A Message from Next Thursday

The notification said: Thursday, 14:10. Do not take the interview.

Evan dismissed it as a test alert from an app he had helped build. Then another appeared: You will spill coffee on your left shoe in nine seconds. Eight seconds later, he knocked his mug from the desk.

The sender was his own account. The message contained a recording of his voice, older by something more than seven days. "I'm not asking you to believe everything," it said. "Just ask them about the archive."

Evan had spent months applying for work. The company had finally invited him in. He stared at his wet shoe, then added a question to the interview notes he had polished all night.