Chapter 16: The Housing Crisis Warning
POV: Stuart
Two weeks after Leonard's investigation had reached its diplomatic resolution, I discovered that my Memory power had evolved in ways I hadn't expected. It started during a slow Tuesday afternoon, when I found myself idly wondering about the upcoming presidential election and suddenly realized I could search my future knowledge deliberately instead of waiting for random flashes.
The sensation was different from the painful surges I'd experienced before—less like lightning striking and more like accessing a vast, organized database. I focused my attention on "2008 financial markets" and watched in fascination as detailed information flowed through my consciousness with crystalline clarity.
Stage 2, I realized. Contextual recall on demand.
What I saw made my stomach drop like an elevator with severed cables.
The subprime mortgage crisis would explode in less than eight months, triggered by cascading defaults in the housing market that would spread like a virus through the entire global financial system. Bear Stearns would collapse in March. Lehman Brothers would file for bankruptcy in September. AIG would require a government bailout to prevent systemic catastrophe. Unemployment would spike to levels not seen since the Great Depression.
And every single one of my friends was about to make financial decisions that would devastate them.
The Memory power showed me Leonard's recent investment in mortgage-backed securities, convinced by his financial advisor that real estate was "the safest long-term growth strategy." Howard had used his aerospace engineering salary to buy investment property in an up-and-coming neighborhood, planning to flip it for profit within two years. Even Raj had convinced his parents to diversify their portfolio into American real estate funds.
"I can stop this," I thought, my heart racing with the possibility of using my impossible knowledge to protect the people I cared about. "I can warn them, explain what's coming, save them from losing everything."
But even as the thought formed, I felt the familiar pressure building behind my temples—the temporal headache that accompanied attempts to change major timeline events. The void powers came with rules, and I was beginning to suspect that some of those rules were non-negotiable.
That evening, I gathered everyone for an impromptu dinner at my apartment, claiming I wanted to celebrate the shop's continued success. But my real agenda was more serious than celebration.
"So," I said after we'd finished eating and moved to the living room, "I've been doing some reading about the housing market lately, and I'm seeing some concerning trends."
"Concerning how?" Leonard asked, settling into one of my reading chairs with a beer in hand.
"Subprime mortgages, adjustable rate loans, securitization of debt instruments that nobody really understands," I said, trying to keep my voice casual despite the urgency building in my chest. "The whole system is built on the assumption that housing prices will keep rising indefinitely."
Sheldon looked up from his examination of my bookshelf. "Housing prices have demonstrated consistent appreciation for over a decade. What specific indicators suggest systematic instability?"
"Here we go," I thought, feeling the Memory power surge as I accessed detailed information about overleveraged banks and worthless mortgage-backed securities. "Time to see how much truth I can share before the universe stops me."
"Well," I began, "when banks start making loans to people who can't afford them, then bundling those loans into investment products they're selling to other banks, you create a situation where everyone's betting on something that might not actually have the value they think it does."
Howard waved dismissively. "Come on, Stuart. Real estate is the foundation of the American economy. People always need places to live, and land is finite. Basic supply and demand."
"But what if the demand is artificially inflated by easy credit?" I pressed. "What if banks are approving mortgages for people who have no realistic chance of making the payments long-term?"
"Then those people lose their houses and the market corrects itself," Leonard said with the confidence of someone who'd never lived through a major financial crisis. "Individual foreclosures don't threaten the entire system."
The Memory power pulsed harder, and suddenly I could see the specific mechanisms of collapse with documentary precision. I knew which banks would fail first, which government officials would panic, which emergency measures would prove inadequate to prevent global contagion.
"I have to make them understand," I thought desperately. "I can save them from this."
"What if it's not just individual foreclosures?" I said, my voice gaining intensity despite my attempts to stay calm. "What if it's systematic collapse across multiple markets simultaneously? What if major financial institutions start failing because they're all holding worthless debt instruments that were rated as safe investments?"
Penny, who had been quietly following our conversation, spoke up. "Stuart, you're starting to sound a little paranoid. The economy's doing great right now."
"I'm not paranoid," I insisted, feeling the temporal headache building to dangerous levels. "I'm trying to warn you about what's coming. The housing bubble is going to burst, probably starting in early 2008. Major banks are going to fail. The stock market is going to crash. People are going to lose their jobs, their houses, their retirement savings—"
"Stuart." Sheldon's voice cut through my increasingly frantic explanation. "You're exhibiting symptoms of financial anxiety disorder. Your predictions have become increasingly apocalyptic and non-specific."
