Rebirth: Cheerleading the Collapse

The property manager, driven by greed for kickbacks, rallied the residents to dig a deeper underground parking garage for profit.

But as a geologist with a decade of experience, I saw the danger immediately: a high-pressure underground river lay beneath our community. Any construction would cause the entire building to collapse.

In my previous life, I went door to door, warning the residents of the risks, only to be dismissed as a lunatic.

Desperate, I alerted the authorities, halting the project and averting disaster.

But the property manager turned the blame on me. "That meddling geologist! She's jealous of our wealth and sabotaged our chance to get rich!"

Incited, the residents mobbed my home. In the chaos, the property manager grabbed my son and ran to the balcony, letting him fall from the tenth floor.

The residents, in unison, lied to the police, claiming my son had been playing and slipped.

My family ruined, I succumbed to despair and took my own life.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at that fateful homeowners' meeting.

This time, as the property manager pushed for the excavation, I stood up and clapped. "Neville is right. Not only should we dig, we should dig deeper. Let's do it all at once and get rich together!"

...

"Sherry Poole from Building #8, what's your issue this time?" asked Neville Grady, the property manager. He tapped the table impatiently, his voice dripping with irritation. "You were the one causing trouble last time, holding up everyone's chance to make money."

His words, so eerily familiar, dragged me back to the memories of my past life. After my death, my soul lingered above the chaos.

On the cold cement below, my son lay in a pool of blood, his small body broken from the fall. I screamed, desperate to hold him, but my hands passed through his lifeless form again and again.

In that life, I stood in this same meeting, pleading with them. "Our complex sits above complicated groundwater systems. Below is a high-pressure underground river. Digging three levels for a parking garage will rupture the waterproof layer. The water pressure will destroy the foundation, and the entire building will collapse."

But Neville pointed at me, sneering. "Stop fearmongering! We hired a professional construction team."

My neighbor, Hannah Sykes, piled on, "Quit stalling our chance to get rich. A couple more parking spaces will send property values soaring."

...

Neville's voice echoed through the meeting room, fervent and persuasive.

"Dig three more levels, and every household gets at least one parking space. Some of you can even rent them out," he enthused. "This isn't just about convenience; it's about boosting your assets. I guarantee, within three years, our property values will double!"

Ansel Poole, sensing the tension, tugged at my sleeve. "Mom, what's wrong?"

I gazed at his vibrant, innocent face, and my heart ached with a familiar pang. The people around me were already swept up in Neville's promises.

"Good point! Parking spaces are worth more than cars these days."

"We've needed more parking lots for years. It's about time we dig."

Hannah leaped to her feet, rallying behind him. "I've been saying this forever. I'm with Neville. This is for our benefit!"

I closed my eyes, forcing down the storm of emotions. When I opened them, my face was calm, my resolve hardened.

Hannah, noticing my silence, rolled her eyes and jabbed again. "Sherry, what's your problem? Can't stand to see us all prosper? Neville's doing this for us. Why do you always have to play the contrarian? You think you're smarter than the professionals?"

The room buzzed with whispers.