The Second Chance

The year was 2025. Artificial intelligence had wreaked havoc across industries, and soon after, a recession followed, leading to mass job losses.

In Bangalore, India's Silicon Valley, a young man could be seen hunched over in a cubicle, typing lines of code at breakneck speed. He occasionally adjusted his glasses, glaring at the screen with a mix of frustration and determination.

"Sanjay, the manager wants to see you in his office," one of his colleagues said curtly.

Sanjay sighed, already guessing what the meeting was about. His manager would undoubtedly ask for an update on the project. A few months ago, Sanjay had been assigned the daunting task of developing an AI. He knew this was an impossible feat without substantial infrastructure and an advanced understanding of the field.

Despite his hard work, his career had taken several wrong turns, leaving him at a middling point when he should have been soaring. Recently, he had been promoted to team lead, but the pressure of leading a project of this scale weighed heavily on him.

The project itself demanded extensive research, time, and funding—none of which were adequately provided. While he had a small team of five to assist him, Sanjay was painfully aware that completing the AI within the proposed timeline was unrealistic. Nevertheless, he believed he could deliver results if given at least a year.

"Sanjay, what's the project update? The client is asking if it will be ready by next week," his manager asked in a sharp tone, arms crossed in frustration.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but it's not possible to complete an AI with such limited resources in this timeframe," Sanjay replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Then why are we paying you? You were assigned to finish this within the simulated time, and now you're telling me you can't do it? Do you have any idea how valuable this client is? I don't want excuses—I want it done by this week!" his manager barked, slamming a hand on the desk for emphasis.

Sanjay trudged back to his cubicle, lost in thought. Memories of his aspirations after college flooded his mind. Although he had never been the brightest in his class, he had been considered average—a reliable student with dreams of an ideal life. He had envisioned landing his dream job, marrying a beautiful woman, and driving a sleek, fast car.

But life had other plans.

What was the point of studying so much when YouTubers and Influencers made more money than he could ever hope to earn?

He sank into his chair and resumed working on the project. For two days straight, he had been pushing himself to the brink, surviving on caffeine and adrenaline. Sleep had become a distant memory.

Suddenly, his vision darkened, and his head slumped onto the desk.

When he regained consciousness, he found himself standing in an endless expanse of pure white.

"Soul number 77777777777, please proceed to the counter," a robotic voice echoed through the void.

Sanjay's mind reeled. Was this a dream?

He tried to resist, but his body moved involuntarily, carrying him toward the counter as if controlled by an invisible force.

"Sanjay. Died from a heart attack at the age of 35. The soul chosen to receive the prize for being the 77777777777th person to die on Earth-2092. Please proceed to our supervisor's office for your prize," an elderly woman at the counter stated without looking up from the book in her hands.

The dizziness in Sanjay's head began to subside, but he still couldn't control his movements or speak. He felt like a puppet on strings.

Moments later, he found himself inside the supervisor's office. Behind a large desk sat an old man, engrossed in a book. He looked up and smiled warmly.

"Welcome, child, to the place where your destiny is decided," the man said.

Sanjay blinked in confusion. 'Am I… dead? Who is this man?'

"Yes, child, you are dead," the old man said as though reading Sanjay's thoughts. "I am the caretaker of souls, and you are the lucky soul number 77777777777. In every world, this particular soul is granted the chance to relive life with a chosen power."

"Chosen… power?" Sanjay's eyes widened. He had read about similar concepts in novels and mangas. Was this really happening?

"Yes, you will be granted a power. Do you see this wheel?" The old man gestured, and a massive wheel materialized out of thin air.

The wheel was enormous—larger than anything Sanjay had ever seen. Written on its segments were countless abilities: shapeshifting, telekinesis, cultivation, and more. Every imaginable power was listed, with a needle at the top waiting to determine his fate.

"Your power will be chosen by this wheel. Your luck will decide what you receive," the old man explained.

Excitement surged through Sanjay. Finally, he had a chance to escape the misery of his past life. He could rise above everyone, no longer bound by anyone's commands. His mind raced with wild fantasies of living a life filled with power, wealth, and beauty—just like the main characters in his favorite novels.

Seeing the eager look on Sanjay's face, the old man chuckled. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes!" Sanjay exclaimed.

With a swift motion, the old man spun the wheel. It whirred loudly as it turned, the symbols and words blurring together.

Finally, the wheel began to slow, and the needle approached its destination.

The needle pointed to "Walker."

'What the hell? Out of all those powers, I got something like Walker? Does God want me to keep on walking or something?'

