The bedside clock displayed 2:47 AM when Alvik's eyes opened suddenly, dragged from deep sleep by something he could not immediately identify. The room was dark except for the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. Beside him, Meera slept soundly, her breathing slow and even. Nothing seemed wrong, yet his heart beat faster, responding to some unidentified stimulus.
He lay still, listening. The house was quiet. No unusual sounds from outside. No movement from the children's rooms. Just the normal nighttime silence of a residential neighborhood.
Then it came.
The voice.
It filled everything—not just the room or the house, but the entire world. The sound was impossible to describe properly because it seemed to bypass his ears entirely, resonating directly inside his skull, his chest, his bones. Male and female simultaneously, young and ancient, loud yet not deafening. It simply existed everywhere at once.
"Anex Circle coming to world. Ready folks, your journey to find truth begins now."
The words were clear, spoken in a language Alvik understood perfectly despite never having heard anything quite like it before. The voice carried no emotion, no warmth or coldness, just pure information delivered with absolute certainty.
Then silence returned.
Alvik sat up sharply, his entire body tense. Beside him, Meera gasped and jerked awake, clutching the blanket to her chest, eyes wide in the darkness.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered urgently.
"Yes. I heard it."
From down the hall came the sound of running feet. Their bedroom door burst open and Nisha rushed in, her small frame trembling, tears already streaming down her face. She launched herself onto the bed between her parents, wrapping her arms around Alvik's waist.
"Daddy, what was that? I'm scared!"
Alvik pulled her close, his own hands shaking slightly as he stroked her hair. "I don't know, princess. But you're safe. We're all here."
Rayan appeared in the doorway more slowly, trying to maintain teenage composure but failing. His face was pale in the dim light, his hands gripping the door frame for support.
"That wasn't normal," he said, voice unsteady. "That wasn't a sound. It was inside my head."
"Come here," Meera said, reaching for him. Rayan crossed the room and sat on the bed's edge, allowing his mother to put her arm around his shoulders.
The four of them huddled together in the darkness, processing what had just occurred. Outside, car alarms began wailing. Dogs barked frantically throughout the neighborhood. Lights flickered on in houses up and down the street as thousands of people woke to the same impossible experience.
"What did it mean?" Nisha asked, her voice muffled against Alvik's chest. "What's the Anex Circle? What journey?"
"I don't know," Alvik admitted. Lying felt wrong, but the truth was he genuinely had no answers. Nothing in his thirty-eight years of life had prepared him for a voice that spoke inside everyone's mind simultaneously.
Meera reached for the lamp on her nightstand, flooding the room with warm yellow light. The familiar surroundings—their bedroom furniture, family photos on the walls, the pile of clothes on the chair—looked exactly the same as always, yet somehow the world felt fundamentally different now.
"Maybe it was some kind of broadcast?" Rayan suggested, grasping for rational explanations. "Like a prank using technology we don't know about?"
"That would require technology that doesn't exist," Alvik said quietly. "No speaker system can make sound appear inside people's heads."
"Then what was it?" Rayan's voice cracked slightly. "Aliens? Ghosts? What?"
"I don't know, son. I really don't."
From outside came the growing sounds of confused neighbors emerging from their homes. Voices called back and forth across fences and driveways. The sound of television sets being turned on filtered through the walls as people searched for answers.
Alvik gently extracted himself from Nisha's grip and stood, moving to the window. He pulled the curtain aside and looked out at the street. Every house showed lights now. People stood in doorways and on porches, some alone, some in groups, all looking around as if expecting to see something that would explain what had happened.
Mr. Patel from next door stood in his driveway wearing only pajama pants, his phone pressed to his ear, gesturing wildly as he spoke to someone. Mrs. Kumar from across the street had gathered her three children on her front porch, all of them wrapped in blankets despite the warm night air. The Sharma family stood together near their mailbox, the parents holding their young son between them.
"Everyone heard it," Alvik said, still watching the street. "Look at them. Everyone's awake."
