By the time they reached the gym Danny was 26 going on 27. Mark opted to pump some iron and watched Danny on the running machine. As he jogged, Danny slimmed down slightly, limbs becoming more toned, though he never completely lost the hint of flab at his belly. At first he seemed tireless, but as he edged up to 28 he began to puff.
"I'm gonna take a break," he announced, running a hand through his sweaty hair and going to sit down on the bench. Mark noticed Danny's hair had receded a little more at the temples, though he still had a much better head of hair than his siblings had at this age, thanks to the changes he had made on the Chronivac; the M-shape that had begun to appear was still masked by the layered fringe he wore it in.
"Dad," Danny said, "I don't feel right today. I'm gonna go home."
Mark vaguely thought he needed to get home to make sure the boy didn't - what? The memory disappeared from his mind.
"Okay son," he said between grunts, lifting close to 500lbs before letting it fall back onto the rack. "I'm gonna stay here for a while, make sure I get in my exercise."
As Danny walked home he kept checking his reflection. Although there were no obvious lines on his face yet, he definitely had a harder-edged, more mature look. Wasn't he supposed to be a young guy, like, 20? The memories fought for dominance then subsided. He lifted his fringe at the front and tutted at his rising temple line. But hadn't it been worse before? He had the strangest image of himself with strongly balding hair, well on the way to his uncle's look. He caught a vague hint there of something that had happened, connected with the strange machine in his granddad's room.
By the time he got home he was pushing 30, noticeably burlier and with the definite beginnings of a belly now.
"Hi Uncle Jay," he said, waving at the older man fixing himself lunch in the kitchen. Jay grunted a response.
Danny went upstairs, still fiddling with his hair, and turned on the Chronivac. Once again he was shocked by the intimate information it had on individual members of the family, before remembering he'd thought all this before. He called up his own profile. Could the machine actually alter reality?
He clicked the MPB button again and dragged the scale up from 25 to 40; the little tooltip warning of risk of premature hairloss disappeared. Again, he felt his hair fill in dramatically, becoming noticeably thicker all over. It changed back from a short, layered style to a loose, shoulder-length, hippy look, and he had memories of having let it grow out since his early twenties. He brushed back the thick, dark locks with one hand, wondering why he had worried so much about it, when he clearly didn't take after his dad's side of the family. No, wait! Through a supreme effort of focus, he was able to recall what he'd just done.
"Holy shit," he said.