The Nibiru Effect

by G Sauvé

  “Every portal is different,” she explains. “I don’t know where this particular one led, but even if I did, reaching it would be impossible.”

  I’m trying to come up with a solution when Salt ‘n’ Pepper groans. He tosses and turns for a second, then jumps up, fists raised. He looks around, no doubt in search of enemies. When he finds none, he calms down.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “They’re gone,” says Barbie. “They opened a portal and fled.”

  Salt ‘n’ Pepper looks confused.

  “Why are we still here? Why didn’t we—” He breaks off mid-sentence when he notices his bracelet is missing. It takes a moment, but he finally puts it all together.

  “What happened to your bracelet?” he asks.

  “I removed it,” says Barbie.

  “Why? Now we’re both trapped here.”

  “I couldn’t abandon you.”

  The grey-haired soldier is about to retort when he notices me. At first, he’s confused, but then he remembers what happened and his anger flares up again.

  “You!” he growls as he takes a step toward me. I shuffle backward, my hands and feet brushing aside the pieces of shattered stone.

  Salt ‘n’ Pepper marches on, muscles bulging.

  “Dad!” cries out Barbie as she rushes forward. “Stop!”

  I ignore the juicy nugget of information I was just given and pry myself off the floor. Meanwhile, Barbie does her best to slow her father. She grabs his arm, but he shoves her aside. I expect her to fall, but she merely stumbles.

  “It’s not his fault,” insists Barbie, trying to reason with her father.

  “Yes, it is, and he’ll pay for what he’s done.”

  I can’t blame him. I am responsible for everything that happened. Nonetheless, I’m not about to let him pummel me without at least trying to reason with him. If it comes down to it, I may even fight, though we both know how that will end.

  I keep shuffling backward as the madman advances. I’m just about to try to negotiate with him when Barbie yells.

  “Watch out!”

  At first, I think she’s speaking to her father. By the time I realize her warning was meant for me, it’s already too late. I take one final step and hit nothing but air.

  I don’t have to see it to know I have reached the edge of the boarding platform. I flap my arms in a desperate attempt to right myself, but gravity has grabbed hold of me and refuses to let go. It pulls me backward, off the platform and onto the tracks. The fall lasts longer than expected, and I manage to right myself in midair.

  I land on my feet, but the lightning bolt of pain that lights up my right ankle sends me crumbling to the ground. The good news is I missed the third rail. The bad news is my ankle is sprained—or broken.

  I look up and see Barbie and her father standing high above me. Once upon a time, the platform stood a mere meter above the tracks, but it now stands at more than twice that. I guess the tracks got upgraded during the recent renovations, which means returning to safety will be a challenge.

  I try to stand, but pain explodes from my ankle. I crumble, landing far too close to the third rail for comfort. I try again as soon as the pain wanes, but the result is the same.

  There’s no way I’ll get out of here on my own.

  “We have to help him,” says Barbie. She stands on the edge of the platform, peering down at me.

  “Do we?” asks Salt ‘n’ Pepper, appearing next to her.

  “Dad!”

  “Fine. Let’s help the kid responsible for getting us trapped here.”

  He jumps down, landing next to me with a heavy thud. I half expect him to finish me off, but he grabs me by the waist and lifts me like a rag doll.

  “Thank y—“ I begin, but the final syllable dies in my throat when he sets me back down, and pain once again erupts from my ankle.

  “Sorry,” mutters Salt ‘n’ Pepper, but I can tell he isn’t. In fact, I’m pretty sure he did it on purpose.

  Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so.

  “Stop messing around,” says Barbie. “Lift him up.”

  Salt ‘n’ Pepper doesn’t even try to conceal his smirk. He uses his Herculean strength to lift me and waits for his daughter to grab hold of me. She tries, but the distance separating us is too great. We keep trying for nearly a minute before finally giving up.

  “There must be another way,” says Barbie.

