The Nibiru Effect

Memory 58

The darkness doesn't last long. It fades quickly, yet the world it reveals fails to come into focus. I can make out a few tall buildings and what appears to be a massive glass dome hovering high above my head, but everything else is blurred nearly beyond recognition. Every few seconds the image becomes clear, but then my vision starts swimming again, and I'm left struggling to remain upright. I don't understand what's happening until I notice a man standing before me.

He staggers down the street, barely managing to stay straight. I can tell he's drunk, but that doesn't explain why I'm just as incapacitated. That is, not until I recognize the man.

It's Jonn.

He's a lot younger—his hair only has very minute traces of white, and his right arm is unmarred by scars—but it's definitely him.

If the past few minutes have taught me anything, it's that the most illogical explanation is usually the right one. Using this logic, I determine I'm currently trapped inside one of Jonn's memories. Seeing how he was drunk out of his mind at the time, it's only logical his memory is equally distorted.

I stagger down the street in pursuit of Jonn. At first, I'm tempted to study my surroundings as this may well be my only chance to visit Atlantis, but the effects of alcohol make it difficult to focus on any one point. Just remaining upright is a challenge. I thus forget about taking in the beauty of my surroundings and instead concentrate on following Jonn.

We zigzag down the street for a good fifteen minutes before the mostly black-haired soldier stops dead in his tracks. I somehow manage to focus on his face and find it frozen in horror. I don't understand why until I follow his gaze and discover one of the nearby houses is on fire. Actually, two of them are. One is burned nearly beyond recognition while the other is still in the process of catching fire.

"Anna!" yells Jonn. "Kara!"

I don't know who Anna is, but the mention of Kara's name fills me with dread. I rush forward in pursuit of Jonn as he staggers toward the burning dwelling. He trips on more than one occasion but somehow manages to advance at a rapid pace. I keep up quite easily. I suspect that, as a mere observer, I suffer less intensely from the effects of alcohol poisoning.

We eventually reach the house, only to discover a small gathering of people. They stand around, talking in hushed tones as they watch the homes go up in flames.

"Where's my wife?" demands Jonn, grabbing the first person he comes across. It's a young man. He looks familiar, but I can't figure out why. "Where's my daughter?"

"I-I don't know," stutters the man. "We didn't see anyone leave the house."

Jonn shoves the man aside and rushes toward the less damaged of the two houses. A woman tries to stop him, but he pushes her aside and hurries on. He soon reaches the front door and grabs the handle, realizing too late that it's glowing red. He yowls in pain and staggers back, but his retreat is only momentary. Struggling to maintain his balance, he kicks in the door. A ball of flame erupts from the opening, but he dives out of the way just in time. I get hit square in the face, but my inability to directly interact with the memory ensures I'm unharmed.

"Anna!" yells Jonn as he scrambles to his feet and, arms raised to protect himself from the flames, staggers into the burning residence. "Kara!" he screams as he advances. Flames rise on all sides, threatening to ignite the man's alcohol-laden breath. He staggers on, struggling to get his bearings.

I follow close behind, unperturbed by the heat or the flames. I walk through walls of fire without even closing my eyes. I breathe in the thick, dark smoke that seems to fill every centimetre of my blurry surroundings yet my lungs remain undamaged. I can't even smell the acrid odour of burning furniture. Only two of my senses are working, and they are that of sight and hearing.