The Nibiru Effect

The Memory Organizer

The mysterious white glow illuminated the dark, cluttered attic. Will Save Jr. crept forward, each hesitant step lifting a small cloud of dust. His heart beat to the rhythmic pulsating of the cryptic light. He was no coward, yet deep within him, a small voice screamed for him to run. He ignored it and pressed on.

Will Jr. came to a stop less than a metre from the box. It was closed, yet the glow was so intense it seeped through the cardboard.

"Light shouldn't do that," muttered the teenager. He hesitated for a moment before continuing his journey.

One step. His heartbeat quickened. So did the throbbing of the light.

Two steps. His hands trembled, a perfect match for the beating brilliance.

Three steps. He reached the box.

It's not too late, reminded the voice of reason. You can still flee.

"No," muttered Will Jr. "I can't."

Something had drawn him here. It had started with his mother asking him to clean out the attic but had quickly evolved into something else. He had sensed it as soon as he entered the cluttered storage space. It was a feeling unlike any he had ever experienced. It had drawn him deep into the bowels of the dusty attic. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he had found it.

The box.

It had started glowing as soon as he neared it. And now here he stood, debating whether or not to open it.

What would my dad do? he wondered. He did this whenever he encountered a difficult decision. It usually worked.

Not this time.

He took a deep breath and carefully pulled the cardboard flaps apart. The light stopped pulsating and grew brighter. Within seconds, Will Jr. was completely blind. Eyes closed and heart racing, he reached into the box. He felt around in search of the source of the luminescence, but there was nothing to find.

The box was empty.

Will Jr.'s heart sank, but he kept feeling around. He was about to give up when his fingers finally made contact with something. It was a small item with hard, angular edges. It felt cold to the touch. Ignoring the shiver that ran down his spine, Will Jr. carefully extricated the item from its cardboard prison.

The light went out as soon as the item left the confines of the box. One moment Will Jr. was blinded by light; the next he was blinded by darkness. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim ambient lighting. Crystal technology was years ahead of the antiquated fluorescent lighting of the past, yet the diminutive size of the stone that hung from the ceiling left most of the attic bathed in shadows. Still, Will Jr. could easily make out the item nestled in his palm.

It was a wooden chest. The item was no bigger than Will Jr.'s palm and barely twice as thick. Two small hinges and a locking flap kept it shut. A pair of words adorned the lid.

Memory Organizer

"What's a memory organizer?" asked Will Jr., his voice echoing throughout the deserted attic.

Hands still shaking, he unfastened the locking flap and opened the box. Within the padded interior stood eleven silver discs. One was larger than the others and measured five centimetres in diameter. The other ten stood at half that and were arranged in two neat rows of five. A roman numeral had been etched onto the surface of the small discs. The series began at "I" and ended at "X." The large disc—Will Jr. assumed it was the memory organizer—was also engraved, though the symbol it harboured was different.

Will Jr.'s heart skipped a beat at the sight of the two triangles that had been carefully carved into the metallic surface. The first stood with its tip pointing down. Its entire surface had been cut into the metal. The second was merely an outline. The two triangles intersected at the tip, forming an hourglass.