Chapter 22: The iPhone Prediction
Howard's arguing about phone screen size when the tingle hits.
We're in the shop—Tuesday afternoon, slow day, the kind where conversation happens naturally between restocking shelves and organizing back issues. Howard's convinced the iPhone's screen is too small to be useful for anything serious.
"It's a toy," he insists, holding up his Motorola RAZR like evidence. "Flip phones are practical. This touch screen nonsense is just Apple marketing."
The tingle intensifies. Images cascade: App stores. Social media domination. Phones becoming cameras, music players, gaming devices, entire computers in pockets. The complete restructuring of human interaction through smartphones.
"You're wrong," I hear myself say.
Everyone looks at me.
"I'm wrong?" Howard sounds offended. "About what?"
"Smartphones aren't toys. They're going to replace computers for most people within five years."
Silence.
Then Sheldon laughs. Actually laughs.
"That's statistically improbable," he says, pulling out his own phone—some ancient Nokia brick. "Current smartphone adoption rates, processing limitations, battery technology constraints, user interface challenges—"
"Apps," I interrupt. "Applications. Someone's going to create an ecosystem where people can download programs directly to their phones. Games, social media, productivity tools, everything. It'll create entirely new industries."
"That's speculative futurism," Sheldon counters. "Not data-driven prediction."
"Mobile gaming will surpass console gaming," I continue, the memories flowing faster than I can control. "Social media will become phone-first. People will take photos on phones instead of cameras. Navigation, music, communication, shopping—everything moves mobile."
Leonard's watching me closely. "You sound very certain about this."
"I am certain."
"Based on what?"
Based on living through it. Based on memories of a future that hasn't happened yet. Based on spending years in a world where smartphones are as common as oxygen.
"Intuition," I say instead. "Same intuition that called Walking Dead. Same one that said buy Apple stock."
"Your 'intuition' is creating a concerning pattern," Sheldon observes. He's got that analytical look, the one that means he's filing information for later examination. "You make specific, confident predictions about future market conditions and cultural shifts that consistently prove accurate."
"Lucky streak."
"Luck doesn't account for specificity. You're not making vague guesses. You're predicting detailed scenarios with technological and social components."
"Maybe I read a lot of tech blogs?"
"I read tech blogs," Leonard says. "None of them are predicting the things you're saying. Apps taking over? Social media on phones? That's not mainstream thinking."
Howard jumps in, defensive of his flip phone. "Even if smartphones get better, they won't replace computers. That's crazy. You need keyboards, processing power, proper screens—"
"Five years," I repeat. "Maybe less. Smartphones will be the primary computing device for most people. And Apple's leading that charge."
Raj, quiet until now, speaks up. "Should we buy Apple stock?"
"I already told you that. Back in January."
"You said it was a 'good feeling.' Now you're making detailed predictions about technological revolution."
Shit. I'm being too specific. The memories are clear—iPhone launch, app store, social media explosion, the complete mobile transformation of society. But I can't explain how I know.
The gang's staring. Even Melissa, who arrived during my rant, looks confused.
"You know what?" I backtrack slightly. "Maybe I'm wrong. Just seems like the trend."
"You don't sound like you think you're wrong," Leonard observes.
"I'm not wrong about Walking Dead. Or Bitcoin—remember you all mocked that? It's up like 400% now."
"And you were right about Apple," Raj adds. "Your stock's up what, 60%?"
"Seventy-three percent as of yesterday."
"See?" Raj turns to the others. "Stuart's instincts work. If he says smartphones are the future, maybe we should listen."
"Instincts don't work that specifically," Sheldon insists. "There's a mechanism here we're not identifying. Pattern recognition? Insider information? Time travel?"
He says the last one jokingly. Almost.
"I'm not a time traveler, Sheldon."
"Then explain your predictive accuracy."
"I can't. I just... know things sometimes."
This isn't good enough for him. I can see him cataloging the conversation, adding it to whatever mental database he's building about my "anomalous" success rate.
Leonard rescues me, sort of.
"Maybe Stuart's just really intuitive about trends. Some people are. They see patterns others miss."
"Pattern recognition alone doesn't—"
"Sheldon. Let it go."
They lock eyes. That weird telepathic friendship communication happens. Sheldon nods stiffly.
"Very well. However, I maintain my documentation of statistically improbable events."
After they leave, Melissa corners me while I'm closing out the register.
"That was intense."
"Yeah."
"You really think smartphones will take over?"
"I really do."
"Why so certain?"
I could tell her. The truth. That I died and woke up with future knowledge. That I'm not guessing—I'm remembering. That every prediction is based on living through these events before.
Instead: "Just a feeling."
She studies my face. "You've got a lot of 'feelings' that turn out right."
"Lucky, I guess."
"Stuart." She puts her hand over mine on the counter. "I'm not interrogating you. I just... you get this look sometimes. Like you're seeing something nobody else can. It's weird. But also kind of hot?"
I laugh despite the tension.
"Hot?"
"Mysterious and confident? Yeah, that works for me."
She kisses me, and for a moment I forget about Sheldon's suspicions and the danger of being too specific about the future.
That night, updating my secret notebook, I write:
Made specific smartphone predictions. Too specific. Sheldon's documenting "anomalous events." Need to be more careful. The memory tingles are getting stronger—harder to filter before speaking. Success is making me careless.
Note: Only Raj taking investment advice seriously. Good. Fewer people enriched by my cheating means fewer questions. But also—Raj trusts me. That trust feels like responsibility.
Apple stock: $90.58/share (up 73% since purchase). Bitcoin: $0.21/coin (up 420% since purchase). Total portfolio: ~$52,000. This is real wealth building. The powers are working exactly as promised.
Question: At what point do the predictions become too accurate to explain away?
Answer: I'm already past that point. Just hoping friendship outweighs suspicion.
I close the notebook and hide it in my usual spot—behind the hollowed-out copy of "Infinite Crisis" that nobody touches.
Tomorrow I need to be more careful. Less specific. More vague.
But the memories won't stop coming. And every time I'm right, the questions get harder to deflect.
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