The Nostradamus Fixpoint

The ancient text file changed daily in the air gapped system where the only thing that ran was a primitive operating system. Always predicting his death in playful limericks, the hinted-at details changing as precaution overlapped precaution, the gleefulness more savage every time he checked. He told nobody about the file and nobody asked: at the price range of his bodyguards, doctors, and engineers privacy was implied. But there was no surprise or investigation when fear and drugs finally killed him. Nobody turned on the absurdly old laptop he kept in his most expensive safe and therefore nobody opened the empty text file with an unremarkable name.