  “I have a suggestion,” offers Salt ‘n’ Pepper, but neither Barbie nor I ask what it is. For some reason, I get the feeling his proposal involves leaving me there.

  A heavy silence settles upon us as we struggle to find a solution. I’m just about to give up when I remember something.

  “There should be a set of stairs at the end of the platform. We just need to reach it, and we can climb out.”

  Barbie’s face lights up. I expect her to run to the end of the platform to verify my claim, but she instead propels herself over the edge of the platform and lands next to me with a soft thud. Moments later, she and her father are helping me to my feet. With their help, I can stand without having to put any weight on my busted ankle. Now, all we have to do is reach the end of the platform.

  That’s when I hear it. A distant metallic squealing. It takes a moment before I recognize it. When it finally dawns on me, my eyes grow wide with terror.

  “What’s wrong?” asks Barbie.

  I answer with a single word.

  “Train.”

  Memory 13

  T he train is coming. I can’t see it, but I can hear it. So can both of my companions.

  “We should go,” says Barbie.

  Salt ‘n’ Pepper doesn’t bother responding. He starts walking, dragging me along. Barbie hurries after us. Before long, we’re all walking at the same pace. We progress quickly enough, but my ankle slows us down. So does the third rail. The fact that the train is barreling toward us doesn’t help either.

  My entire body shakes as I hurry along. Barbie and her father do their best to help, but I’m slowing them down. I know it, and so do they. A hero would urge them to leave, to save themselves, but I’m no hero. I don’t want to die.

  “You’re not going to die,” says Barbie, and I realize I said that last part aloud.

  “We would move faster if we left him behind,” says Salt ‘n’ Pepper.

  I wait for someone to laugh. No one does.

  “He’s kidding, right?” I ask Barbie.

  “Of course he is,” she says, but the glare she shoots her father contradicts her statement.

  I gulp, and we keep moving, glancing over our shoulders every so often. At first, all I see is a dark tunnel, but then lights appear. The next time I look, I can see it.

  The train.

  It’s still far away, but it’s getting closer.

  “We won’t make it,” says Salt ‘n’ Pepper as he turns to his daughter. “Go on without us.”

  “No. I’m not leaving you.”

  The grey-haired soldier doesn’t look happy, but he says nothing.

  Time stretches on. Every second seems to last an eternity as the train barrels toward us. The driver must have spotted us because the squealing of brakes fills the air. I glance back and see sparks light up the underside of the train.

  If we can keep moving at this pace, we should make it.

  We don’t.

  I trip on something, and we all go down. I barely have time to notice it’s Salt ‘n’ Pepper’s bracelet before I’m pulled to my feet. We race forward, but it’s useless. The train is almost upon us, its beams bearing down on us like angels of death.

  I try to put some weight on my busted ankle. It hurts, but it allows us to put a little distance between us and the train. I just bought us a few more seconds. But will it be enough?

  I’m afraid to look back. I focus all of my attention on what lies ahead. The rails. The rocks. The wooden crossbeams. Our shadows. They speed along the ground, growing longer with each passing second
, which means the train is growing closer. It’s only a matter of time before it crushes us.

  I resist the urge to look back for as long as I can, but it eventually overwhelms me. I realize my mistake as soon as my head begins to pivot. Not only do I now have proof the train is almost upon us, but the repositioning of my head distracts me. I put too much weight on my injured ankle and pain once again overpowers me.

  I collapse, dragging my companions down with me.

  There’s no way we can outrun the train. We don’t even try. We just sit there, waiting for the end. I glance at my ring and think of my mother. I wonder what she’s like. Will she ever find out what happened to me, or will she spend the rest of her life wondering why I didn’t show up to our meeting?

  “What the drowned!” barks Salt ‘n’ Pepper, putting an end to my fatalist musings. “Why didn’t you tell us you have a ring?”

  I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. Tons of people wear rings. Why would I mention it? But Salt ‘n’ Pepper doesn’t seem to care that. Nor does Barbie. She beams like a kid in a candy store.

