THE REBORN GENIUS

CHAPTER 2 — REBORN BENEATH THE BRIDGE Part 1

Justin touched his throat, then examined the animal's mouth. He had spent his entire previous life studying the natural world, but nothing in his scientific knowledge could explain what was happening.

"Either I've gone insane, or something extraordinary has happened."

The dog snorted. "Humans are always saying strange things. First, you collapse beneath a bridge, then you wake up and start asking stupid questions. Honestly, I should have left you there."

Justin's expression changed. "Beneath a bridge?"

"Yes. Unless you think that patch of dirt is a luxury bedroom."

Justin immediately looked around.

The trees, unfamiliar vegetation, and distant mountains he had noticed moments earlier were gone. Instead, he found himself beneath an enormous concrete structure supported by thick pillars. Above him, vehicles rushed across the bridge, producing a continuous rumbling sound.

A few metres away, rubbish bags were scattered beside a damaged shopping trolley. An old mattress lay against one of the pillars, while several people occupied makeshift shelters constructed from cardboard and plastic sheets.

Justin slowly stood.

The world around him appeared completely different from the place where he remembered waking up.

"What happened to the forest?" he asked.

The dog tilted its head. "What forest?"

Justin looked towards the enormous concrete structure. "This wasn't here when I opened my eyes."

"Well, congratulations. You've discovered that things exist outside your immediate field of vision."

Justin ignored the insult and examined his surroundings more carefully.

There were buildings beyond the bridge, enormous structures covered in glass, metal, and brightly coloured advertisements.

Vehicles moved along wide roads, while people walked past the area carrying bags and speaking into small rectangular objects.

The distant skyline contained buildings taller than anything he had ever imagined constructing. He watched a vehicle pass overhead and listened to its engine.

His eyes narrowed.

Internal combustion engine. Probably a modern automobile. Another vehicle followed, and then another.

Justin stepped closer to the edge of the bridge, studying their movement. "Interesting."

The dog approached him. "What?"

"Those machines. They're moving without horses."

The dog stared at him. "Are you serious?"

Justin turned. "What?"

"Cars, human. They're called cars. Everyone knows what a car is."

Justin looked towards the road again. "Cars," he repeated quietly.

The word felt familiar, although the machines themselves were considerably more advanced than the crude transportation devices he had once encountered. He looked down at his clothes.

His shirt was dirty and several sizes too large, while his trousers were torn around the knees. His shoes were worn, and his hands were covered in small scratches.

He certainly did not look like someone who had recently been executed. More importantly, he did not feel like the person who had stood before Chief Harold.

Justin raised his hand towards his neck.

He remembered the executioner's axe descending. He remembered the sensation of accepting his death and the darkness that followed.

Yet his fingers found nothing.

There was no wound, no scar, and no trace of the injury that should have ended his life. He touched his chest and felt a steady heartbeat.

His body was alive. "Impossible," he whispered.

The dog watched him curiously. "What's impossible?"

Justin slowly lowered his hand. "I was executed."

The dog's ears lifted. "Executed?"

"Yes. I was sentenced to death, and the executioner brought an axe down on my neck."

The dog stared at him for a moment before taking a small step backwards. "Right. You're definitely strange."

Justin almost laughed.

He had been called a demon by an entire town, yet somehow, being judged by a talking dog felt considerably less insulting.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The dog sat down and scratched behind one ear. "Biscuit."

Justin nodded. "That's an interesting name."

"Don't start."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did. An idiot gave me that name because he used to feed me biscuits. Apparently, he couldn't think of anything more creative."

Justin considered the animal. "Then why do you still answer to it?"

"Because I like eating, and the idiot had good biscuits."

For the first time since waking up, Justin smiled.

There was something strangely comforting about the dog's personality. Despite its ridiculous habit of insulting him, Biscuit appeared to possess a level of intelligence that was difficult to reconcile with his appearance.

Justin crouched slightly. "How exactly can you speak?"

Biscuit shrugged. "How should I know?"

"Can you explain why humans keep putting themselves inside those noisy metal boxes and driving around like they're being chased?" Justin asked.

"They're called cars."

"Whatever." Justin studied him again. "Have you always been able to speak?"

"Of course."

"Then why haven't humans noticed?"

Biscuit gave him an offended look. "Who says they haven't? Most humans simply don't understand me. Others hear barking and assume I'm asking for food. It's quite insulting, actually."

Justin remained silent.

He was beginning to suspect that his situation involved considerably more than an ordinary change of location.

A loud horn interrupted their conversation.

Justin turned towards the road and watched a large vehicle pass beneath the bridge. Its exterior was polished, its windows tinted, and its engine produced a deep mechanical rumble.

He followed it with his eyes until it disappeared around a nearby intersection. Then he looked towards the distant buildings. "What city is this?"

Biscuit scratched the ground with one paw. "Depends on what you're looking for. There are plenty of places around here."

"I mean the name of this city."

"Oh. Lagos."

Justin repeated the name quietly. "Lagos."

He had never heard of it. "Which country?"

Biscuit looked at him suspiciously. "You're not joking, are you?"

"I don't have a reason to joke."

"Nigeria."

Justin searched his memory. The name meant nothing to him, although the language used by the people passing nearby sounded remarkably familiar.

He decided to ask another question. "What year is this?"

Biscuit stared at him. "You don't know?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking."

The dog yawned. "Anyway, it's 2026."

Justin blinked. "2026?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

Justin slowly turned away. His mind began calculating.

The last year he remembered clearly belonged to a civilisation that possessed no modern electricity, no automobiles, and no advanced communication technology.

The society he had lived in was primitive compared with the enormous city surrounding him, yet the dog had casually mentioned a year that sounded impossibly distant.

"Are you certain?" he asked.

Biscuit rolled his eyes. "I might be a dog, but I'm not stupid. I know what year it is."

Justin looked towards the sky.

If the information was accurate, then he had not simply travelled to another location. He had somehow crossed an enormous stretch of time.

Thousands of years might have passed since his execution.

The thought was overwhelming.

Everything he had known was probably gone. His workshop, his inventions, his childhood home, and even the people who had condemned him were likely nothing more than forgotten names.

He had died in one world and awakened in another.

Yet the strangest part was that humanity had survived long enough to build a civilisation that seemed almost magical to him.

Justin slowly exhaled. "Then I really have been reborn."

Biscuit tilted his head. "Reborn? Is that what you're calling it?"

Justin looked down at him. "What would you call it?"

"I'd call it waking up in a terrible place without food."

Justin almost smiled again.

The dog was certainly good at reducing extraordinary situations to irritatingly practical problems.

As the conversation continued, Justin began asking questions about the new civilisation.

He wanted to understand how people obtained food, where they lived, how transportation worked, and what principles governed the economy.