The Man Who Remembered the Future

They called it “temporal dissociation,” but Felix called it a curse.

At first, it was small things. He’d wake up already knowing which client would cancel, or what song would be playing on the café speakers. Friends said déjà vu, coincidence, intuition. But it wasn’t. Felix saw clear moments from the future—not vague feelings, but events, words, colors, faces—like memories, except they hadn’t happened yet.

By 2034, scientists finally gave it a name: Retrospective Anticipation Disorder (RAD). He was one of only nine confirmed cases worldwide. Neurologists believed it had something to do with entangled neurons and quantum tunneling in the hippocampus. Some AI researchers argued his brain had “jumped a few updates ahead.”

It got worse.

He started avoiding people, terrified he'd see how they’d die—because he did. His sister? A fire. His professor? Pancreatic cancer. A woman he once loved? A drunk driver. He watched each unfold, unable to stop them, cursed to remember futures no one else had lived yet.

Then came the glitch.

On April 5th, 2036, Felix woke up and remembered nothing about the future. His mind was silent. That night, global networks crashed. AI systems stopped answering. Satellites failed. It was as if the world itself skipped a beat.

In the silence, he found freedom. For the first time in years, he wasn’t haunted by timelines.

But it didn’t last.

A week later, he saw a single, overwhelming vision: a white sky, scorched trees, a countdown—zero.

He had twelve days.

So, he wrote this story, not to warn, but to document. “Maybe someone else will read this one day,” he typed. “Maybe memory isn’t just for the past. Maybe we all remember the future—we just forget how.”

And then, with trembling fingers, he hit Post.