The second morning in Amos Aquila's body felt different than the first. Bailey had picked up on Amos's routine from the previous day. He spent some time exploring the fields around the farm, inspecting the animals, and covertly watching his new parents complete their chores.

  He now had a semi-competent understanding of how to milk the cows, toss hay, and could name the basic tools of the trade.

  It was with confidence - perhaps unearned - that Bailey tossed aside his patchy blanket and jumped out of bed. He changed into Amos' work clothes.

  Bailey spared a glance for Yakob's bed. In contrast to yesterday, it was an image of order and cleanliness. The scattered papers were cleared away and rumpled sheets straightened out.

  Three weeks until I can start learning to read with Yakob.

  Until then, I'll work hard to keep up my appearance as Amos. I can also learn about the world around me from Kien and Leila - my parents - while I wait!

  From this point forward, I will be Amos.

  Downstairs, Bailey - no, Amos - met his parents for breakfast. They chatted about one of their cows, Clover, who was going lame. It was a dreary topic, and, in the coming months, the Aquila family farm would have to debate letting her live in pain or putting her out of her misery. Amos had no input.

  Amos and his parents said the same prayer before eating, Praise Progress, but the eggs weren't as good as they were yesterday. The breakfast table felt like a crucial piece was missing, maybe two, considering Amos' state of being.

  Just as Kien and Leila were getting up to leave, Amos smacked his head like he had forgotten something simple. "I can't believe it! I've totally forgotten the Emperor's name!"

  Amos' parents froze. They both turned slowly to look at him with concern.

  "Our emperor?" they clarified.

  Was I that obvious?

  "Uh, haha, no. I meant the other one?" Amos attempted a recovery.

  Amos' father thought for a moment, "There's a heretic filled Empire south of the glacier, is that what you mean?"

  "Yes! Those heretics!"

  "I believe the Empress there calls herself Carmine," Kien looked to his wife, who nodded in confirmation. Her expression of worry had faded by now, changing into a look of concentration, "Yes, Carmine of the Bosuric Empire. Yakob's better with this stuff than we are. You should ask him about it when he gets back."

  Amos nodded, "I have a lot of questions for Yakob."

  "I never knew you to be interested in politics, dear," said Leila.

  "Everything connects to everything else," Amos said, "it's important to understand the world around us."

  "He has been talking to Yakob!" exclaimed Kien, "I'll have two genius sons by the end of the month, no doubt!"

  Leila took the opportunity to exit the conversation. She went into a side room and returned with two buckets full of what appeared to be wheat seeds. She handed one to Amos and kept the other.

  "Amos, we'll start seeding the east fields today since we finished fertilising them yesterday. Your father will see about that heifer, then come join us later."

  Amos nodded. He was pretty sure there wasn't much of a science to seeding. Maybe just sprinkling the pods in a certain pattern, but even that wouldn't make too much of a difference. Amos resolved to randomly throw the seeds with confidence.

  They exited the front door together. Leila touched the bronze icon hanging there. Amos noticed a polish on what would be the base of the 'bottle' from many hands rubbing it. The Aquila family were clearly pious - or at the very least, patriotic.

  Why wouldn't Yakob want them to know he's working for the Trenmir if they seem to value the Empire so much?

  Amos followed his mother to the east fields while thinking on such problems.

  I need to be less obvious when gathering information.

  It seemed like a blunder to ask the name of our Emperor, but not another country's... Maybe it's common knowledge here.

  Amos was dragging his feet in the dirt as he walked and, consequently, tripped on a hardy tuft of grass.

  As he fell, he put out his arms to break his fall, but dropped his seed bucket in the process. The wheat spilled into the grass and dirt. Amos tumbled into the mixture of earth and wheat, protecting himself from the worst of the fall with his forearms. The wooden bucket bounced in front of him and came to a rolling stop at Leila's feet, spilling whatever contents were left in it along its path.

  She turned to observe his prone body. Amos groaned.

  "There's something weird going on with you," she said with a sigh.

  Fuck.

  Amos remained silent, heart pumping.

  "You fell over yesterday morning. Fell over today," she began listing, "You're forgetting important things and asking such strange questions."

  Is she putting it together already?

  Is my second life over so soon?

  "I know," she began again, "I know you said you weren't sick yesterday. But are you absolutely sure there's nothing going on?"

  Oh. Of course. She wouldn't just assume her son has been replaced by a stranger from a different universe.

  "Yeah, I actually haven't been feeling good at all. I don't know what's wrong with me," Amos said, relieved to have an excuse for his behaviour. Then he remembered Leila's reaction when he apologised the day before and added, "Sorry."

