The Nibiru Effect

Memory 57

I awake feeling rested. I slowly sit up and glance around, expecting to witness the now familiar sight of tall trees and other various prehistoric plants. What I discover is far more troubling.

I'm back at the orphanage.

The dormitory is bathed in shadows, but moonlight seeps in through the windows that line the walls, illuminating the rows of beds that make up the room's only furniture. I can make out the shapes of sleeping orphans, nestled beneath their matching covers. All but one bed are occupied.

I recognize the small cot as soon as I lay eyes on it. It's mine. That is, it used to be until I outgrew it. Its presence here perplexes me until I remember I've been gone for weeks. Grace must have given up on me and assigned a new orphan to my sleeping quarters, no doubt replacing my adult bed with a more suitable child's cot.

I'm torn. Part of me feels betrayed that Grace gave up on me so quickly, yet at the same time, I'm thrilled to be back in my own time. I have no idea how it happened, but I couldn't care less. I'm back, and that's all that matters.

I'm about to head off in search of Grace when I notice the bed next to mine has also been replaced. Instead of the adult bed I'm accustomed to, I find a small cot with a child of around six sound asleep beneath the covers. She looks familiar, but it's not until I take a closer look that I understand why.

It's Angela. Seeing her here shouldn't surprise me as we've been slumber neighbours for the past twelve years. However, the last time I saw her, she was a teenager. Now, she's a mere child.

I take a closer look, hoping to find I was mistaken and the sleeping child isn't, in fact, Angela. But further scrutiny only confirms my initial assumption.

What's happening?

I look around and notice details I have, up until now, failed to take into account. The walls and ceiling were just painted. The tiles that line the floor are still intact, indicating they've only just been installed. Even the beds look new—well, newer than the last time I was here. This can only mean one thing.

I'm in the past.

I don't know how it happened, but I'm determined to find out. I reach out with the firm intention of waking young Angela, but what unfolds is far more shocking.

"Oh my god!" I gasp as my hand goes right through the sleeping child's shoulder. I jump back and stare at my hand. It looks normal. I feel it, just to make sure, but it's as real as it's always been.

I try touching Angela again, but like before, she remains out of reach. As does everything else around me.

"What the hell is going on?" I mutter.

I'm not in the past. If I were, I would be able to interact with my surroundings. But then where am I? When am I?

It takes a while, but I eventually come up with an explanation that makes sense.

I'm dreaming.

I'm relieved to discover I'm not a ghost but disappointed I'm not really back in my own time. Still, I plan on enjoying every moment of this strange dream.

I venture out of the dormitory, walking through whatever stands in my path without a care in the world. I investigate the building's many rooms but find nothing of interest until I enter the kitchen.

It's nighttime, so the kitchen is closed, but it's far from deserted.

A child sits at a table. A birthday cake with five extinguished candles stands before him, yet he's crying. I don't understand why until I notice how familiar the child looks.

It's me.

It takes a while before I grasp the meaning of the discovery.

This isn't a dream. It's a memory. The cause for my presence still remains a mystery, but I'm finally starting to make sense of what I'm seeing.

I remember this day like it was yesterday. It was my fifth birthday. As always, Grace had snuck me out of the dormitory and led me to the kitchen for a special birthday surprise. I still don't know why Grace treated me so differently than all the other kids, but I find myself missing her as I stare at my five-year-old crying self.

Does she think of me? Does she suspect what happened to me or does she choose to believe I was successfully reunited with my mother?

I miss Grace even more when she enters the kitchen, holding a box of tissues. She's younger, but that's normal. She approaches my five-year-old self and hands him a tissue.

Young Will wipes his tear-stained cheeks and blows his nose. His eyes are still red, but he's no longer crying.

"They're not coming, are they?" asks Young Will, looking up at Grace. "They're never coming."

"Don't give up. There's always hope."

I know she means well, yet I also know her words of encouragement do nothing to ebb the pain my younger self feels. Why? Because that was the moment I realized no amount of wishing or hoping would bring my parents back. I was an orphan, and I would remain one of the rest of my life. At least that's what I thought at the time. But I soon forget all about that when I notice the package hidden behind Grace's back.

I immediately recognize it. It's the very same package she gave me on my fifteenth birthday, the one that contained the letter and the ring left for me by my mother. At first, I don't understand why she has it, but then it hits me.

She was planning on giving it to me. She must have felt guilty about how upset I got when my birthday wish failed to come true and decided to give it to me earlier than was asked of her. As I stare at the present, I can't help wondering why I didn't receive it until a few weeks ago.

"They're not coming back," says Young Will. Only this time he's not asking. He's stating a fact. I can tell by his resolute expression and tear-filled eyes he has finally accepted the fact that his parents are never coming back.

"You don't know—" begins Grace as she gets ready to give my younger self the present.

"Yes, I do!" yells Young Will as he jumps up. He scurries around Grace and hurries out of the kitchen, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Grace stands there for a few seconds, stunned. She stares at the present she failed to deliver, sets it down, and hurries off in pursuit of my younger self. I consider following her, but I already know what will happen. Five-Year-Old Will will run back to his bed and hide under the covers. Grace will try to console him for a few minutes, then failing to succeed, she will leave. Young Will will continue to cry until his tired little body gives out and he falls asleep.

I stare at the present. It's such an innocuous-looking thing, yet I can't help wondering how my life would have turned out if I hadn't run off that night. What if Grace had given me the present? What would have happened? Would I still be here right now or would that one small detail have completely altered my childhood? I guess I'll never know.

Suddenly, and for noparticular reason, the world around me flickers out of sight. One second I'm staringat the present that threw my entire life into chaos,and the next I'm standing in total darkness.