I am suddenly aware. I’m more than this tiny, weak form, but memories of other lives fade upon incarnation into my new body. The emotion they left me with remains, however: Excitement. Anticipation at experiencing new things.

  A crackling fire bathes the room in light and warmth. I see faces and hear voices around me. My infant senses can’t make out much, though.

  

  

  Another box springs up in my ‘third eye’. I’m pretty sure there isn’t actually an eye visible from the outside, but I can clearly see these system interface windows without impeding my vision.

  

  

  Okay, I have no idea what in the heck sort of world I just reincarnated into, but apparently there are smart homes with neural links that get implanted into newborns. I’m not sure whether or not I should find this disturbing, but that’s apparently the world I’ve got.

  Fine, let’s see this tutorial. I try to think in the general direction of the ‘Accept’ button. Fortunately, the interface is designed to be intuitive.

  

  

  An arrow points to a highlighted icon with a rough humanoid silhouette. I select it.

  

  

  It seems I wasn’t actually named until I was seven days old. That’s an interesting array of attributes, now what the heck is up with that Soul level? I’ve lived many lives? Too bad I don’t remember any of them but the first one, if that’s true. Or at least I assume my life in 21st century Earth was the first one. Maybe it’s just as well, though. What, exactly, does that sort of absurd number get me?

  

  

  I go through more of the tutorial in between growing up. I’m fully conscious on some level that doesn’t just involve the meat brain I’m in at the moment, but there’s only so much I can do as a baby. I read through every bit of information the system will tell me about skills while trying to get to know my new family.

  Including whatever language it is they’re speaking. It sounds like gibberish at first, but after listening to them babble for an indeterminate amount of time, I get a notification box.

  

  

  Auto-translation, how convenient. I accept.

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  I share a room with a woman I assume is my mother, named Anise, and another woman who seems to be the same age who I think is my aunt, named Hazel. I spend an excessive amount of time listening to them bicker, and while I don’t catch all the words yet, the tone definitely sounds like sibling rivalry. They’re fraternal twins, and Anise is the elder by 12 minutes, a point which comes up on more than one occasion.

  We spend a good deal of time in a large room with a big, warm fire in the middle along with a number of other people. From what I can gather of the bits of conversation I catch, I have a great many aunts, uncles, and cousins, and most of us are named after birds and flowers. I haven’t seen the outside yet.

  People are singing Christmas carols. Except they’re not really Christmas carols anymore, and many of them have had completely different words put to them. I switch the auto-translator on and off to see how badly it’s mangling the words, and I’m somewhat impressed that the auto-translator managed to make them still rhyme seamlessly.

  Still, I try to act like a normal baby and not worry too much about stuff. I don’t know how they would react if they knew how old my soul is. For all I know, they’d consider me a demon and throw me into the closest volcano or something. I need more information. And while the system tutorials are useful for skill info, they don’t tell me anything about the attitudes of my relatives toward reincarnators.

  The first time I see the sky, though, I know for sure I’m not in Kansas anymore. (Not that I ever spent much time in Kansas.) There are lights in the sky, but they aren’t stars. It’s hard to make out with my infant eyes and puny Perception score, but that much is easy to tell. Blobs of light hang in the sky like distant lamps, most of them green, some blue or yellow.

  Naturally, I babble and try to reach out my tiny hands toward them. I am a baby, after all, and that might be what a normal baby would do, right? My mom snuggles me close as she carries me across the village green.

  High, solid walls surround the small village, and there’s a nip of winter’s chill in the air. Ahead, a large evergreen has been decorated with little lights and ornaments. I haven’t heard anyone say the word ‘Christmas’, but that looks very much like a Christmas tree. And that’s very much the tune of ‘O Christmas Tree’ they’re singing even if it’s not the same words. It’s all a little surreal.

  My mom sits down at a bench and a man approaches her with a large box covered in blue and gold wrapping paper. She encourages me to tear it open, but I need a little help with the ribbons. Once free of its festive packaging, my gift is revealed: a plush mallard duck, with a green head and larger than I am.

  “A drake for Drake,” my uncle (probably) says merrily.

  I put my little arms around the soft toy and babble happily. This is the best present I’ve ever gotten! That I remember, at least.

  An older woman comes up with another gift, this one containing a onesie made of soft black wool. My mom takes that aside for the moment and I continue hugging my new duck.

  My attention is shortly drawn away from my gifts. Something is happening in the sky, and the lights on the tree have gone… weird. That’s the only way I can describe it and I can’t see it too clearly from here. The lights on the tree shimmer for a moment longer, and then streak up into the sky.

  The sky is starting to glow violet. No, not the sky, a giant crystal sphere so large that it takes up most of the sky. I didn’t even see it at first since it was dark before. Sparkles of light play across its surface as it brightens quickly to bathe the village in violet light. Around me, the villagers are cheering and applauding, and burst into a rendition of ‘Auld Lang Syne’, but I can’t make out half the words anymore than I could the original version.

  I wave my tiny hands to the sky and babble in unfeigned wonderment.

  

  

  The box in my third eye helpfully informs me of the change in date. There doesn’t appear to be a sun, but it seems there’s some sort of year cycle anyway. What a peculiar world I have reincarnated into.

  The following months see me growing and learning. Talking, walking, and potty training are on the agenda, and I’m looking forward to two of those more than the third.

  With the New Year having come and the skies turned light, the village becomes less crowded as people go traveling again. My mom and I no longer need to share a room with her sister.

  Most of the people in the village live in the big building called the Hearth. It reminds me of a castle, but it’s very homey, and people spend a lot of time in the large round room at the base of the central tower, also called the hearth, although I think this one is lowercase. It sounds lowercase, at any rate.

  Around the village, there’s a workshop I’m not allowed into, a store where I’m not allowed to touch anything, a school I’m too small to attend yet, and an inn where the people who aren’t related to me stay. There’s also a fenced area with a barn containing terrifying black goats the size of mustangs, with glowing red eyes that feel like they burn into your soul if you catch their attention.

  I haven’t seen any sign of a dad around here, and my mom never mentions one.

  I have a great-grandmother named Laurel whose only sign of age is a white streak in her black hair. Everyone treats Laurel with great respect. I’m not sure if she’s the one in charge of the Hearth, but she’s definitely in charge of the barn. Not many people actually want to go near those devil-goats, but she treats them like her babies.

  I can’t keep track of all the names of my aunts and uncles. I do, however, quickly learn the name of Aunt Myrtle. They refer to her as the Elder Hearthkeeper, and she rules the kitchen with an iron skillet.

  The lights in the sky don’t stay the same color. The smaller ones change colors throughout the course of the day, although not all in sync. The big one that takes up most of the sky only changes colors every six weeks. Come mid-February, it shifts to a deep, clear blue. My relatives say the indigo season has begun.

  My physical stats have also gone up another 0.1 points each. If anyone suspects I’m not just an ordinary baby, they don’t say anything in my hearing. My efforts pay off with an unexpected message.

  

  

  I’m certainly not going to complain about filling out my status screen. I’ve played enough games to appreciate the feeling of seeing numbers go up. I do have to wonder if anyone in the village is capable of seeing my stats somehow, though. Can anyone see what skills I have? I suppose it’s not worth worrying about, though. Either they can or they can’t and there’s not much I can do about it either way.