
Peter thrived in 3989, learning, growing, and embracing the future. Austin and Abi found happiness in 1825, their love transforming with the passage of years. The chain of consciousness continued, each link forging new meaning in the tapestry of time.
The glitch in God’s design became, for them, a gift—an opportunity to discover themselves anew, across ages.
