The rain outside Ethan Zhao's apartment window sounded like a ticking clock.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Every drop reminded him that time was running out.
He stared at the email on his laptop screen for the third time.
We regret to inform you that your application has not been successful.
Another rejection.
That made twenty-three this month.
Ethan leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. The tiny apartment smelled faintly of instant noodles and cheap coffee. A stack of unpaid bills sat on the corner of his desk like silent judges.
Rent due in three days.
Bank balance: $214.36
His laptop fan whined loudly, struggling to stay alive just like its owner.
"Great," Ethan muttered. "At this rate I'll be homeless before graduation."
He closed the email and opened a job site again, scrolling through listings he had already seen a hundred times.
Entry-level position — 3 years experience required.
He laughed bitterly.
"How does that even make sense?"
His phone buzzed suddenly on the desk.
Ethan glanced at it lazily.
Probably another spam message.
But when he picked it up, something felt strange.
There was no contact name.
Just a number he had never seen before.
Unknown Sender
The message preview appeared.
If you're reading this, it means the plan worked.
Ethan frowned.
"What plan?"
He opened the message.
The full text appeared.
If you're reading this, it means the plan worked.I'm you… ten years in the future.
Ethan blinked.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Okay, that's a new one."
He typed a reply.
Who is this?
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Then another message arrived.
You won't believe me yet. That's expected.
Ethan leaned back in his chair.
Somebody was definitely messing with him.
Probably one of his friends from university.
He typed again.
Very funny. Which one of you idiots is this?
Three dots appeared again.
Another message came.
Look at the Bitcoin price tomorrow at 9:30 AM.
Ethan stared at the screen.
"…What?"
The message continued.
It will jump exactly 18%.
Ethan frowned.
Crypto predictions?
Now he was certain it was a prank.
He typed again.
Right. And you're future me?
The reply came almost instantly.
Yes.
Ethan shook his head.
"People have too much free time."
He tossed the phone onto the desk and stood up, stretching.
The room was cramped — barely big enough for the desk, bed, and tiny kitchenette. Outside, the city lights flickered through the rain-streaked window.
Ethan walked to the fridge.
Empty.
He opened the freezer.
One frozen dumpling package.
"Dinner of champions," he muttered.
His phone buzzed again behind him.
Ethan ignored it at first.
But curiosity got the better of him.
He walked back and picked it up.
Another message had arrived.
You currently have $214.36 in your bank account.
Ethan froze.
His eyes narrowed.
"How…?"
He had never told anyone that number.
Slowly, he typed a reply.
Who are you?
The response appeared immediately.
I already told you.
Another message followed.
I'm you.
Ethan felt a strange chill crawl up his spine.
He forced himself to laugh.
"Okay, that's creepy."
He typed again.
Prove it.
The typing dots appeared.
A few seconds passed.
Then the reply came.
You have a scar on your left knee from when you fell off your bike when you were nine.
Ethan's hand stopped moving.
Slowly, he looked down at his knee.
The faint white scar was still there.
His heart skipped once.
"…Lucky guess."
He typed again.
Anyone could guess that.
Another message arrived.
Your password for most websites is "Phoenix17".
Ethan's fingers went completely still.
That wasn't a guess.
Nobody knew that password.
Not even his closest friends.
His heart began beating faster.
Before he could reply, another message appeared.
Now do you believe me?
Ethan stared at the screen for several seconds.
Rain tapped steadily against the window.
The room suddenly felt much quieter.
Finally he typed.
If you're really me, why are you texting from the future?
The response came slower this time.
Almost thirty seconds passed.
Then the message appeared.
Because the world is going to collapse.
Ethan blinked.
"…What?"
Another message arrived.
And you're the only one who can stop it.
Ethan let out a long breath.
"Okay. That's enough internet for today."
He dropped the phone back onto the desk.
Clearly some hacker was messing with him.
Or maybe someone had guessed his passwords somehow.
Either way, he wasn't playing along.
He shut his laptop and walked toward his bed.
But just as he lay down, the phone buzzed again.
Ethan groaned.
"Seriously?"
He grabbed the phone and glanced at the screen.
Another message.
Shorter this time.
You don't need to believe me.
Ethan rolled his eyes.
Good. Because I don't.
He hit send.
Three seconds later, the final message appeared.
Then check the Bitcoin price tomorrow.
Ethan snorted.
He tossed the phone onto the pillow beside him.
"Sure."
Outside, thunder rumbled softly over the city.
Within minutes, exhaustion pulled him toward sleep.
The phone screen slowly dimmed in the darkness.
But just before it turned off completely…
One final message appeared.
If you don't trust me…
A second line appeared beneath it.
Stay poor.
Ethan didn't see it.
But tomorrow morning…
Everything would change.