Not My Selection

A forced reincarnation. A corporate system. A war fought through machines.  Alright, alright. This requires context.  I didn’t choose the body, the world, or the job.  One moment, I was dying in a freak accident on my commute. The next, I was standing in a blank space, staring at a selection screen I never touched. The selection timer ran out before I even knew what it was.  Now I’ve been assigned a life in a war I don’t understand, piloting machines large enough to flatten buildings, in a world where people treat genetic engineering like a kitten with a ball of yarn.  I don’t get a say in this, because wars and corporations don’t ask for permission or admit mistakes.  Somewhere above all of this, a corporation is watching, categorizing, and calling it entertainment. To them, death is either a logistical failure or a dramatic surprise ending.  Still, I was going to die anyway. Death and taxes, ya know.  So, I will do what I do best adapt, survive, even occasionally pay attention.  …And along the way, I might have made a few questionable decisions, which I assure you, were deemed reasonable at the time.  So, spoiler, here is the story of how I lived.  Author Note: This is my original universe, written entirely by me. I use AI tools and Humans for grammar and spelling checks. Occasionally, they twist a sentence on me. Consider those rare moments, unintended flavor.