  “Use it,” she says. “Save us.”

  I don’t understand what that means. I’m about to say so when Salt ‘n’ Pepper yanks the ring from my finger. Before I can protest, he places it upon his hand—his fingers are far more massive than mine, yet the ring easily slides into place—and twists both triangles in turn. Their tips merge, forming an all-too-familiar symbol.

  An hourglass.

  I watch, amazed, as the air before us starts shimmering. Moments later, electricity lights up the tracks. Within seconds, a portal has appeared. Salt ‘n’ Pepper doesn’t hesitate. He leaps to his feet and jumps into the floating gateway. Barbie follows less than a second later.

  A passage from my mother’s letter comes back to me. “Keep the ring with you at all times. It may well save your life.” I don’t know how she knew, but she did. With one final glance at the nearing train, I step through the portal, avoiding death by less than a hair.

  Memory 14

  I awake in a white room. The ceiling, the walls, the floor; everything is white. Even the bed upon which I lay is white.

  I stand up and walk around. The first thing I notice is the lack of pain. My ankle no longer hurts. I rotate my foot, but it feels fine. The second detail I take into account is the fact that the shrapnel-induced cuts that once riddled my body are gone. I now wear a plain t-shirt and soft, cotton pants. Of course, both are white.

  “That’s odd,” I mutter. I expect my voice to sound hoarse, but the truth is I feel great. That is until I notice my ring is missing. Panic momentarily grips me, but it evaporates when I remember Salt ‘n’ Pepper took it. This allows me to focus on more pressing matters.

  Where am I?

  I look for a way out, but there is none. No door. No window. Only walls, a floor, and a ceiling, all of which are coated with a thin layer of white foam. Even the bed frame is padded.

  I don’t know where I am or what’s going on, but this forced isolation allows me to process the insanity of the past few hours—or has it been days? It takes a while, but I eventually come to the only logical conclusion.

  I’m in a mental hospital.

  The padded nature of the room now makes sense. As does the whiteness. And the total and utter lack of injuries.

  I’m insane.

  I should be worried, but the truth is I welcome the revelation. It soothes me. The insanity of my recent past now makes sense. Still, a lingering doubt persists.

  The hourglass symbol. Is it still there?

  I glance at my wrist.

  “Dammit!”

  It’s still there.

  How can this be? It can’t. It isn’t.

  “It’s not real,” I mutter. “I’m crazy.” I repeat this last part over and over again until I believe it with every fibre of my being. By then I’m so mentally exhausted I can’t resist the urge to close my eyes. Moments later, I’m drifting off to sleep.

  Memory 15

  I awake feeling rested. The whiteness of my surroundings no longer scares me. It’s soothing. I sit up, smiling, and stretch. I’m about to stand when I notice him.

  A boy. He stands in the corner of the room, his arms crossed. Determining his exact age is impossible, but he seems to be no more than ten or eleven. The final detail I notice is the lab coat he’s wearing.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. “Are you lost?”

  The boy cocks his head and studies me.

  “My name is Kidd,” he eventually says.

  “Kid?”

  He nods. “With two ‘D’s.”

  “That’s a weird name.”

  He doesn’t react. He just stands there, smiling ever so slightly.

  “Why are you dressed like a doctor?”

  His smile evaporates.

  “Because I am a doctor. And a scientist. Not that it matters.”

  “That’s impossible. You’re just a kid.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” says Kidd with a mischievous smile.

  What does that mean?

  I take a moment to study him. He looks no different than the two dozen children his age who live at the orphanage. What makes him so special? Unless…

  Kidd is insane. It’s the only logical explanation. I should be concerned, but the truth is I’m relieved. If I befriend him, maybe he can tell me where I am and how I got here.

  “So,” I say, playing along with Kidd’s delusional claim. “You’re a doctor?”

  Kidd nods.

