Titans

The Genesis [01:00]

Location: Unknown

I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much black. Below me, my feet press up against solid ground but I can’t see it. There’s no differentiating between the black of the ground and the black of the sky – or what I’m assuming is the sky. I may as well be floating in outer space.

But no, if I was in space, there wouldn’t be any gravity, and there’d be stars. There’d be the Sun and the Earth and the Moon, and the other planets, all lined up in their neat little orbits. Yet there are no planets here, and the ground beneath me is solid, holding me down. I must be in some sort of room.

Going along with that assumption, I walk forward, hands outstretched, ready to hit a wall. With every step, I brace myself for some sort of impact but nothing comes, and I keep going, feeling around blindly in the night. Anxiety soon starts to build within me, and I feel my heart speed up, beating in the clutches of fear. I’ve been walking for minutes. Either I’m in a really big room, or there’s something very wrong here.

Just then, my foot catches on something protruding from the ground and I fall face-first, getting a mouth full of dirt. It tastes thick and smoky – like ash – and I gag. I cough and spit, forcing the substance out of my mouth. It seems to have developed an attachment to the cheeks of my mouth and the walls of my throat, and when I roll my tongue across my teeth, they taste like the rotten aftermath of fire.

Ignoring the taste for now, I push myself up, dusting the dirt off my hands and arms. I wish I could see something. I wish I could look at the ground and say, that’s dirt and that’s a rock. I wish I could look up and say with complete certainty, that’s the sky. But with nothing but darkness invading my vision, I can’t know anything for sure.

And as I follow that thought, I realise with a start that I don’t know anything, and a knife of fear strikes my heart. I don’t where I am, when I am, or even who I am. When I prod my mind, no memories come surging up in response, and I feel unnervingly hollow. How did I get here? Where did I come from? Is this even real?

But something does rise out of the void then: a name. My name. Merc.

Merc, short for Mercury. I don’t know how I know it’s my name, but I do. That’s who I am, everything I know bundled up into one word. It’s terrifying.

Suddenly, a scream pierces the darkness and I freeze, icy terror racing through my blood. It’s girl’s voice – that much I can be sure of – but it doesn’t sound quite right, as if it’s been warped by the night. My every instinct tells me to turn around and run, even if I can’t know where I’m going, even if I’ve nowhere to go.

But when the scream comes again – more of cry this time – I ignore all that and head towards the sound. What if I’m not the only one walking lost and confused through the dark? What if they have answers?

“Hello?” I shout as I jog towards the sound of crying. The ground is rough and uneven, and a breeze I hadn’t noticed earlier whips around me. I’m definitely not in a room.

“Is there anyone there?” I say, fighting to keep my voice even. The crying stops and silence descends. A shiver runs down my spine. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

Another lengthy silence. Then the girl’s voice comes again, closer this time. “Over here,” she says, and I can hear the tears in her words. She sounds afraid.

I head towards her, raising my hands out in front of me again in case I run into her. “Where?” I ask. The darkness is ever-present, wrapping me in its thick arms. Even the air feels heavy with night.

“Here,” she says weakly, but her voice is slightly more composed now. “This way.”

She must be only metres away. I walk slowly, and then my hand hits something soft – an arm.

I feel her jump. “Who are you?” I ask.

She places a hand on the one I have on her arm and then moves under my touch, holding onto me tightly. Her fingers dig into my wrist but I don’t pull away.

“I think – I think I’m Atara,” she says, and her voice is thick with fear. But there’s something else now as well: relief. She’s relieved that she isn’t alone anymore, and relieved that I turned out to be a person, not just a figment of her imagination. And I know this, because I feel the same.

“I’m Merc,” I say, and I realise how right it sounds, despite having just learnt the name minutes ago.

Atara’s grip loosens as she calms. “Where are we?” she asks, and I imagine that if I could see her, there’d be tears running silently down her cheeks.

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly.

I hear her let out a breath. “You only know your name,” she says sadly, quietly. She must have been hoping I had answers, just as I hoped the same of her.

I nod, even though I know she can’t see it. “I only know my name.”