A Letter

If you are reading this, then it’s happened again, and when I say this, when you read this you will know it’s true.

1. You’ve died, and you’ve come back. But you don’t remember anything. From death or the past before that. You won’t ever. I know, I know. You might be angry, or scared, or annoyed, or in pain, or whatever the hell. Take a quick comfort in this is how it will be.

2. You will also by now have likely realized that this was written by you in some past time. Having this in handwriting seems to help us out. You could try writing a line to confirm it. Unless -

3. Are we under threat or duress? If so, You might not be at leisure to read at the moment. Don’t worry, it’s all there. Both our responses in a fight and the information gathered. When there’s time. If you need something immediately, FIND A PISTOL. I don’t think I need to draw a picture. It will feel right in your hands.

4. DON’T SPEAK. We’ll remember things or use terms that seem to be outdated, or non-existent, or ancient, even if we know them to be the best word possible. Just stay quiet for a while, and ask yourself if it sounds like a word from whatever is being spoken by others around you. Save us some trouble, okay?

Now that that’s all settled, and we have some leisure time to ourself:

It seems we never know the condition of our death or rebirth. We're reborn in the middle of nowhere practically. But what do we find later? Could be dangerous. Could be awkward. You may stumble down from the hills and land with people who thought you long gone. Or go to a location only to find bodies. You may be surrounded by folks acting all kindness and sugar but are really hiding daggers. Scrutinize their reactions carefully. Or, one hopes, we might be surprising a true ally that you have miraculously returned from the brink. Sometimes it’s real quick, and sometimes it takes days. Seems all of those have happened. But we won’t remember it, not even our own name, and we haven’t been able to figure out why and record it successfully.

We do not know our story.

We’ve been piecing together some of our lives, gathering information. There’s a lot there, but modern tools have helped. In the past, we have gotten stuck finding out things because of fires destroying records, inevitable loss, no one left to interview, moving around, wandering, you name it. We can trace our existence back to at least 160 years, but there are suspicions of longer. Maybe much longer. Maybe frightened impossibly longer. Maybe we've been drifting for loanger than we can measure. Only the last century or two is certain. The only thing we can’t put a finger on at all during this most recent span of years is World War Two (more on that later) but we seem to have left things for ourself assuming whatever mission we were on was likely to lead to death.

So yes, we’ve been at this a while. We seem to put our lives on the line for others. But it seems the price of immortality is memory.

How did we gain it? The world is full of stories of beings who quest for this as a gift - most failing. It seems rare among gods and monsters. You’ll see. (Yes, more on this later, too.)

We’ve become very good at reading and writing notes to ourself. You know, you’ll be surprised at the shorthand and language skills we have. This means we’ve also become good at reading the works of others, and researching and learning a lot of things. Deep down, you know this is a core of our being. Our personality doesn’t change, just our memories, so trust it a little. After all, you are reading this. That's a learned skill. Your abilities and skills have not disappeared.

Neither has muscle memory. If you were not under threat and finding weapons earlier, you will discover soon enough that we remember how to move and do things with an alarming amount of practiced skill and finesse. There are certain things we are adept at doing. Those also haven’t changed, though, as you discover them, it might make you wonder about our past and seek out some of the information we have gathered.

Maybe that’s why we have taken to reading and writing, building what stories we can. Hypothesizing. Wondering. Keep up the journal - becoming a diarist is of the utmost importance in a smooth transition between life and death and uncovering the truth. But in most interactions we will have, it won’t matter at all. Doesn’t matter whether this is a blessing or a curse. Doesn’t matter what places we wander to or what names others give us when we get there. What matters are the choices we make and how to live this life we’ve been given wherever that may take us. Trying to set things right as much as we can.

I didn’t need to tell you that, but it felt important to write down - like confirming one of the few truths and constants we can hold on to.

Have we done bad things? Evil things? Tricky, complicated things? Maybe, occasionally, well, yes, yes we have but I think for the right reasons, or protecting people who needed it. Something about keeping the world intact. Our skills are extremely useful in both protecting others and exacting vengeance. Now that’s going to make you think a bit.

Again, don’t worry for right now - unless we are under threat - but we’ve made some instructions and tutorials to navigate this world and we’ve saved some whisky and a list of drinks that we like because, damn it, maybe we deserve one after dying again. So pour a glass and settle in. It’s going to be a long night.