Damn, that dog looks strangely like my ex-girlfriend's ugly face. Looks like fate opened my eyes at just the right time… Isaac smiled as he looked at the hideous poodle of an old lady who reeked of wealth. I know, I know, looks aren't everything… but still, there's a limit…
After mentally sighing at a thought that sometimes revealed a certain narrow-mindedness on some subjects, Isaac lifted his eyes to the bakery sign that had just come into view at the corner of Rue de Tocqueville.
That street name doesn't ring a bell? Makes sense, you're in Paris, and unless you're Parisian or a rich Chinese tourist who got lost during his trip, you've probably never heard of it.
The smell of bread assaulted Isaac's nostrils as he stepped into the bakery, a rich scent of wheat, pastries, and sweets arranged behind display windows, all just begging to be devoured.
I'm like a chubby kid in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Please, I need to get out of here fast… he thought, a faint bit of drool at the corner of his lips after receiving his two baguettes.
He left that store that could tempt even the devil and headed toward a tall glass building that this time smelled of offices and paperwork.
Impossible to miss this one. The building was strangely tall and stood right in the middle of the business district. If you're educated and ready for a TV game show, you'd know it's called "La Défense." For the rest, people a bit like me, thank God the internet was invented.
Isaac walked toward it, and once he arrived, he passed right by without paying it any attention. Logical. His job wasn't there, but in a smaller building that smelled instead of slightly yellowed paper, something old, mixed with fountain pen ink and a hint of food left over from the day before.
He pushed open the building's wooden door, which creaked as he entered, and inside was a vast space lined along the walls with enormous bookshelves filled with books thicker than the last.
Closer to the center of the room stood a huge table, and on it lay an interactive world map displaying in real time any meteorological or human phenomenon that could alter the world's cartography.
As a cartographer, I never get tired of marveling at this kind of technological feat. he smiled, caressing the table with an almost tender gesture. Too bad I'm the only one who gets to enjoy it. Cartography no longer has the popularity it once did.
The silence in the room was heavy enough for him to take it as a reply.
After a few moments, he moved toward one of the bookshelves. A somewhat worn wooden ladder rested against it, allowing anyone who wished to climb up and retrieve whatever source of knowledge they sought. Of course, as long as it had something to do with cartography. Otherwise, I'm afraid you'd leave empty-handed.
He climbed the ladder, two steps at a time.
So fast that even speed itself was shocked.
But the ones most shaken by the impact were the worn wooden steps.
If they had thoughts, they would have been a torrent of insults in the face of such pain.
And they would have been right!
Cracks spread through the wood.
Snakes of emptiness splitting apart the union of matter…
- "I'VE GOT IT!" Isaac shouted from the top of the ladder, a thick dusty book in hand. "The cartography of Paris, from the Eiffel Tower to the catacombs, my favorite!"
He came back down just as quickly, but this time something snapped.
A foot that found no support. A fleeting thought suddenly understanding what was happening. An impact, a blink, and a flash of black…
Followed by the sensation of his skull bursting, sending shockwaves through his brain in an ocean of pain and spongy noise.
And then suddenly came the cold, an icy cold that slowly crept into his body like a serpent, like a poison eating him from within as it moved through his veins with delight.
That poison gradually filled everything Isaac considered to be his very being. In that black space, he had no bearings. There was a crushing silence there, yet alive enough to remind him of the sensation of goosebumps.
The poison had no interest in his thoughts and continued on its path until it reached his heart. The cold pierced it, riddling it with a thousand needles that made Isaac scream in pain.
- "AHHHHHHHHHHHH"
His body jolted upright, drenched in sweat, in a bed covered with green wool blankets, under a dubious light that barely allowed the outlines to be seen.
Isaac clutched his head in his hands, his eyes slightly bulging as they stared at the flickering lightbulb.
Yellow. Black. Yellow. Black.
In rhythm with the light.
- "Damn it, what the hell just happened."
His hands kept trembling in his hair while a drop of cold sweat ran down the back of his neck.
It took time for his disordered thoughts to calm down. He shook his head, refusing to let himself sink. His cartographer's mind quickly took over to stop the terror in his emotions from taking control of his brain again, analyzing his surroundings in detail thanks, every other second, to the continuously flashing light.
Cold gray walls framed all four corners of the room. A pitiful desk made of decrepit wood, probably eaten away by insects, added a touch of decoration to that grim emptiness.
Isaac threw aside the wool blanket and placed his bare feet on the cold floor. The sensation reminded him of the black space, and the beginnings of trauma rose inside him, but he pushed it down just as quickly and resumed his cold analysis.
His feet were no longer size 45, slightly smaller, with softer skin, less pulled by calluses. The hair, however, had clearly already gotten past puberty and had made a noticeable appearance without ruining his aesthetics.
