Daniel slowly opened his eyes. Instead of the familiar ceiling of his room, a vast, blinding whiteness stretched out endlessly in every direction. There was no horizon, no shadows, no sound.
"Is this the afterlife?" he muttered. He tried to stand, but his feet found no purchase. He wasn't standing; he was floating, adrift in a sea of nothingness.
"Hello? Anybody here?" he called out. His voice didn't echo. It just died in the sterile air.
Panic flared in his chest, hot and suffocating. He balled his hands into fists. That damn truck driver. The memory of the blinding headlights and the driver's alcohol-flushed face flashed in his mind. He had died. He had actually died, and the absolute worst part was that his new novel was still sitting unwritten in his head.
Daniel took a shaky breath, rubbing his temples to force the panic down. Let's calm down, he told himself. If I died to a truck, maybe I just need to wait in this room before I reincarnate. That's how it works, right? A new world with magic! A breathless, slightly hysterical laugh escaped his lips as his otaku instincts kicked in to shield him from the existential dread.
An unknown amount of time passed in the endless silence.
"I wish I could do something in this dimension," Daniel groaned, crossing his legs as he floated. "Wait... maybe I can create a world with my mind?"
He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing the deep, burning orange of a star. How is a sun even made? Gas? Fusion? Forget it, just make a sun!
When he opened his eyes, the temperature in the white void had spiked. Dozens of glowing red lines of energy were converging a few yards away, twisting and weaving until they ignited into a miniature, floating sun. It radiated a comforting, blistering heat against his skin.
"It actually worked!" Daniel cheered, pumping his fists like a kid who just got the ultimate toy. "Now, let's give it some planets!"
He closed his eyes again, envisioning a solar system. When he looked, spheres of swirling rock and gas popped into existence, suspended in the light of his tiny star. He grinned, overwhelmed with his own god-like power.
[WARNING. CRITICAL INSTABILITY DETECTED.]
Daniel jumped. "What the—? Who's there? Are you the System?"
[CREATION FAILURE IMMINENT. EVACUATE VICINITY OF HOST CREATION TO AVOID SUB-ATOMIC ANNIHILATION.]
"Oh, Jesus Christ!" Daniel scrambled backward, awkwardly "swimming" through the air away from his creation.
A deafening shockwave ripped through the void. Daniel was sent tumbling, coughing as a wave of searing heat and cosmic dust washed over him. He patted his clothes frantically, his skin stinging from minor burns.
"System, are you there?" he shouted into the ringing silence. No answer. "Maybe it's just an automated hazard warning."
Determined, he sat back down. Let's start smaller. A computer. He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing a sleek desktop setup.
He opened his eyes. Nothing. Just the endless white.
"Are you kidding me?" he yelled. "I can make a literal star, but I can't get a PC?"
[INSUFFICIENT UNIVERSAL ENERGY FOR ADVANCED TEMPORAL TECHNOLOGY. DIRECTIVE: CULTIVATE BIOLOGICAL LIFE TO HARVEST ENERGY.]
The robotic voice echoed directly inside his skull this time. Daniel rubbed his ears, wincing. "Fine. Life it is."
He returned to planet-building, but this time, he watched closer. He conjured two planets near his sun. Without gravity to anchor their orbits, they drifted aimlessly. One caught the pull of the other, spiraling out of control until they slammed into each other with a violent, ear-splitting CRACK, exploding into a shower of molten rock.
Daniel sighed, dodging a stray, flaming asteroid. "Right. Orbital mechanics. This is going to be harder than writing a novel."