Meera had grabbed her phone from the nightstand and was scrolling rapidly. "The internet is going crazy. Social media is flooded with posts about the voice. People from all over the city, all over the country, saying they heard the same thing."
"What are they saying?" Rayan moved to look over her shoulder.
"Everything. Some think it's a prank. Some are calling it a miracle. Some are terrified. The hashtags are already trending worldwide—'AnexCircle,' 'TheVoice,' 'TruthJourney.' Look at this, someone in America posted twenty minutes ago about hearing the same message. Same exact words."
"How is that possible?" Alvik asked, though he expected no answer. The question was rhetorical, directed at the universe itself.
Nisha had stopped crying but remained curled in the center of the bed, watching her family with frightened eyes. "Are we going to die?"
"No, baby," Meera said immediately, setting down her phone to focus on her daughter. "No one's going to die. Something strange happened, but we're all safe right here together."
"But the voice said a journey. What journey? I don't want to go anywhere."
Alvik returned to the bed and sat beside her, taking her small hand in his. "We don't have to go anywhere. This is our home. We're staying right here."
"Promise?"
He hesitated only a fraction of a second before answering. "I promise we'll do everything possible to keep you safe."
Rayan had taken his mother's phone and was scrolling through news feeds. "Dad, look at this. The government issued a statement. They're saying not to panic, that they're investigating."
"Let me see." Alvik took the phone. The official government website had posted an emergency announcement:
"EMERGENCY NOTICE: At approximately 2:47 AM local time, citizens nationwide reported experiencing an auditory phenomenon of unknown origin. The government is currently investigating this incident with all available resources. There is no evidence of any immediate threat to public safety. Citizens are advised to remain calm, stay in their homes, and await further information. Emergency services remain fully operational. Updates will be provided as information becomes available."
"They don't know anything either," Alvik said, handing the phone back to Meera.
"Should we turn on the television?" Rayan asked. "The news channels must be covering this."
Meera glanced at Nisha, then at Alvik. He understood her concern—exposing their youngest to whatever panic might be unfolding on screen could make things worse. But they needed information, and the children were already frightened. Hiding reality might cause more harm than facing it together.
"Yes, turn it on," he decided. "We should know what's happening."
They moved as a family unit to the living room. Alvik turned on the television while Meera and the children settled on the couch, Nisha positioned between her parents, Rayan sitting close on his mother's other side. The screen came to life showing a news channel anchor who looked distinctly shaken despite professional training.
"—reports continue to flood in from every corner of the globe," the anchor was saying, reading from notes while simultaneously listening to something through her earpiece. "The phenomenon occurred simultaneously worldwide at 2:47 AM Indian Standard Time, or adjusted to local times in other regions. Every person who was conscious at that moment reports hearing identical words: 'Anex Circle coming to world. Ready folks, your journey to find truth begins now.' Governments worldwide have issued similar statements urging calm while investigations proceed. We're going to go live now to our correspondent in New Delhi who is outside the parliament building. Rajesh, what can you tell us?"
The screen switched to a reporter standing in front of the illuminated parliament building. Behind him, crowds of people had gathered despite the early morning hour, many holding phones recording the scene, others simply standing and talking in animated groups.
"Thank you, Priya. The scene here is one of controlled confusion. As you can see, hundreds of citizens have gathered, looking for answers or perhaps just seeking comfort in numbers. Parliament officials have confirmed that an emergency session will convene within the next two hours. I've spoken to several people in the crowd, and the consensus is clear—everyone heard the same voice, described in remarkably similar terms. Many report the sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. Scientists I've spoken with are at a complete loss to explain how such a phenomenon could occur. Some are speculating about advanced technology, others about natural phenomena we don't yet understand. Religious leaders are also weighing in, with some calling it a divine message while others urge caution against jumping to supernatural conclusions."
The anchor interrupted. "Rajesh, are there any reports of physical effects? Anyone injured or harmed by this experience?"
