The Last Message From the Future

The last message was sent after the city went silent

It started with a power flicker.

Not enough to shut things down.

Just enough to remind everyone how fragile the system really was.

In the upper districts, lights came back instantly.

In my sector, they hesitated.

I lived where the network lagged.

Where updates arrived late.

Where glitches weren’t bugs but part of daily life.

People like me learned to read silence.

That night the city breathed strangely.

Drones slowed.

Screens froze mid‑advertisement.

The air felt heavier, like waiting for thunder.

Then my tablet lit up.

Unknown sender — timestamp five minutes in the future.

I frowned.

The message read.

The blackout begins at 23:41.

Your building collapses at 23:44.

You do not make it out.

I stared at the clock.

23:32.

Glitches happened all the time.

But future timestamps didn’t.

I closed the message.

Opened it again.

Still there.

Another buzz.

Run now.

Do not use the elevators.

Stairs only.

Do not stop for anyone.

My chest tightened.

Across the hall, laughter drifted from my neighbor’s apartment.

Kids playing.

Life continuing like nothing was wrong.

I grabbed my jacket.

The lights flickered again.

Longer this time.

My tablet vibrated.

Two minutes left.

I moved.

The stairwell smelled like dust and warm metal.

Emergency lights hummed weakly.

Halfway down, a woman stumbled out from the fourth floor.

Blood ran from her forehead.

Help me she whispered.

Every instinct screamed to stop.

The tablet vibrated.

Do not stop.

If you stop you die.

My legs shook.

I stepped past her.

Her hand brushed my sleeve.

Cold.

Too cold.

Behind me something crashed.

I didn’t look back.

The building groaned like an animal in pain.

At the third floor landing the lights went out completely.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Then the roar came.

Concrete splitting.

Steel snapping.

I sprinted.

The exit door burst open just as the floor behind me collapsed inward.

Wind and dust threw me across the pavement.

The blackout hit.

The entire city went silent.

No drones.

No screens.

No hum of electricity.

Just screaming.

I lay there coughing, heart hammering.

My tablet glowed faintly.

Final message received.

You survived because you listened.

Hands shaking, I typed back.

Who are you.

The reply came slowly.

I am you.

Three years from now.

This is the first night the system falls.

I learned how to send warnings backward through corrupted time stamps.

Sirens echoed in the distance, weak and confused.

Another message appeared.

This was the easy one.

Worse nights are coming.

I will guide you through them.

But you will lose people.

And you will change.

Dust drifted from the broken building behind me.

Children cried somewhere in the dark.

I swallowed hard.

Why help me.

The answer took longer.

Because in my timeline you didn’t survive.

And when you died, everything fell apart faster.

I stared at the ruined street.

The silent city.

The beginning of something breaking.

My tablet vibrated once more.

Welcome to the nights where the future fights to stay alive.