Sanjay glanced at the old man with a sidelong look.

"Wow, it's this power," the old man said with a knowing smile.

"What is this? Is it powerful?" Sanjay's curiosity peaked. If the old man was impressed, then surely it must be something extraordinary.

"Huh, well, you'll find out in the future."

Sanjay's eyebrows furrowed.

Hearing this, Sanjay sighed, 'Why does it feel like I got cheated?'

With a wave of his hand, the old man dismissed him. "Everything is done here. You can go now."

---

Far away in the city of Guwahati, a small city in India, a child could be seen sleeping at his desk inside a classroom.

"Sanjay! Sanjay!"

He woke up, rubbing his eyes.

"Why are you sleeping in my class? Did your parents spend their money so you could sleep here?" the teacher's stern voice echoed through the room.

"Go and wash your face," she added, as all the students turned to stare at him.

Sanjay was utterly confused. He had no idea what was happening or where he was.

He stood up and walked toward the bathroom. As he splashed water on his face and looked into the mirror, he froze.

His face looked young, and his hands were noticeably smaller.

I've time-traveled to the past, he realized. The memories came rushing back—his death in the previous life and his encounter with the old man.

When he was told he'd get to relive life, he had assumed he'd transmigrate to a powerful new world, starting over with endless opportunities.

But no, it was the same world, the same life he had already lived once.

Maybe this time, I can avoid the mistakes I made before, he thought, trying to reassure himself.

The school bell rang, and students rushed out of their classrooms. The day was over. Sanjay washed his face once more and returned to his classroom to grab his bag.

He glanced at the door and saw the words "Class 10-A" written on it.

So, I'm in tenth grade. That means it's 2003. This is the year I gave my board exams, Sanjay thought, his chest tightening. This was the first turning point of his life.

He had been average in his studies, but a fever struck just days before his board exams, and he couldn't perform well. He ended up in a mediocre college while his friends got into some of the best institutions in the city.

That was my first failure, he recalled bitterly. From there, his life became a rollercoaster ride, with failure following failure, never letting him see any real success.

This time will be different. I'll work hard and prepare for the exams. I'll make sure I don't fall sick. But then another thought hit him. I don't even remember the syllabus! How am I supposed to start preparing?

'I will think about it in the future.'

He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked to the school compound, where his cycle was parked.

This cycle… He smiled, remembering how his father had bought it for him. Those had been some of the happiest days of his life.

Sanjay pedaled home and called out, "Mom!"

"Coming!" his mother replied from inside the house.

As he stepped inside, he paused to take in his surroundings. They were living in a rented apartment, just as he remembered. Later, they would move to another rented house.

His family's biggest dream had always been to own a home. But even by 2025, he hadn't been able to buy one. They were still living in a rented house when he died.

His mother came out of the kitchen, looking younger and healthier than he had seen her in decades.

It felt like an eternity since he had last seen her like this. In his previous life, she had been in her sixties, with gray hair and wrinkles, struggling with age. Seeing her now, strong and youthful, brought tears to his eyes.

"Sanjay, what happened? Why are you crying?" his mother asked, her voice filled with concern as she walked closer.

Without saying a word, Sanjay hugged her tightly and sobbed.

"What happened? Tell me, my child. Did something happen at school?" she asked, sounding tense.

After a few minutes of crying, Sanjay finally replied, "No, I just missed you."

"Missed me? You were gone for only six hours at school. Why would you miss me? Sanjay, are you sure nothing happened?"

Sanjay knew his mother wouldn't let it go without a proper explanation. She was strong-willed and wouldn't rest until she got an answer.

"I was just nervous about my upcoming board exams," Sanjay said, putting on a sad face.

Hearing this, his mother relaxed and smiled.

"Oh, son, don't worry so much. Everything will be fine. Go freshen up, and I'll prepare something to eat," she said, heading to the kitchen.

Sanjay smiled and went to his room. The two-bedroom apartment was just as he remembered. One room was his, and the other belonged to his parents.

He looked around his room with nostalgia. There was a study table, a bed, and a few miscellaneous items scattered around.

He eagerly inspected everything, excitement bubbling inside him at the thought of starting fresh.

After enjoying a home-cooked meal, he locked his room door and sat on his bed.

Suddenly, he felt something calling to him—something he hadn't noticed before.

He raised his left hand and saw a tattoo on his wrist. It was a black star with four streaks extending outward.

He had waved his hand in front of his mother earlier, but she hadn't reacted to the tattoo.

'Most likely, others can't see it,' he thought.

'What is this?'