  “I’m here to verify your mental and physical health,” he explains. He may be insane, but he’s a skilled actor. “Shall we begin?”

  I nod.

  Kidd digs into his coat pocket and pulls out a strange device. It’s a plain, metallic egg. It glows softly as Kidd presses it to my chest, but not much else happens. After a series of tests that last mere seconds each, Kidd returns the egg to his pocket and presses his index to his wrist. At first, nothing happens, but then a holographic screen sprouts from the fake doctor’s wrist and hovers above his open palm. Unimpressed by the technological display, Kidd starts tapping away as though it were a mere tablet. As it turns out, that’s exactly what it is.

  I watch, stunned, as the child plays with the tablet. This odd little game goes on for nearly a full minute before Kidd seems satisfied. He shakes his wrist, and the hologram disappears.

  “You’re all set,” he announces. “Your blood pressure is a little high, but that’s to be expected given the circumstances.”

  I stare at him, unsure how to react. Is he insane or is he, in fact, some sort of child genius? Then again, it doesn’t matter. Kidd is the only person capable of shedding light on my current situation, and I plan on taking full advantage of it.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the isolation ward of the Atlantis General Hospital.”

  “Isolation?” I ask, ignoring the building’s peculiar name. “Why?”

  Kidd gives me a placating smile.

  “I realize how confusing this must be,” he says, “but it will all make sense in the end. For now, let me tell you a story.”

  That’s not exactly the answer I was hoping for, but it will have to do.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’m listening.”

  Kidd once again presses his index to his wrist, and a hologram blooms from it. Only this time it’s a miniature, three-dimensional representation of a solar system. At the center stands the sun, glowing with surprising brilliance given the digital nature of the construct. Orbiting it are a bunch of planets. They vary in both size and colour, but their appearance is quite familiar.

  “This is our solar system as it once was,” explains Kidd. The statement seems accurate but for one small detail.

  “There are nine planets,” I say, pointing to the only holographic sphere that doesn’t belong in our solar system. It’s the largest of the bunch and is a vibrant shade of green. It stands at the very edge of the system and orbits the su
n at a much slower rate than the other planets.

  “Good eye,” says Kidd. “As I said, this is our solar system as it once was.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’ll see,” promises Kidd. He flicks his wrist, and the solar system vanishes, replaced by an entirely new planetary arrangement. The sun that stands at the center of this new cluster is far larger than ours. The planets are also more massive. Like the ones belonging to our system, they vary in both size and colour. One appears to be nothing more than a cluster of red, noxious gas, while another is, in fact, two half spheres that float side by side in perfect synchronicity. It’s such a beautiful sight I can’t look away.

  “This is the Babylon solar system,” explains Kidd. “It once consisted of thirteen planets, but one of them was destroyed many eons ago.”

  “What happened?” I ask. I’m not sure how much of this story I believe, but the breathtaking beauty of the hologram is enough to keep me engrossed.

  “See for yourself,” says Kidd. He shakes his wrist, and our solar system reappears. It’s diminutive in comparison to the Babylon system, but the outermost planet—the one I noticed earlier—is roughly the same size as Babylon’s smallest. In fact, the two planets are gradually drawing closer. I watch with a mixture of curiosity and dread as the two celestial bodies near each other. Soon, only a few centimetres stand between them. Within seconds, mere millimetres remain. Then, as though magnetically drawn together, the planets collide.

  The explosion is both beautiful and horrific. The globes shatter and scatter outwards like the petals of a flower. The longer they get, the less they resemble what they once were. Soon, all that remains are a few scattered pieces. Oblivious to the fact that two of their relatives have been killed, the remaining planets continue their trajectory.

  Well, I think, that explains why we only have eight planets in our solar system. But…

  “…why are you telling me all this?”

  “Patience,” says Kidd. “Do you see that red planet?”

  I scan the solar systems until I find the world he’s referring to. It’s massive—easily seven or eight times the size of Earth—and the brightest shade of red I have ever seen.