"So far, no reports of direct physical harm, Priya. However, there have been numerous accidents as people woke suddenly or panicked. Car accidents from startled drivers, some minor injuries from people falling or running into things in the dark. Emergency services are requesting people to stay calm and remain in their homes if possible to prevent further incident-related injuries."
The broadcast continued, cutting between the studio anchor and various correspondents positioned around the country and world. Each reported essentially the same story—universal experience, universal confusion, no answers.
Alvik watched in silence, his mind working through implications. If everyone on Earth had heard this voice, then whatever caused it possessed capabilities beyond anything humanity had achieved. The energy required, the precision needed, the sheer impossibility of it suggested forces or technologies far beyond current understanding.
"Look," Rayan pointed at the screen. "They're showing social media posts."
The television displayed a scrolling feed of messages from around the world, all time-stamped within minutes of each other:
"Heard it in Tokyo. Everyone in the subway car stopped moving. Never seen anything like it."
"Buenos Aires checking in. Same message, same time adjusted for timezone. My entire apartment building is in the courtyard trying to make sense of this."
"London here. My wife and I both heard it. Our dog went crazy. What's happening?"
"Moscow reporting. The voice spoke in Russian to me. My friend says she heard it in Ukrainian. How is that possible?"
That detail caught Alvik's attention. "Did you notice? The voice spoke to everyone in their own language."
Meera's eyes widened. "You're right. I heard it in Hindi. Did you?"
"I heard it in Hindi too, but I wasn't thinking about language at the moment. Rayan, what about you?"
"Hindi for me," Rayan confirmed. "That's impossible, right? How can one voice speak every language simultaneously?"
"Everything about this is impossible," Alvik said quietly.
The news broadcast continued bringing in experts—physicists, psychologists, religious scholars, military analysts—all offering theories that ranged from plausible to absurd. None had concrete answers. The most honest responses came from scientists who simply admitted this exceeded current human knowledge.
One physicist, appearing via video call, spoke carefully: "If we take reports at face value, what occurred suggests either technology far beyond our capabilities or a phenomenon we have no framework to understand. The simultaneous global experience, the individual language translation, the internal perception rather than external sound—all of these characteristics defy known physics. We must gather more data and resist premature conclusions."
"But what should people do?" the anchor pressed. "Should they be afraid?"
"Fear without information is pointless. The message itself, while cryptic, contained no explicit threat. 'Anex Circle coming to world' and 'journey to find truth' are ambiguous phrases. Until we have more information, panic serves no purpose. People should remain calm, stay informed, and follow guidance from authorities."
Nisha had fallen asleep against Alvik's shoulder, exhausted by fear and the late hour. Rayan was still watching the screen intently, absorbing every detail. Meera sat with her arms wrapped around herself, occasionally checking her phone for updates from friends and family members.
The television continued its coverage, repeating the same information in different words, showing the same scenes of confused crowds and worried officials. Gradually, a pattern emerged in the reporting—initial shock giving way to speculation, fear mixing with curiosity, panic slowly being replaced by a strange anticipation.
What was the Anex Circle? When would it arrive? What did "journey to find truth" mean? The questions dominated every conversation, every social media post, every news discussion.
Around 5 AM, as dawn approached, the news ticker at the bottom of the screen began showing breaking developments:
"BREAKING: Strange circular formations appearing in the sky worldwide. More details coming."
Alvik leaned forward. "What is that about?"
The anchor had received the same information. "We're getting reports now of unusual phenomena being observed in the sky. We're going to go live to Mumbai where our correspondent is witnessing something unusual. Kavita, what are you seeing?"
The screen showed a reporter standing on what appeared to be a rooftop, the pre-dawn sky visible behind her. She pointed upward, and the camera tilted to follow her gesture.
There, hanging in the eastern sky, was a circle.