  Leila sighed. "Pick up the seeds you just dropped. Every single one. Then, give me the bucket and go to bed. I'll seed the fields myself until Kien gets here."

  "Straight to bed?" Amos sat up, "but what about my farm chores?"

  "You can't do any chores if you drop from plague, you goose."

  Amos felt immediately guilty. Though they weren't his family, and he didn't truly have any responsibility towards them, he felt an inexplicable urge to ease any of their pains. He had taken their son from them after all. Also, Yakob had made it sound like the profits from the Aquila family farm were declining. Could Amos really hasten their bankruptcy so?

  "Can I do..." he began, trying to think of a plausible way a sick person might help around a farm, "something else?"

  Leila paused before responding, "You can pick up those seeds for me first. Leave them in the bucket there, then go clean the house if you have to do something."

  "Got it, clean," Amos nodded, already trying to pick out the seeds from the grass.

  "Then, if you're feeling any better, you can check on the animals. Your father's already been looking at Clover so there shouldn't be too much to do, but they might need feed and water. You know how the cows like a scratch, too."

  Amos nodded.

  "But take it easy, boy. The work will wait for you, I promise."

  Amos finished collecting the seeds and stood up straight. He dusted off his work clothes and saluted his mother. He turned around and walked away stiffly like a soldier. He heard Leila chuckling behind her back and imagined her shaking her head at his antics.

  ...

  The house was a simple enough job for Amos to clean. The work was comforting and familiar. Something he could do for the Aquilas without causing even more problems for them.

  Amos took this time to explore the house in its entirety. He felt it was best to do his snooping while he was alone, so that no one asked why he was investigating the pantry so thoroughly, for example.

  It was a simple two-story house with a thatched roof. All the windows in the house were constructed using beams of wood without any glass. When the wooden shutters were opened to let in the sunlight, the inside of the house met the exterior fresh air.

  Amos noticed cobwebs in the high ceiling of the central room, but couldn't find a ladder to reach them. Instead, he picked up a long pole he discovered in the eastern storerooms. Then, he found one of Yakob's shirts in their shared chest and wrapped it around the end of the pole.

  Amos used his makeshift duster to wipe away the cobwebs in the ceiling. He grimaced to think of Yakob's reaction if he saw what his shirt was doing right now.

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  After completing a few chores around the house, Amos went to clean the bedrooms in the western wing. He first went upstairs and made his bed. Then he shook the dusty, web-covered shirt out the open window and returned it to the chest.

  Downstairs was Kien and Leila's room. Amos stopped at the door. He felt like an intruder here more than anywhere else.

  Leila told me to clean the house...

  She would be upset if I cleaned everywhere except for her room.

  Amos held his breath and pushed open the door. The shutters were closed, letting only thin spines of sunlight through cracks in the wood to illuminate the room. Amos cast a glance around in the gloom. Small tools hung on pegs in the walls. The double bed was made up neatly, with a chest similar to Amos and Yakob's at its feet. A simple desk and chair was huddled into the far corner.

  Amos walked up to inspect the desk. Immediately, he noticed there was a map unfurled on its surface.

  Yes! This is what I've been looking for!

  He went to the window and flung it open to let the light enter the room properly. Hurrying back to the desk, Amos sat at the chair and began examining the map.

  It was vertically oriented, and not particularly large. The label at the top was illegible to Amos, but not for lack of trying. Next to the label was the same icon that hung above the door of the farmhouse. The paper itself was a sort of parchment with a yellow tinge, and the map was crudely drawn with charcoal. A line across the centre denoted, in Amos' estimation, a river. To the south of the centre of the river was a little star - home?

  There were a few labelled circles dotted around the map. Only two drew Amos's immediate attention. There was a smudged line in the charcoal, originating from the farm. It followed northeast along a dotted line by the river to a small village. From there it went east and stopped at a slightly larger circle.

  Without even being able to read the labels, Amos understood what this map was showing.

  It's our immediate surroundings!

  The smudge must be where Kien or Leila traced Yakob's route... Then that means this first town is Botre Village, and the second is Tarton!

  I can also see many other farms around this river, and a few forests. There are mountains to the far south as well, apparently.

  The Bosuric Empire I learned about this morning must be south of the mountain range, which provides a natural barrier between us.

  But I still have to learn about my own country...

  Amos' musings were interrupted by that damned rooster, crowing for attention. In all his excitement to gain more information about his new world, he had totally forgotten he was supposed to tend to the animals as well.

