The rain hadn't stopped since morning.
It fell in uneven sheets over the broken rooftops of the old district, turning the narrow streets into shallow rivers of mud and oil.
The smell of wet concrete mixed with smoke from distant generators that struggled to keep the lights of the city alive.
Amara walked through it like she was used to it.
Because she was.
Her slippers slapped against the flooded ground as she crossed the street, holding a thin plastic bag tight against her chest. Inside it were leftover food packs she had managed to get from a small shop that owed her mother a favor.
Not enough for a full meal.
But enough to stop complaints.
Her school bag hung loose on one shoulder, half soaked from the rain. She didn't bother adjusting it. There was no point. Everything got wet in this part of the city anyway.
Neo-Lagos wasn't built for people like her.
It was built for those who could afford to stay dry.
A loud honk cut through the noise of rainfall.
A black car sped past the junction, splashing muddy water onto the roadside. Amara stepped back just in time, her expression unchanged as the vehicle disappeared into the distance.
"Rich idiots," she muttered under her breath.
Then she continued walking.
Her house was still far.
A small structure squeezed between two abandoned buildings. The kind of place you only noticed when you were looking for trouble or poverty.
As she turned into a quieter street, something caught her eye.
A glow.
Soft.
Faint.
Out of place.
Amara slowed down.
The street was almost empty. Only rain, broken signboards, and flickering power lines overhead. Nothing should have been glowing.
But something was.
Near the edge of a flooded gutter.
She stopped.
Stared.
Then frowned.
"…what is that?"
Half-submerged in dirty water was a phone.
Not cracked.
Not damaged.
Just lying there like it didn't belong to this world.
The screen was on.
Bright.
Stable.
No flicker.
That alone was strange.
Every device in this district broke within weeks because of unstable power currents. Even expensive phones failed here.
But this one…
It looked untouched.
Amara looked around.
No one.
Just rain.
She crouched slowly, lowering her bag carefully beside her feet.
Then she reached for it.
The moment her fingers touched the device—
It vibrated.
Amara froze.
Her hand pulled back instinctively.
"That's impossible…"
Phones didn't just vibrate in water like that. Especially not ones that looked like they had been abandoned.
She hesitated for a second.
Then picked it up fully.
The screen lit brighter.
No lock screen.
No brand logo.
Just black background.
Then.
A single notification appeared.
INCOMING MESSAGE
Amara blinked.
"…from who?"
There was no SIM card indicator. No network signal bar. Nothing.
Yet the phone was receiving messages.
Another vibration.
A second message dropped in immediately.
DO NOT GO HOME.
Her expression tightened.
For a moment, she just stared at it.
Then she let out a short laugh.
Not because it was funny.
But because it was ridiculous.
"Is this some kind of prank?"
She turned the phone slightly, inspecting it from different angles. No visible camera. No buttons except the power key. No branding.
Nothing.
Just smooth black glass and impossible functionality.
The phone vibrated again.
This time longer.
Almost impatient.
A new message appeared.
YOU WILL BE ARRESTED IF YOU GO HOME IN 42 MINUTES.
Amara stopped laughing.
The rain around her suddenly felt louder.
She straightened slowly, looking toward the direction of her house in the distance.
Then back at the phone.
Then again at the street.
Nothing unusual.
No police.
No alarms.
No signs of danger.
Just the usual broken district life.
"Okay," she said quietly. "This is definitely a scam."
But her voice didn't sound convinced.
The phone lit up again.
LOADING EVIDENCE…
A video file opened automatically.
Amara didn't tap anything.
It just played.
Her street.
Her exact street.
But from a higher angle.
Like a drone camera.
She saw her house.
The same crooked roof.
Same broken gate.
Everything exactly where it should be.
Except.
There were police vehicles parked outside.
Three of them.
Black uniforms moving around.
People being pulled out.
Shouts.
Confusion.
Chaos.
Amara leaned closer to the screen.
Her eyes narrowed.
Then she saw herself.
Walking down the street.
Exactly the same clothes.
Same bag.
Same posture.
She was walking directly toward the house.
A police officer grabbed her in the video.
She struggled.
The footage shook.
Then.
It cut abruptly.
Amara stepped back slightly.
Just one step.
Not fear.
Calculation.
She looked at the phone again.
Then at the street.
Then at the direction of her home.
"…this is not normal."
The phone vibrated again.
IF YOU ENTER YOUR HOUSE, YOU WILL BE DETAINED AND QUESTIONED FOR ILLEGAL DEVICE POSSESSION.
Amara frowned.
"I don't have any illegal device."
Then she paused.
Her eyes dropped to the phone in her hand.
Silence.
Rain hit the ground harder.
A car horn sounded far away.
Life continued like nothing had changed.
But something had.
Amara's grip tightened slightly.
Not panic.
Not confusion.
Focus.
"Okay," she said slowly. "Let's assume this is real."
She turned away from her house.
Took a step in the opposite direction.
Then another.
The phone vibrated instantly.
GOOD DECISION.
Amara stopped walking.
Her eyes narrowed further.
"…you're watching me."
No response.
Just silence.
Then.
another message.
YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED.
Amara stared at the screen.
The rain around her felt colder now.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
Like the temperature had dropped by a few degrees in an instant.
She slowly raised her head.
Looked around the empty street again.
For the first time.
she checked if anyone was watching her.
Nothing.
Still empty.
Still normal.
But the phone in her hand wasn't normal.
Not even close.
A final message appeared.
NEXT EVENT: 18:00 — DO NOT MISS IT.
Amara exhaled slowly.
Then locked the screen.
The phone didn't lock.
It stayed active.
Waiting.
She tried pressing the power button.
Nothing.
Held it.
Still nothing.
The device was not responding like a normal phone.
It was responding like it had its own intention.
Amara slipped it into her pocket.
Then stopped.
Pulled it back out.
Looked at it again.
"…this thing is not staying with me," she muttered.
She turned toward a drain opening nearby and raised her hand.
Paused.
The phone vibrated again.
One last message.
IF YOU DROP ME, YOU WILL DIE IN 6 HOURS.
Amara froze.
For the first time since she found it she didn't move.
The rain kept falling.
The street stayed empty.
The city stayed loud in the distance.
But right there in that small broken street…
everything felt still.
Amara slowly lowered her hand.
Stared at the phone.
Then placed it back in her pocket.
"…fine," she said quietly.
Then she turned and walked away from the direction of her house.
Not because she believed it.
Not because she trusted it.
But because she understood one thing clearly:
If something was predicting the future this accurately…
then ignoring it would be the stupidest move she could make.
And behind her.
the phone lit up again inside her pocket.
ACCESS GRANTED.