Future News My Phone Mutated Novels & Stories

~Julian~ I sat at the edge of my bed with my phone resting in my hand, the screen glow cutting through the dimness around me. I didn’t need anyone to tell me what was happening outside that room because I already knew. I had been watching it unfold in real time, piece by piece, across every platform that mattered. My phone vibrated again before I even decided what to do next. I answered it. “You’re watching it spread faster than expected,” the voice on the other end said, like it was something to be pleased about rather than contained.

We’re nearly home, our territory only minutes away, when a phone in Caden’s pocket buzzes. At first, I barely register it. He frowns, pulls it out casually—but then his entire body locks. His jaw clenches. I peek over. And my heart stops. It’s that phone. The one from the night Mum and Dad were captured. The burner. The one that should’ve gone cold. My stomach plummets like it’s been kicked down a staircase. Caden unlocks it, and the screen lights up with a message. “So you think just because you outsmarted the mutt and killed him the game is over?”

Her— Perfect planning. "By next month—five hundred thousand doses. By next year—fifty million. By decade—" She smiled. Nine years old. "Everyone. Every child. All modified. All—ours." But something was wrong. My phone buzzed. Message from unknown number. Should have deleted. Should have— Ignored. But opened it anyway. Video file. Encrypted. Took thirty seconds to decrypt. Then— Damien. Alive. Impossible. But there. On screen. Real. Speaking.

What she got was a scrunched face instead; an expression Gabriele made whenever she was about to deliver unsettling news. “What?” Lola inquired. “What’s wrong?” Gabriele placed a hand on her shoulder as she pulled her phone out from her purse. Though she didn’t say it, Lola was glad that a member of the Morales family was normal and not walking around with an Infinity phone. “It’s either you’ve been off your phone for the last forty-eight hours, or you’ve been surfing the wrong parts of social media. ‘Cause this is what’s making the headlines right now.”

"Maybe it might change your mind." "What is it?" I caught the phone midair but didn't look into it yet, not sure what I'll find in there. He motioned for me to check, pushing his hands into his pants pocket, and turning his face back to the ocean. I swiped up to unlock the phone and the first thing I saw was the headline in big, bold letters. I quickly scrolled down, scanning through the contents as fast as I could before throwing the phone back to him. "It's fake," I announced.

Next to it, my phone screen lights up with a notification. I reach for it, then hesitate. If I'm some kind of ghost or spirit, will my hand pass right through it? No. The phone feels solid in my palm. Real. I press the home button and the screen brightens fully. The date stares back at me: June 18, 2024. My stomach drops like I'm in free fall. That can't possibly be right. I swipe frantically through calendar apps, news sites, anything that might confirm or deny what I'm seeing. But every source shows the same date.

Inside was a small cell phone and charger. The small stall melted around me as tears blurred my vision. During the months Nox and I had dated, he'd showered me with many gifts, but nothing filled me with the joy and relief of the small disposable phone. I couldn't call now. It wasn't safe. But I would—I could. I finally could.

My mother makes three million dollars a month overseas, yet my monthly allowance is only ten dollars. When my father confronts her about it, they nearly get a divorce. My brother, Peter Thorne, takes pity on me and secretly gives me some money. However, he is punished for his actions. Hence, every time I get so hungry that my stomach feels like it's digesting itself, sheer resentment wells in me toward my mother. I hate her for being so ruthless and cruel, for giving birth to me yet being unwilling to take care of me. And then, one day, I receive a video call from myself ten years into the future. I eagerly ask, "How is life for me ten years from now? Did I finally cut off all ties with

And when he placed the phone on the table again, he cursed in a low tone. Although I didn't want to, I found myself asking, “What's wrong?” Half expecting him to brush my words off with his usual amused tone, I was surprised when he heaved a sigh and offered me his phone. I didn't see what he wanted to show me at first, but when I finally did, my eyes widened. “Fuck.” I swallowed. It was a news article about Zayn and…me. But it should have been expected of course. He was well known, and a billionaire.

Signal from the Outside World September 12, 2029 – Blackbird-Coyote Dorm, late afternoon The dorm finally lets mortal cell service through for exactly thirty minutes (probably because it feels sorry for us). Our phones explode. First comes the text. From a number I haven’t seen since senior year of high school. Julian Bathory [4:17 p.m.] dude. DUDE. the entire supernatural internet is losing its shit somebody leaked helmet-cam footage of you six wrecking the Sky Court i just watched you surf a throne-ship on a titanium board while your boyfriend turned into a star-coyote i need new pants also tell Seras her dad is crying in the dojo again