  Amos left the map on the desk, then tidied up whatever miniscule mess could be found in his parent's room. He closed the window shutters around the house and made his way outside with a bucket of feed.

  ...

  The animals on the farm were exactly what you may expect. Amos went around to each pen, or field, respectively and fed and watered the animals. It seemed the only farm animal to have their own space was Plunket, who got a stable all to herself. Amos wished Plunket was here for a pat.

  Otherwise, the pigs seemed to be the animals that most desired Amos' attention. He wasn't sure if it was the chin scratches he gave them that made their upturned noses wiggle in delight, or if they were searching for the food bucket he brought with their sense of smell. Amos chose to believe the former.

  The cows and sheep were endearing, though they generally paid him no mind. He emptied his feed bucket for them with the idea of refilling the water troughs. The still water at the bottom provided a mirror for Amos, if he wanted one.

  Amos stopped and looked down into the dirty water. Certainly, the quality of reflection was greater than that of a busted metal fitting.

  Like before, he was able to identify the most prominent features of his new face: The blond hair and grey eyes, the sharp jawline. His hair was quite long. In this position, it fell around his face like a curtain, hiding it from any outsiders. Amos was able to see on his face the pockmarks from a life of farming and the grimy streaks from a day of cleaning.

  He tried making a few expressions, stretching his muscles. The smile came easy to him - a toothy grin that made him appear younger than he actually was. When he dropped the smile, his features had a solemnity to them that his old face never did.

  Amos started to flex over the water. He was toned, but not exactly muscly. It was a step up from his old body, marked by complacence. He wiggled his eyebrows, impressed with himself.

  It was at this point that Amos' egotism was interrupted by an ear-splitting SQUAWK. He whipped around to ascertain the origin of the noise. Surely it wasn't the chickens?

  Amos made his way around to the coop. A lone rooster came careening around the corner. Feathers fluttered through the sky. It appeared to be panicked.

  "Woah, buddy," Amos said, "why so fast?"

  The rooster stopped at his feet. It ran around to hide behind him, like a child holding onto its mother's legs.

  "Animals are so weird," Amos smiled at it, "I never used to have any pets..."

  He reached down to try stroking the cock, and saw what had scared it so much from the corner of his eye.

  It was a beast unlike Amos had any seen. It looked like a chicken that had been exposed to radioactive waste. Its feathers were a sulfuric colour. They were patchy, barely covering the bumpy skin stretched over taut muscles underneath. It stepped forward, carefully at first, with feet that had too many claws. Its bony legs were banded with black and white striations. Its beak was too long and too sharp. It fixed an eye - a horrid eye, placed upon a stalk like a snail's - on the rooster hiding behind Amos.

  Amos' knees were locked in place, regardless of his desire to turn and run. The disgusting chicken thing threw back its head on a serpentine neck and, without releasing Amos from its grotesque gaze, released another shrieking "SQUAWK!!"

  Is that a fucking chicken in this world?

  Why are the roosters normal?!

  Two more of the creature's stalked out of the dark coop. Their feathers puffed out and ruffled, seeming to inflate the size of them. They had decided on a path of attack. No longer were they stalking and scratching at the ground. The chickens rushed at Amos.

  His fight or flight response managed to take effect, and his joints unlocked. Amos sprinted away, the rooster hot on his heels. He screamed and the chickens responded with their demented screeching. The rooster darted in and out of his feet, searching for safety.

  Amos made it all of about fifty metres before the chickens caught up to him. As they ran, they pecked at his legs, trying to trip him up. Amos and the rooster had run from the coop to the cow pen.

  The water troughs! I can take refuge on top of them!

  Amos spared an apologetic glance for the rooster. He felt a kinship with it, but these chickens seemed to be angry at him only for protecting the rooster from their wrath. If he left it to them, they might leave him alone. Unless they were spiteful animals by nature.

  Amos didn't waste any more time thinking it over and jumped on top of the rickety trough, trying to balance on the edges. Whatever dregs of water were left inside sloshed about as he did so. The cows looked on without comment, chewing cud peacefully.

  The ugly chickens flapped around the base of the trough for a bit. They tried to peck at Amos with a righteous fury, and when they weren't pecking they were screeching at him. Fortunately for Amos, the freaky chickens from another world seemed unable to fly.

  One of the chickens - Amos thought it might be the original one that accosted him - was chasing the rooster around in circles, pecking at it angrily. Amos saw the roosters eyes extending on stalks and retracting as it ran.

  Eventually, they gave up on harassing him and turned to return to their coop.

  "Ugly, spiteful, bastards!" Amos called out as they retreated. One of the chickens stopped in its tracks. Its eyes rotated around on their stalks without its head moving at all. Amos spat to the side to show his disdain, still standing atop the trough.

