I slam my fist against the crystalline console, watching helplessly as energy signatures pulse across the holographic display. The data streams confirm what I had dreaded – these aren’t divine manifestations, but calculated attacks using our own technology. My brother Enlil’s handiwork is unmistakable in every reading.

“Cross-reference temporal anomalies with reported miracle sites,” I command the system. The correlation makes my blood run cold. Each of Moses’ supposed acts of God perfectly matches the energy signature of Anunnaki weapons systems.

Through my drone’s eye view, I watch another family abandon their home along the Nile. A mother clutches her infant to her chest while two small children trail behind, tears streaming down their dust-covered faces. The father carries what little they could salvage. My chest tightens at their suffering – innocent pawns in Enlil’s cruel game.

“My Lord Thoth,” Amenhotep’s voice breaks through my dark thoughts. “The eastern quarter reports more casualties. The water… it’s killing them.”

“Deploy the purification crystals as we discussed,” I tell him. “Have Kahmeni’s team distribute them discreetly. The people must believe it’s their own ingenuity saving them.”

I activate my secure channel to the network of priests I’ve carefully cultivated. “Imhotep, status report.”

“The healing herbs are ready, my lord. But we’re overwhelmed. For every family we help, dozens more suffer. Even with Merneith’s enhanced formulas, we can’t produce enough.”

“Double the production. Use the underground chambers.” I pause, considering the risks. “And send Nefertari to the Palace. Her medical knowledge is needed there.”

“My lord, twelve priests against this devastation…” Imhotep’s voice trails off.

“I know.” The weight of inadequacy crushes my spirit. “But we must try. Every life saved matters.”

I watch another wave of refugees through the drone feed. My brother’s savage efficiency in causing such widespread suffering makes my jaw clench. These are not the actions of a divine being, but a calculated military campaign using our most advanced weapons against a defenseless population.

I guide my cloaked drone silently above the Hebrew encampment, its sensors piercing through the gathering dusk. Moses stands atop a crude platform, his arms raised as he addresses the crowd. My enhanced vision catches the telltale shimmer beneath his skin – the microscopic network of nanobots coursing through his veins. My stomach churns at the sight.

“The Lord our God has spoken!” Moses’ voice booms across the assembled masses. “Tomorrow we march toward the promised land!”

The people fall to their knees in reverence, but I see only victims of my brother’s cruel manipulation. The nanobots pulse in perfect synchronization with Moses’ heightened emotional state – Enlil’s control is complete.

I reposition the drone, following Moses as he retreats to his private tent. He kneels in the darkness, head bowed in apparent prayer. Suddenly, the air before him shimmers with familiar energy patterns. A massive figure materializes – a holographic projection I instantly recognize as Ya-hé’s handiwork. The technical signature is unmistakable.

“My faithful servant,” the projection’s voice resonates with artificial depth. “You have done well.”

My hands clench into fists as I watch this masterful deception unfold. The “divine” light emanating from the flames comes from precisely calibrated photon emitters. The thunderous voice uses the same acoustic technology we once used to command armies. This is not divine intervention – it’s advanced military hardware perverted into tools of manipulation.

A radar alarm pulls my attention to another sensor feed. My blood runs cold as I detect them – a swarm of micro-drones moving through the Egyptian quarter with deadly purpose. These are not angels of death, but machines programmed for genocide. Their payload: an engineered virus targeting the young.

I race my drone through darkened streets, my heart pounding. The swarm approaches from the north, a barely visible cloud of metallic death. I’ve seen this technology before – we developed it for crop management on Nibiru. But Enlil has twisted it into something monstrous.

I guide my drone into the palace’s grand hall, my heart heavy as I witness Pharaoh’s devastating loss. His shoulders shake with silent sobs as he clutches his firstborn’s lifeless body. The boy’s skin still holds warmth, but the engineered virus has already completed its grotesque work.

“My son… my precious son…” Pharaoh’s whispered words echo through the chamber.

Enlil has orchestrated this perfectly. Each “plague” precisely calibrated, each suffering strategically inflicted, all building to this moment of absolute devastation. The Pharaoh’s spirit breaks before my eyes, exactly as my brother calculated.

This is the bitter fruit of my arrival on this planet. I came bearing gifts of knowledge and technology, dreaming of partnership with these remarkable beings. Instead, my presence opened the door for Enlil’s machinations. My brother twisted everything I built, corrupted every system I designed, turned my legacy of enlightenment into tools of oppression.

I am no protector. I am the harbinger who brought this catastrophe to their world.

I press my palm against the cool stone wall, whispering an ancient Nibiruan prayer of mourning. Not just for the dead child in his father’s arms, but for all the children of Earth whose future I’ve inadvertently darkened. Enlil has won…