The First Ring
Alex Rivera sat alone in his Seattle apartment.
Rain hammered the window.
His cracked phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Unknown number.
He almost ignored it.
Then he answered.
"Alex?" The voice was his own.
Older. Tired.
"This is you. Twenty years from now."
Alex laughed. Nervously.
"Nice try."
"Tomorrow at 9:17 a.m., your colleague Marcus spills coffee on the server rack. The company loses three days of data."
Click. The line went dead.
Next morning, Alex watched the clock.
9:15. Marcus reached for his cup.
Alex knocked it over first.
"What the hell, man?"
But the server stayed dry.
No data loss.
That afternoon, the same number called again.
"Good. You listened."
Alex's hand shook.
"Who are you really?"
"I'm you, Alex. Before the accident that took Mia."
Silence stretched.
"Next week, Flight 472 crashes at Sea-Tac. Gate 19. Don't let Sarah take it."
Alex stared at the phone.
His dead wife's photo smiled from the shelf.
The voice knew things no stranger could.
He canceled Sarah's ticket that night.
She argued, but he wouldn't budge.
Later, news broke.
Flight 472 suffered engine failure.
Emergency landing. Everyone survived.
But something felt wrong.
The voice sounded too calm about Mia.
Too rehearsed.
Alex paced his dark apartment.
Rain blurred the city lights.
He dialed the number back.
It rang once.
Then a new message appeared on screen.
Not a text.
A timestamp: 2045.
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And a single line: "Don't trust the woman in the lab coat."
Who was watching him from across the street?
