Ethan stood in the center of the garage, arms crossed over his chest, staring at his invention like a proud artist unveiling a masterpiece. A jumble of wires, metal tubing, and humming circuits formed a sleek, makeshift pod—a contraption that looked like a cross between an MRI machine and a high-tech tanning bed. The air around it carried the faint smell of heated metal, and the tiny LED display on the side flickered between lines of scrolling code.
His stepdad, Mike, was less impressed.
"Kid, this thing looks like it belongs in a bad sci-fi movie," Mike said, shaking his head. His deep voice, rich with skepticism, filled the small space. "You really expect me to believe this hunk of junk can make someone younger?"
Ethan exhaled sharply. "It's not junk, and yeah, I do. I’ve run the simulations a hundred times. The calculations are airtight."
Mike folded his arms. The sleeves of his gray T-shirt stretched over his biceps as he studied the machine. "Simulations don’t mean squat in the real world," he said. "How do you know it won’t just fry someone? Or worse—do absolutely nothing?"
Ethan narrowed his eyes, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Because I built it right. You think I don’t know what I’m doing? I’ve been working on this for months, refining every detail. I used quantum stabilization to create a controlled regression in cellular structure while maintaining neurological continuity."
Mike raised an eyebrow. "English, kid."
Ethan sighed. "It reverses aging without erasing memories. It targets the body's biological clock and dials it back safely. Step in, and boom—you get younger. No surgery, no drugs, no weird side effects. Just time in reverse."
Mike scratched his beard, glancing at the pod again. "You make it sound real simple. Like a microwave for aging."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "It’s a little more complicated than that."
"Yeah? Then why hasn’t anyone else done it?"
"Because no one else has figured out how to stabilize the quantum entanglement between physical and cellular memory!" Ethan snapped.
Mike chuckled. "You’re a smart kid, no doubt about that. But c’mon, Ethan. Be real with me. You seriously expect me to believe this thing works?"
Ethan groaned. He hated this. The doubt. The condescension. Just because Mike spent his days lifting heavy things at the construction site didn’t mean he had to treat Ethan’s work like it was some dumb high school project. This was real. This was science.
"You’re just like everyone else," Ethan muttered. "No vision."
Mike smirked. "Vision’s great. Proof is better." He stepped closer to the machine, running a hand over the cool metal surface. "If you really believe in this thing, why haven’t you tested it yet?"
Ethan hesitated.
He had tested it—on fruit flies, on lab mice. Every single one had shown promising results. But human trials? That was different. That was riskier. He needed more time to analyze the data, to be sure there weren’t any hidden dangers.
Mike saw the hesitation and pounced on it. "That’s what I thought. You don’t even trust your own machine."
Ethan’s jaw tightened. "I do trust it. I just—I have to be smart about it."
Mike shrugged. "Alright, so how do you turn it on?"
Ethan blinked. "What?"
"The machine," Mike said, stepping toward the small control panel on the side of the pod. "How do you turn it on?"
Ethan’s stomach twisted. "Why?"
Mike grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Because I’m about to prove you wrong, kid."
Ethan’s heart pounded. "You—you don’t even know what’ll happen!"
"Exactly," Mike said, reaching for the switch. "And neither do you."
Ethan’s breath caught in his throat as he lunged forward, but Mike was faster.
With a flick of his thick fingers, he flipped the switch.
A deep, resonant hum filled the garage.
And then—
Nothing.
Mike looked around. The machine still hummed. The lights still blinked. The world hadn’t changed.
"See?" he said, smirking down at Ethan. "Told you. Nothing’s hap—"
Then the garage lights flickered.
Ethan’s eyes widened.
Mike’s smirk faded.
The air turned heavy, charged with static, and the machine let out a low, electric growl.
Something was happening.
Something big.