The app that could predict death – and why I deleted it

When I downloaded the app for the first time, I thought it was just a gimmick. “Deathclock+” promised to calculate the exact date and time of my death with personal data – Health statistics, life habits and even emotional patterns that were followed by portable devices. It seemed only another dark turn in our technically obsessed culture, a way to be interactive.

But curiosity won. After all, we live in a world in which people trust apps to find love, select shares and plan pregnancies. So why not have an algorithm predicted the end of the line?

It started as a joke

When I opened the app for the first time, I was welcomed with a slim surface and a simple message: “Ready to reach your end?” I laughed. I entered my data – old, weight, sleep pattern, daily steps, diet selection, mood levels and even screen time.

Within seconds, the app gave me a date: August 17, 2051. At exactly 3:28 a.m.

It felt scary, but not threatening. I sent it and sent it to a few friends. “I think I have 26 years to live it,” I wrote, trying to sound casual.

But something in me has changed.

The algorithm that changed my behavior

I started checking the app weekly. Then daily. Soon I changed the behavior just to determine whether the date would change. I started to train more. The clock nested forward by two months. I cut out sugar – it moved a week.

One day, after a particularly stressful week, I noticed that the date of death had come closer. My stomach fell. I hadn't recognized how much weight I had given this virtual countdown.

I not only monitored my life – I managed it on the basis of the idea of an app of death.

Fear in the digital age

Then the irony met me: the more I concentrated on the fear of dying, the less I actually lived. My fear rose. I avoided risky activities. I stopped traveling. I even started to sleep more – not because I was tired, but because the app rewarded calm with more life expectancy.

I no longer followed joy – I have followed numbers.

That was not wellness. This was an obsession.

And I wasn't alone. Online forums had appeared. Whole communities formed their “death data” – compressing, competing and strategic ways to play the algorithm. It was like calorie counts for the soul.

If the prediction becomes control

One night I met someone. Her name was Lena. She asked me what I made for fun and I frozen. I had no more an answer.

We talked about technology, wellness apps and the obsession of the control. When I told her about the preparation of death, she looked at me a look that I will never forget.

She said, “If you already know when you will die, what is the reason to live freely?”

This question remained with me.

I started to achieve the journal – something that I hadn't done for years. I noticed how my thoughts did not focus on goals or dreams, but focused on fears. I have not made any decisions based on joy, but on avoidance.

And everything was on an app.

The day I deleted it

The last straw came when I canceled a weekend hike because my stress level had risen, and I didn't want the app to connect my “time on the left”. Something staring at the artificial countdown stared that night.

I realized that the attempt to cheat death had frightened me.

So I kept my finger in the app. It wobbled. I hit deletion. The digital handle that it had on me has just disappeared.

At first I felt lost. What would my health decisions be managed now? But slowly I found something better: intuition.

Live without the countdown

Without the app, I started making decisions based on passion and values – not on fear. I hiked the way I avoided. I booked a last-minute trip. I started painting again, something that I hadn't done for years.

My health improved – not because I tried to extend life, but because I actually enjoyed it.

I stopped measuring days and started to feel them.

What taught me about life and technology

It cannot be denied that Health Tech can be helpful. Apps that follow heart rate, sleep or nutrition can provide valuable knowledge. But when data becomes fate, we lose a little deeply people: the ability to live in the present.

The prediction of death does not prepare us for life – it distracts us from it.

We shouldn't know the end. We should let it count every day, not count every day.

Instead of checking an app, I now check in with myself.

• Am I fulfilled?
• Am I connected?
• Do I really live?

This is the only algorithm that I now trust.