It looked like a ring drawn in the air with light, perfectly round, maybe fifty meters in diameter from that distance, positioned high above the city. The circle glowed with a soft blue radiance, not blinding but clearly visible against the dark sky. It simply floated there, stationary, impossible.
"As you can see," the reporter said, her voice tight with barely controlled excitement or fear, "there is a luminous circular formation in the sky above Mumbai. It appeared approximately five minutes ago. Similar reports are coming in from cities worldwide. These circles are being observed everywhere, and early observations suggest they might be related to the voice phenomenon from several hours ago."
The broadcast split screen, showing similar images from other cities. Tokyo had a circle. London had one. New York, Sydney, Cairo, Moscow—everywhere the dawn was breaking or had broken, these impossible circles hung in the sky.
"Wake up, princess," Alvik said gently, shaking Nisha's shoulder. "Something else is happening."
Nisha stirred, rubbing her eyes. "What?"
"Look at the television."
They watched together as more information came in. The circles were worldwide, positioned above major population centers and also randomly over rural areas. Their sizes varied—some small, some massive. All shared the same soft blue glow, the same perfect circular shape.
Meera clutched Alvik's arm. "This is really happening. Whatever that voice was, it wasn't a prank or a hallucination. It's real."
"Should we go outside and look?" Rayan asked, already moving toward the window.
"Stay here," Alvik said firmly. "We don't know what those things are or if they're dangerous."
But curiosity overcame caution. They moved as a family to the front window and looked out. The sky was lightening with approaching dawn, and there, visible above the city skyline in the distance, hung one of the circles. It was smaller than the ones shown on television, maybe twenty meters across, but unmistakably the same phenomenon.
Outside, their neighbors had noticed too. People emerged from houses again, pointing at the sky, taking photos with phones, calling to each other. The street filled with voices mixing wonder and fear.
"What's inside the circle?" Nisha asked, pressing her face against the window glass. "It looks empty."
She was right. The circle itself glowed blue, but the space within showed only normal sky, as if looking through a window frame at nothing particular.
The news continued its coverage, now focused entirely on the circles. Military sources reported attempting to approach several of the formations with aircraft, but as planes drew close, the circles simply moved away, maintaining distance while remaining visible. Ground-based attempts to reach circles positioned lower also failed—they floated just out of reach, rising higher if anyone tried to get too close.
Scientists offered observations without conclusions. The circles emitted light but no detectable radiation. They had no measurable mass. They moved when approached but otherwise remained stationary relative to the ground below. No one could explain what they were made of, how they maintained position, or what purpose they served.
Religious leaders appeared on screen offering various interpretations. Some called them signs of divine intervention. Others warned they might be demonic. Most urged their followers to remain faithful and await understanding.
Social media continued its explosion of theories, jokes, fears, and observations. The hashtags evolved: "AnexCircles," "SkyRings," "BlueCircles," "WhatIsHappening."
Alvik checked his phone and found dozens of messages from friends, family, and business associates. His parents had called multiple times. Vikram from work had sent several worried messages. The Malhotras had texted asking if he and his family were safe.
He called his parents first. His mother answered immediately, her voice strained with worry.
"Alvik! Thank God! Are you all safe? Is Meera okay? The children?"
"We're all fine, Ma. Did you hear the voice too?"
"Everyone heard it! Your father and I were so frightened. And now these circles in the sky! What's happening to the world?"
"I don't know, Ma. No one knows. But we're safe in the house. You and Papa should stay inside too."
"We're not going anywhere! But Alvik, I'm scared. That voice said something is coming. What if it's dangerous?"
"The voice didn't say anything specifically threatening," he tried to reassure her, though his own certainty wavered. "It mentioned a journey and finding truth. We just need to wait for more information."
They talked for a few more minutes, Alvik offering comfort while also seeking it from his parents. Eventually they agreed to keep in touch regularly and stay informed through the news.
He made similar calls to other family members and sent messages to worried friends and colleagues. Everyone had the same questions, and no one had answers.