  In response, the chicken quickly turned and ran at full speed towards the trough. It rammed into the leg with its head. Amos began to fall. He felt a splash as he landed inside the trough, but the resistance didn't stop his fall. Gravity had taken hold and he kept falling.

  He fell into darkness. And he kept falling...

  And falling...

  Until...

  ...

  Gravity reversed itself and Amos broke the surface of the water. He found himself in a bright space. It was too bright to be the orange toned light of the setting sun. Everywhere Amos turned, the horizon extended into eternity, completely flat. A thin layer of water covered the entire floor.

  "Huh," Amos said, as he got up, clothes dripping from the familiar lake, "at least there's no chickens here."

  Almost nothing had changed since the last time Amos visited this place. The expanse was no less infinite, the water no deeper or shallower, the horizon no more interesting. There were a few key differences. The giant flying fish were nowhere to be found. Amos' reflection no longer showed Bailey's face, but that of the blond farm boy. Additionally, Amos wasn't the only person here.

  There was a second figure. Kneeling in the distance.

  The water did not ripple around it.

  Amos was wary of being flung about again, but he began to walk towards it anyway. There was nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do. As he moved away from the place where he entered the infinite lake, a blackness materialised behind him. Perhaps, more accurately, a point in space that was devoid of light, so that it only appeared black.

  Amos was torn between approaching the figure or the void first. He decided the person was tranquil enough not to disturb just yet and reached out to touch the dark sphere. As he did so, he felt an impression in his mind: A water trough. Cows. The farm. He pushed further and felt a slight suction, pulling his entire body. Instantly, he recoiled from it.

  This must be a portal!

  It seems I can enter and exit this place freely!

  Now that Amos understood the portal, he turned his attention to the other person in his personal realm of infinity.

  Maybe other people can enter here... This might not be as safe a place as it seems.

  Amos walked towards the kneeling figure. He cast minuscule waves in front of them as he stepped through the water. They heralded his approach to the stranger. The waves didn't refract around it, but rather passed through its body, as if it didn't exist at all. If the stranger noticed the waves, it didn't bother to look up to see who was coming. Amos stopped when he felt he was in earshot.

  "Hey!" he called out.

  No response.

  "Hello? Who are you?"

  Nothing.

  "What is this place? How are you here? How am I here?"

  Stillness.

  Dread clawed at Amos from below. He cleared his throat. It didn't help.

  He felt a pull towards the stranger. It wasn't the same pull as last time - not a physical magnetism. It was the pull of a mystery, of the unknown. The desire to peek into the abyss, l'appel du vide.

  Amos took a deep breath. He rounded the figure and came face to face with it.

  Oh, fuck me.

  The kneeling figure was an exact replica of Amos, as far as he could tell. It looked straight through Amos with glazed eyes, the grey of the iris overtaking the whites. Its mouth hung open like a mask of agony or terror. Its fingers were embedded into the obsidian floor of the infinite lake, appearing to meld with the stone like it was just as liquid as the water resting atop it.

  Amos watched his duplicate intensely. It was entirely still, without breath, except for occasional twitches that ran across its entire body - cadaveric spasms.

  Amos lifted his arm, slowly. He wanted to touch the replica, to confirm it was real. He reached out, but hesitated just before he made contact with its skin. There was an electric current that ran between the two sitting there, a buzzing that lived behind Amos's eyes and grew in intensity while his hand hovered in the space between them, waiting for something, some sign that this was a good idea.

  He clasped the replica's bicep.

  Nothing happened...

  For a moment...

  All was quiet...

  The twitching...

  Stopped.

  And suddenly, Amos' duplicate hissed and arched its back, the smoky grey of its eyes clearing and transferring to Amos, through their touch, sharing with him the visions it was seeing: A modern city, filled with skyscrapers, and the life of a man in its entirety, up until the moment that man died saving two children carelessly crossing the road.

  Amos watched his life, his old, true, life, before he had reincarnated, from an omniscient perspective. It flashed before his eyes, over in an instant. The exact vision the duplicate had seen.

  It knew his secret.

  The replica of his new body shuddered violently. It pulled its fingers from the obsidian floor, but it wouldn't let them go. A sickening crunch resounded through the lake as it pulled with all its force, screaming, screaming, and left them there.

  There was no blood.

  Amos was still kneeling. The replica stood above him, revived. It was breathing now - panting from the exertion of ripping off its own fingers.

  "Where am I?" It demanded, "Where's my family? Who are you?"