Viral
1197 Words
Episode 3: Viral
By midnight, Ethan's life had changed.
Again.
He sat in the back of a police car outside Maple Road Market, wrapped in a borrowed jacket while rainwater dripped from his hair.
A detective sat beside him.
"Start from the beginning."
Ethan rubbed his hands together.
"I already told the officers."
"I know." The detective opened a notebook. "I'm Detective Sarah Bennett. I need to hear it from you."
Ethan looked at her.
She was probably in her early thirties, with tired eyes and dark hair pulled tightly behind her head. She didn't look impressed by the story.
That made sense.
Ethan wasn't impressed by it either.
"Someone donated money during my livestream," he said. "They predicted the robbery."
"How long before?"
"Fourteen minutes."
"And you drove here?"
"Yes."
Sarah's expression hardened.
"Why?"
"Because nobody believed me."
"I believe you."
Ethan looked at her.
That answer surprised him.
Sarah continued writing.
"That's the problem."
Inside the store, officers were collecting evidence.
The clerk had survived exactly as Oracle predicted.
No serious injuries.
One gunshot into the ceiling.
Cash stolen.
The description of the robber was already being circulated.
Everything matched.
Too perfectly.
Sarah closed her notebook.
"Do you understand how serious this is?"
Ethan nodded.
"Someone knew."
"Someone knew," Sarah repeated. "The question is how."
She took Ethan's phone.
"Your livestream is still recording?"
"I think so."
She examined it.
The stream had ended automatically several minutes earlier.
But the recording remained.
Sarah stared at the screen.
Thousands of comments.
Thousands of viewers.
She looked back at Ethan.
"How many people watched this?"
"Tonight? Maybe ten thousand."
Sarah raised an eyebrow.
"Your channel normally gets ten thousand?"
"No."
"How many?"
Ethan hesitated.
"Twenty."
Sarah slowly looked back at the phone.
"So this person just turned you into an internet sensation."
Ethan didn't answer.
Because that was exactly what had happened.
By morning, the video was everywhere.
Ethan woke up at 7:12 AM to hundreds of notifications.
His phone wouldn't stop vibrating.
Messages.
Comments.
Emails.
Friend requests.
News alerts.
He opened his laptop.
The first headline he saw made his stomach tighten.
SMALL STREAMER PREDICTS CONVENIENCE STORE ROBBERY MINUTES BEFORE IT HAPPENS
Another appeared beneath it.
WHO IS ORACLE_13?
Then another.
THE INTERNET'S NEW MYSTERY: CAN THIS STREAMER PREDICT CRIME?
Ethan stared at the screen.
His viewer count had exploded overnight.
147,000 subscribers.
Yesterday he'd had fewer than five thousand.
Now strangers were discussing him everywhere.
Clips from his stream were spreading across social media.
Some people called him a genius.
Others called him a fraud.
Some believed he was involved.
One comment had thousands of likes.
He's not predicting crimes. He's controlling them.
Ethan closed the page.
His stomach turned.
Then his phone rang.
Sarah.
He answered.
"Hello?"
"Don't livestream tonight."
Ethan sat up.
"What?"
"Don't."
"Why?"
Sarah was silent for a moment.
"Because whoever Oracle is, they know you're investigating."
Ethan remembered the message.
YOU'RE NEXT.
"I think Oracle wants me to keep streaming."
"That's exactly why you shouldn't."
The call ended.
Ethan stared at his phone.
For the first time, he considered quitting.
Deleting the channel.
Walking away.
Returning to the quiet life he'd had forty-eight hours earlier.
It sounded wonderful.
Then his computer chimed.
A new donation notification appeared.
Ethan froze.
DONATION RECEIVED: $500
Oracle_13
The message was short.
"Don't disappoint them."
Ethan stared at it.
His hands went cold.
They.
Who were they?
That evening, Ethan didn't plan to stream.
At least, not at first.
