“It’s 8:00 AM, Madam Zahara. Please wake up.”
A sharp, mechanical voice pierced through the fog of my consciousness, jolting me awake. My heart raced as I struggled to pry my eyes open. 'Wait… wasn’t I dead?' The last thing I remembered was the searing heat of flames, the acrid smell of smoke, and the jeering faces of the Alliance soldiers as they filmed my execution. I was Safi Amy, a Ugandan activist who had fought for the rights of non-Africans during the extremist Alliance’s reign of terror. I had been burned alive, a warning to anyone who dared defy their ideology. So why was I waking up now? And who was Zahara?
I opened my eyes, but darkness surrounded me. “Why is it so dark?” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. My hands clawed at the soft surface beneath me, which I assumed was a bed. The texture was unfamiliar—luxuriously smooth, like silk, yet warm and comforting.
No sooner had the words left my lips than the room flooded with light. I blinked, startled, as my surroundings came into focus. I was lying in an enormous bed, its sheets as soft as wool and as smooth as silk.
To my left, a delicate window stretched from floor to ceiling, its translucent glass offering a breathtaking view of a lush garden. Pine trees swayed gently in the breeze, their needles glistening under the morning sun.
Roses of every color bloomed in perfect harmony, tended to by an elderly woman who moved with the grace of someone who had spent a lifetime nurturing beauty. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the faint scent of flowers and the distant murmur of a serene world.
'Was this heaven?' It certainly felt like it. After the pain and suffering I had endured in my past life, this tranquility felt like a reward. But even as I marveled at the peace around me, I felt no regret for the choices I had made. If given another chance, I would have fought just as fiercely for what I believed in.
“Please note that you have one hour to exercise, have breakfast, and prepare for school,” the mechanical voice announced, cutting through my thoughts.
I sat up sharply, my eyes darting around the room. “Who’s there?” I demanded, my voice tinged with both curiosity and unease.
The room was vast, its walls adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer faintly in the light. Everything was meticulously organized—a desk with a sleek, translucent surface, a wardrobe that seemed to blend seamlessly into the wall, and a carpet so plush it felt like walking on clouds. But there was no one in sight.
“I am Povi, your personal assistant,” the voice replied, its tone smooth and almost human-like. “I was specially selected by Mr. and Mrs. Nia to cater to your needs.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Nia?” I echoed, my confusion deepening. “I don’t know anyone by that name. And where are you? I can hear you, but I can’t see you.”
“I am in your brain. Mr. and Mrs. Nia are your parents,” Povi explained matter-of-factly. “Every citizen of Aetheris is born with a neural chip that allows them to communicate with their personal assistant. My voice is audible only to you.”
I froze, my mind struggling to process this information. A neural chip? Aetheris? None of this made sense. The last thing I remembered was the Alliance’s brutality, the flames consuming my body, and the world fading to black. And now I was here, in this utopian setting, with a voice in my head claiming I was alive and well.
“I should be dead,” I whispered, more to myself than to Povi. “That’s for sure.”
“According to my observations, you are very much alive,” Povi replied. “With the exercise and health regimen I have designed for you, you can expect to live up to 200 years or more, provided you follow my instructions.”
“Two hundred years?” I blurted out, my voice rising in disbelief. “That’s impossible! No one lives that long. And what is Aetheris? I’m Ugandan, not… whatever this is.”
“Aetheris is the only landmass on Earth,” Povi explained, as if this were common knowledge. “The average life expectancy here is 200 years, thanks to advancements in technology and medicine. As for Uganda, I have no records of that place my database,”
I stumbled out of bed, my legs carrying me effortlessly across the room. This body felt foreign yet familiar, as if it had been waiting for me all along. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and froze. The reflection staring back at me was not my own.
Gone was the haggard, weary face of a woman who had spent years fighting for survival. In its place was the face of a young woman with striking features—caramel skin that glowed with health, full lips, a button nose, and large, expressive brown eyes. Her hair was wrapped in a translucent bonnet that seemed to defy gravity, floating gently above her head. The body was tall and slender, with a lithe, athletic build that spoke of a life free from hardship.
I reached out to touch the mirror, half-expecting the image to vanish like a mirage. But the reflection mimicked my movements, confirming that this was indeed me—or rather, the body I now inhabited.
“Is this… rebirth?” I whispered, my voice trembling. Memories of my friend Anush flooded my mind. She had believed in reincarnation, often joking that we would be reborn into a world of peace and beauty. I had laughed it off at the time, but now, standing here in this strange, perfect world, I couldn’t help but wonder if she had been right.
“Rebirth is not a concept recognized by the Federation,” Povi interjected, pulling me back to reality. “Superstition is highly discouraged. Please refrain from discussing such topics outside this room.”
I ignored Povi’s warning, my mind racing with questions. What had happened to the world I knew? Where was Africa? And why did this place feel so eerily perfect?
As I stood there, staring at the stranger in the mirror, a sense of determination began to stir within me. If this was a second chance, I wasn’t going to waste it. I would uncover the truth about Aetheris.
But first, I had to survive in this strange new world—and figure out who Zahara Nia really was.
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