Apparently nothing!

Jon Kekyll peeled himself off the stool with a grunt, the synthetic seat leaving a faint sheen of sweat across the small of his back. The harsh lab lights hummed overhead, indifferent to his disappointment. Around him, the sensors slowly dimmed, diagnostic panels cycling down like bored technicians clocking out.

Still him. Still in boxer briefs. Still human.

“Of course it didn’t work,” he muttered. “Because when has anything in this field ever worked on the first try?”

The RAC lay sprawled on the floor near his feet, like a dead beetle. He scooped it up, half-expecting it to be hot. But no…it was cool. Maybe too cool. Like the last jolt had emptied its guts.

He turned it over in his hand, checking for cracked panels, frayed wires, anything. But everything looked intact. Stable. Functioning, even.

So why the hell had nothing happened?

He looked down at himself again, just to be sure. Same proportions. Same height. Nothing missing or extra. Even the light sheen of chest hair stared back at him accusingly.

“I ran the stabilization protocol three times,” he said to no one in particular. “Field amplitude was within tolerance. Charge ratios were dead-on. It should’ve done something.”

But the truth was simple: if there were changes, they weren’t the kind you could see.

Not yet.

Jon rubbed at his temple. A low-grade headache pulsed behind his eyes, one he hadn’t felt until the surge. He tapped at the RAC again absently, then set it on the edge of the workbench. It buzzed, just faintly, like a tickle of static clinging to his fingertips.

His arm jerked slightly in response.

“Huh.”

He looked at his hand, flexed it.

It felt… normal. Except maybe a little more awake. More sensitive. Like he’d been brushing against some low-level electric field and hadn’t grounded out yet.

Static buildup, maybe. Lab was dry this time of year.

He turned toward the wall clock. Nearly 9:30.

“Enough,” he said. “Enough for one night.”

Jon padded over to his locker, pulled on a wrinkled T-shirt and joggers, and tossed a few leftover printouts into his satchel. He moved slowly, dragging his feet a bit, shoulders sagging with the weight of disappointment.

The RAC stayed behind, humming a faint, contented purr, alive in a way Jon didn’t yet recognize.

As he reached for the lab door, a sharp crack of static leapt from his fingers to the metal handle.

“Shit!” he flinched, shaking his hand.

He didn’t notice how, in that exact moment, a voltmeter on the far wall blinked red, briefly registering a spike. Or how the lingering energy didn’t dissipate right away.

With a tired grunt, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, barefoot and disheveled, just as a distant elevator chimed.

Someone was coming. But he didn’t turn.

He just kept walking, convinced nothing had changed.