"Excuse me, sir. Just one quick question for my channel."
The microphone appeared inches from Ethan Cole's face.
He froze mid-step, a frown knitting his brow. The morning rush hour in downtown Seattle was already suffocating, and he was late.
The girl holding the mic smiled brightly, her camera live to thousands of viewers. "Do you know that you're an AI?"
Ethan blinked.
"What…?"
She wasn't laughing. Not even a twitch.
The pedestrian light turned green. People surged forward. Ethan took a step.
A sharp screech tore through the air.
A black sedan skidded around the corner, tires screaming. It ignored the red light, heading straight for the crosswalk.
Ethan's stomach dropped.
Time seemed to slow. The car barreled closer.
"Wait—no!" he shouted.
Metal slammed. A violent impact knocked him off his feet, spinning him through the air.
Darkness.
When he woke, sunlight spilled through the blinds. His chest heaved, sweat slicking his hair. Every bone ached. He sat up slowly, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince himself it had been a nightmare.
But the memory of the car—its headlights, the screech, the chaos—was too vivid. His hands shook as he touched them, half-expecting bruises. Nothing.
7:00 a.m. December 3rd. His phone confirmed it.
The same day.
Ethan swung his legs off the bed and rubbed his temples. He had a long commute ahead, a tech support shift in a corporate tower, and already a sense of dread settled in his chest. Something about the morning felt… wrong. Familiar.
Shaking it off, he grabbed his backpack and hurried to the Metro.
The train was a sardine can of commuters. Ethan managed to wedge himself near the doors and pulled out his phone. Scrolling through the news feed, one headline caught his eye:
Harvard astrophysicist Avi Loeb claims 3I/ATLAS object could be alien in origin; expected to reach near-Earth orbit by December 5th.
Ethan frowned. He could have sworn he read this yesterday. Maybe the app recycled it.
Ignoring the déjà vu, he tucked the phone away as the train screeched to a stop near his office. He rushed up the stairs to street level, weaving through the crowd.
And there it was.
The same intersection from his nightmare.
The same girl. Chloe Summers, live on her phone, microphone outstretched.
"Excuse me, sir—just one quick question for my channel—"
Ethan froze. His heart hammered in his chest.
"Do you know that you're an AI?"
Every word matched the nightmare. Every motion, every angle, every detail. This wasn't a dream.
He staggered backward, his mind screaming. I… I can see the future?
The traffic light clicked. Green. People started moving. Ethan did not. He stared at Chloe.
"Sir?" she asked, her smile faltering slightly. "Are you… okay?"
Ethan took a deep breath, forcing his panic down. His eyes flicked past her shoulder, toward the street corner.
"There," he said quietly. "The car. It's coming."
Chloe followed his gaze. Nothing.
"Sir, there's—"
A screech of tires cut her off.
The black sedan shot around the corner at impossible speed. Red light? Ignored. Pedestrians? Obliterated. Chaos erupted. Screams, metal crunching, glass shattering.
Ethan's knees buckled. He turned and ran.