By 7 AM, the sun had risen fully, and the circle above their city became less visible in the bright morning light but remained present as a faint blue outline against the sky. The television news had settled into a pattern of repetitive coverage—the voice, the circles, expert speculation, government statements, eyewitness accounts.
"We should eat something," Meera said, always practical even in crisis. "Life continues regardless of mysterious voices and sky circles. The children need breakfast."
They moved to the kitchen, maintaining some semblance of normalcy. Meera cooked eggs and toast while Alvik made tea. The children sat at the table, subdued and quiet, occasionally glancing toward the window where the circle was visible in the distance.
"Are we going to school today?" Rayan asked.
Meera checked her phone. "The schools have announced closures for today while authorities assess the situation. You're both staying home."
"What about your work, Dad?" Nisha asked.
"I'll call the office, but I suspect we'll close today too. No one will be thinking about business after last night."
The normalcy of breakfast helped somewhat. Eating familiar food at their familiar table, following familiar routines—it provided anchor points against the strangeness unfolding outside. They didn't discuss the voice or the circles while eating, allowing the children a brief respite from fear.
After breakfast, they returned to the living room where the television continued its coverage. The government had issued a second statement, urging people to continue with their daily lives as much as possible while remaining alert to further developments. Schools and many businesses would close today as a precaution, but there was no reason to believe immediate danger threatened.
"They don't know what else to say," Alvik observed. "How do you prepare people for something you don't understand?"
The day passed in a strange suspended state. They watched the news, checked social media, talked among themselves, watched the circle in the distant sky. Neighbors gathered in small groups throughout the day, sharing observations and theories. Some people treated it as an exciting mystery. Others remained deeply frightened.
By late afternoon, nothing had changed. The circles remained. No new voice spoke. No catastrophe occurred. The world continued turning, just with impossible glowing circles now hanging in the sky like strange decorations.
"Maybe nothing else will happen," Rayan suggested. "Maybe this is it—just a weird event that no one will ever explain."
"Maybe," Alvik said, but something in his gut told him otherwise. The voice had announced something coming, a journey beginning. This felt like a starting point, not an ending.
As evening approached, they gathered for dinner—another normal meal in increasingly abnormal circumstances. Meera had cooked rice and curry, and they ate together while the television played quietly in the background.
"Daddy," Nisha said suddenly. "If we do have to go on a journey, will we stay together?"
Alvik met Meera's eyes across the table. He saw his own worry reflected there. How could he promise something when he didn't know what they were facing?
"We'll do everything possible to stay together," he said carefully. "But Nisha, we don't even know if there really is a journey. The voice was strange, but maybe it didn't mean what we think it meant."
"But what if it did?"
"Then we'll face it together. Our family is strong. We take care of each other."
She seemed satisfied with that answer, returning her attention to her food. But the question lingered in the room, unspoken but present in everyone's mind.
What came next?
Night fell again, bringing the circle into clearer visibility as the blue glow stood out against the darkness. The world went to bed that second night with more questions than answers, waiting to see what dawn would bring.
Alvik lay in bed beside Meera, both of them awake despite the late hour. Outside their window, the distant circle glowed steadily.
"I'm scared," Meera whispered into the darkness.
"Me too," Alvik admitted.
"For the children especially. Nisha is so young. And Rayan tries to be strong, but he's still just fourteen."
"I know."
"Promise me something," she said, rolling to face him though they could barely see each other in the dark. "Promise me that whatever happens, we protect them first. Before ourselves, before anything else."
"I promise," he said without hesitation. "Whatever comes, we keep them safe."
They held each other in the darkness, finding comfort in physical closeness while the world outside grew stranger. Tomorrow might bring answers or more questions. The mysterious Anex Circle might arrive, whatever it was. The journey might begin.
But tonight, they were still just Alvik and Meera Naveer, lying in their own bed in their own home, holding each other against an uncertain future.
The blue circle glowed outside their window like a watching eye.
And the world waited.
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