He ran his hands through his messy hair, catching sight of a few black strands. His hands then came to rest on his knees at the same time as a sigh that burned his lungs. They were somewhat veiny, the nails bitten but not bloody, and his fingers were rather graceful without being effeminate.
His analysis could go no further because his hearing picked up the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs.
The kind of sound your father makes when he rushes upstairs to beat you. The kind of sound you never forget, in my opinion, but softer, more muffled, as if filled with worry.
The door suddenly opened and a woman entered, somewhat old but not that old either. He didn't recognize her.
But the moisture-clouded eyes, slightly red, widening at the sight of him and filling with fierce, raw love as she saw him awake, gave him enough clues.
- "ISAAC, you're awake!!!! I thought I heard something!! Since your accident three days ago, the doctors said that… The doctors said that…" she said, making a futile attempt to finish her sentence.
The young boy barely had time to think of what to answer before she threw herself into his arms.
The pain came just as fast as her hug, and a groan he couldn't hold back escaped his lips.
- "Ahhh, I'm sorry, my boy. Mom missed you so much, she was so scared for you!" she said apologetically. "Rest a little, I'm going to get you something to eat."
So this woman is my mother. I figured as much. A little too much emotion all at once, but a bit of love feels good. I feel like I'm dreaming. How many years has it been since I last received this kind of love? Actually… is this a dream? No, the pain was far too real for that. Then what? he thought as he watched her leave.
He pushed the wool blanket away from himself again and tried to stand. His legs trembled under his weight, which he tried to steady as best he could by placing his hands on the bed.
I'm like a stranger in my own body, damn it, I can't even control anyth... He stopped mid-sentence, realizing what he had just thought.
A stranger…? Shit, don't tell me that's it! Don't tell me I died and then took this child's place!! Please, I'm not a murderer. I never wanted to reincarnate in the first place… Old Isaac, I'm sorry…
He focused on his body again. The trembling interrupted his thoughts, and little by little it grew lighter until he managed to stand without help. His unsteady steps led him to the window, where moonlight faintly pierced through the gray curtains, just as gray as the walls.
Curious to see the landscape of his reincarnation, he slowly pulled the curtains aside, as fast as his weak muscles could without collapsing, and the view before him was shocking enough to leave him stunned.
- "I'm in Paris? I'm in Paris???" he exclaimed at the sight of a monument he would recognize among a thousand.
The Iron Lady stood there in all her majesty, towering over the city as a giant towers over ants.
Though his eyes marveled at the love of his life, he couldn't help noticing something from the corner of his eye that instantly caught the attention of the geographer in him.
Massive walls block off certain streets. Glowing inscriptions run along the buildings like fireflies. There are watchtowers and silhouettes in uniform on the rooftops!!!
He frowned.
Even during a world war, Paris had never had this kind of defensive military layout.
Then he lifted his eyes southward, beyond a massive wall covered in the same inscriptions as the buildings, and saw a strange dense fog moving like a living entity, shifting about yet unable to cross into the city.
Everything is strange, the layout, that fog that gives me the overwhelming urge to run away. Looks like an investigation is waiting for me on the horizon, he thought with a dark expression. The author of my favorite book would roll over in his grave if he saw what the City of Light has become! he smiled ironically.
Unfortunately, he didn't get to analyze the how and why of it in detail, because hurried footsteps were coming back up the stairs.
He rushed toward his bed, as much as his weak legs allowed, which forced him afterward into a pathetic but effective swan dive. The bed protested a little, but it held.
The door opened, and for the second time that night, someone shouted his name.
- "BIG BROTHER ISAAAAC!" cried a childish voice this time, running over to hug him far more gently than his mother had.
Isaac melted at the little body hugging him with all the strength its arms could muster.
- "AGATHE! Be careful with your brother, he's still hurt!" his mother shouted from downstairs.
Agathe loosened her hold slightly and looked at him with teary eyes.
- "Big brother," she repeated. "You have to be careful. You promised you'd always protect me from the evil monsters in the Fog…"
Something warm spread through his heart, completely different from the cold of death, and a smile he had not worn in a very long time stretched across his face.
A little sister. He had a little sister. I promise you, old Isaac, I'll take care of her. I promise.
He looked at her more tenderly now as he asked,
- "What monsters are you talking about, Agathe? Those only exist in stories, don't they?"
She looked at him strangely, as if he had just said the dumbest thing in the world.
Then a scream rang out. It wasn't human, Isaac was sure of it. The cry awakened something primal in his brain, and the cold returned just as fast, wrapping around his heart again.
Agathe trembled in his arms and managed to whisper, almost inaudibly,
- "Monster, a monster… Protect me, big brother…"
He held her tighter, his eyes turning serious.
This world was not the Earth he knew.
Where had he arrived?