After the Blackout the party never recovered.
No one laughed. No one danced. No music dared to continue. Glasses lay shattered on the floor like fallen stars. Guests stumbled toward the exits, gripping friends and strangers alike, their eyes wide with disbelief, their minds replaying the blackout over and over.
David led Ada down the stairs, her small hand holding his tightly. Skywhite and Gift followed, their expressions muted. Mmeso and Divine were just behind, still moving carefully, almost as if they feared touching the walls might break reality again.
Outside, the cool Banana Island night air felt different. Heavier. Thicker. Charged, though he couldn't explain why. Cars honked nervously in the distance as drivers and passengers alike tried to reconcile what had happened with the normalcy of the night.
The streets were chaotic but orderly. No one had yet understood that the blackout had been global, affecting everyone. Phones lit up everywhere with the same unrelenting countdown. People stared at them in panic. Messages were unreadable. Calls went unanswered. Social media exploded with confusion, fear, and disbelief.
David's mind raced. He had expected questions, explanations, some immediate threat—but nothing made sense. The system had shown them a countdown, a precise measure of time. Yet it had said nothing else.
Back in his car, Ada clung to him quietly. "David… will it hurt us?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer immediately. He didn't know. All he knew was that the bracelet felt heavier now, like it carried weight he hadn't noticed before.
"Let's just get home first," he said finally, keeping his voice calm, though his chest felt tight.
Government Response
By the time the world slept—or tried to—the governments of every nation were already in crisis mode.
In Nigeria, the President addressed the nation via live broadcast. His normally composed face was strained, his eyes betraying tension that words could not hide.
"Fellow citizens," he said, voice steady but carrying a tremor, "earlier tonight, the nation experienced an unprecedented, simultaneous blackout that affected every single citizen across the country. Reports indicate this phenomenon was global in scale. No one was harmed physically, but we are aware of widespread psychological impact. Authorities are investigating the source and will provide updates as soon as possible. Citizens are advised to remain calm."
The broadcast cut to emergency experts and scientists, each trying to make sense of a phenomenon that did not conform to known physics or technology. Computers displayed the same countdown David had seen—29 days, 23 hours, 56 minutes…
News networks speculated. Social media exploded. Rumors of alien technology, cyberterrorism, mass hallucinations, and apocalyptic events flooded the internet.
But the system remained silent.
No explanation. No rules. Only the countdown.
And somewhere deep in David's chest, a faint sensation stirred—like something waiting.
Something watching.
Something preparing.
For all the chaos in the streets, all the speculation on TV and phones, all the fear and panic spreading around the world…
David understood one thing clearly: the countdown was real.
And it was relentless.