"They're not non-specific!" I shot back, the Memory power now flooding my consciousness with dates, names, specific casualty figures. "Bear Stearns will collapse in March 2008. Lehman Brothers will file for bankruptcy on September 15th, 2008. The Dow will lose over 50% of its value between October 2007 and March 2009. Unemployment will reach 10% by October 2009—"
The temporal headache struck like a physical blow, so intense that my vision went white and I doubled over in my chair, pressing my palms against my skull as waves of agony crashed through my brain.
"Stop," the pain seemed to say. "Some things cannot be changed. Some knowledge cannot be shared."
"Stuart!" Leonard was beside me immediately, his hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay? Should we call a doctor?"
"I'm fine," I gasped, though the migraine was so severe I could barely form words. "Just... stress headache. Too much coffee today."
"That didn't look like a stress headache," Penny said with obvious concern. "That looked like you were in serious pain."
"Maybe we should get you to a hospital," Howard suggested. "Sudden onset severe headaches can indicate—"
"No," I said firmly, forcing myself to sit up despite the continued throbbing in my skull. "I'm okay. Really. Just need some aspirin and rest."
The Memory power was retreating now, leaving me with residual knowledge but blocking access to the specific details that would allow me to prevent the crisis. The message was clear: I could use my foreknowledge for personal advantage, and I could help individuals in small ways, but I couldn't prevent major historical events without suffering consequences that made the attempt impossible.
"Fixed points," I realized through the haze of pain. "Some things are meant to happen, and trying to stop them triggers whatever cosmic enforcement mechanism the void powers come with."
"Stuart," Leonard said gently, "I know you're passionate about economic trends, but maybe take a step back from the doom and gloom predictions. The fundamentals of the economy are sound. Housing prices might correct slightly, but we're not looking at systematic collapse."
"In eight months, you'll remember this conversation," I thought sadly, "and you'll understand that I was trying to save you from financial ruin. But by then, it'll be too late to matter."
"You're probably right," I said aloud, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. "I've been reading too many pessimistic financial blogs. Getting caught up in worst-case scenarios."
"Exactly," Sheldon agreed. "Catastrophic thinking is a common cognitive bias. The availability heuristic makes dramatic negative outcomes seem more probable than they actually are."
As the conversation moved on to other topics and the migraine gradually subsided, I sat quietly processing what I'd learned about the limitations of my void powers. I could profit from foreknowledge, but I couldn't prevent the disasters that would create opportunities for profit. I could help individuals make better choices, but I couldn't save them from systemic problems that affected everyone.
"The void gave me incredible gifts," I thought, watching my friends continue their casual discussion of investment strategies that would prove catastrophic within the year. "But those gifts come with rules that prevent me from using them to change history. I can surf the waves of major events, but I can't stop the tsunamis."
The ethical implications were staggering. I would watch my friends lose money they couldn't afford to lose, knowing exactly when and how it would happen, unable to prevent their suffering without triggering consequences that made prevention impossible.
"This is the real cost of cosmic knowledge," I realized as the evening wound down and everyone prepared to leave. "Not just the isolation of carrying secrets, but the guilt of watching preventable disasters unfold because prevention violates whatever cosmic laws govern these powers."
Tomorrow, I would continue the delicate balancing act of being helpful without being impossible, successful without being supernatural. But I would also begin preparing for the crisis I couldn't prevent, finding ways to help my friends individually even if I couldn't save them from the larger catastrophe approaching.
The void had made me a prophet, but prophets, I was learning, were often cursed to know the future without being able to change it. Some knowledge was a burden rather than a gift, and some gifts came with prices that couldn't be fully calculated until they came due.
"At least," I thought grimly, "when the crisis hits, I'll be in a position to help pick up the pieces. Maybe that's what these powers are really for—not preventing disasters, but helping people rebuild after the disasters happen anyway."
It wasn't the cosmic justice I'd hoped for, but it was the reality I'd have to accept. The future was fixed in some ways and malleable in others, and learning to tell the difference would require painful experience with both the possibilities and limitations of void-touched power.
Note:
Please give good reviews and power stones itrings more people and more people means more chapters?
My Patreon is all about exploring 'What If' timelines, and you can get instant access to chapters far ahead of the public release.
Choose your journey:
Timeline Viewer ($5): Get 10 chapters of early access + 5 new chapters weekly.
Timeline Explorer ($8): Jump 15-20 chapters ahead of everyone.
Timeline Keeper ($15): Get Instant Access to chapters the moment I finish writing them. No more waiting.
Read the raw, unfiltered story as it unfolds. Your support makes this possible!
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/Whatif0