He spent hours researching Oracle_13.
He searched the username.
Nothing.
No social media accounts.
No old posts.
No profile.
No trace.
It was as if the account had been created specifically for him.
Then he noticed something.
The donation platform showed a timestamp.
Account created: 11:17 PM.
Ethan's heart skipped.
The exact time of the first prediction.
He checked the second donation.
Account activity: 10:43 PM.
Again.
The crime times.
That couldn't be coincidence.
He opened the transaction details.
Most information was hidden.
But one field was visible.
Payment Route: HELIX
Ethan frowned.
"Helix?"
He searched it.
Hundreds of companies appeared.
Technology firms.
Medical companies.
Security companies.
Nothing obvious.
He searched:
Helix Oracle_13
Nothing.
He tried:
Helix prediction system
Still nothing.
Then his laptop froze.
Ethan waited.
The screen flickered.
A black window appeared.
He hadn't opened it.
Text began appearing.
One line at a time.
YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE LOOKED.
Ethan stood.
"What the hell?"
Another line appeared.
THE SECOND VICTIM ISN'T DEAD.
Ethan stared.
"What second victim?"
The cursor blinked.
Then:
YET.
The screen went black.
Ethan's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then breathing.
Slow.
Controlled.
A man's voice finally spoke.
"You need to stop."
Ethan's throat tightened.
"Who is this?"
"You don't understand what you're involved in."
"Are you Oracle?"
The caller laughed quietly.
"No."
A pause.
"Oracle is trying to keep you alive."
The line disconnected.
Ethan stared at the phone.
Then a notification appeared.
Livestream scheduled automatically: 10:00 PM
Ethan hadn't scheduled anything.
He rushed to his computer.
His channel page was open.
The title had already been created.
THE THIRD PREDICTION
Underneath it was a description.
Tonight. 11:17 PM. One person will disappear.
Ethan's blood ran cold.
He hadn't written it.
Someone else had.
And thousands of viewers had already clicked Notify Me.
At 9:59 PM, Ethan sat in front of the camera.
He knew he shouldn't.
Sarah had warned him.
The mysterious caller had warned him.
Every instinct told him to shut everything down.
But if Oracle really was trying to prevent deaths, stopping the stream might mean losing the only warning they had.
The countdown reached zero.
The camera turned on.
Ethan looked directly into the lens.
"Good evening."
His voice sounded weaker than usual.
"I don't know who is watching this."
The viewer count climbed.
12,000.
18,000.
27,000.
Then:
35,000.
Ethan continued.
"But someone has been using my livestream to predict crimes."
The chat exploded.
He took a breath.
"And tonight, I think something worse is going to happen."
A donation notification appeared.
Ethan stopped speaking.
$1,000
Oracle_13
The message appeared slowly.
"11:17 PM. Central Station. Platform 6."
Ethan stared at it.
His eyes moved to the clock.
10:01 PM.
One hour and sixteen minutes.
Then another message appeared.
"This time, there will be no survivor."
The chat went silent.
Ethan's face drained of color.
Ethan's phone buzzed.
A message from Sarah.
Sarah Bennett: Where are you?
Ethan hesitated before replying.
Ethan: I'm live.
Three dots appeared.
Sarah: Then listen carefully. We just received an anonymous tip about an incident at Central Station tonight.
Ethan's eyes widened.
He looked at Oracle's donation again.
11:17 PM. Central Station. Platform 6.
He quickly typed:
Ethan: Which platform?
The reply came almost immediately.
Sarah: Platform 6.
Ethan stopped breathing.
Sarah couldn't have seen the donation.
He hadn't told her.
Nobody outside the livestream knew about it.
Unless someone had already told the police.
And that meant Oracle wasn't the only person predicting what would happen at Central Station.
End of Episode 3
Cliffhanger: If Ethan and the police received the same warning from different sources, who sent the anonymous tip—and how did they know?
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