Edward: A man in need of a better family

Edward Harlan dragged his roller bag through the crowded terminal of LAX, the wheels clacking against the polished floor. Another business trip done. Three days in Seattle pitching software updates to clients who barely looked at him. He was heading home to Chicago on the red-eye, same as always. Same routine. Same emptiness.

He found a spot near his gate, away from the families clustered around charging stations and pulled out his phone. Thumb hovering, he opened the family group chat. Last message from him: Landing around 6am, see you guys soon. Sent twelve hours ago. No replies. Not from Sarah, his wife. Not from Ethan, his nineteen-year-old son who’d rather text his friends than his dad. Not even a thumbs-up emoji.

He scrolled up. Same pattern. His messages sat there, blue bubbles in a sea of silence. Sarah’s last text to him was four days ago: Don’t forget to pick a gift for me when you’re back. Ethan hadn’t messaged him in weeks.

Edward’s chest tightened, that familiar ache settling in. They’d gotten used to him being gone. Hell, they probably preferred it. Less disruption to their lives. His parents? They’d never cared much either, distant even when he was a kid, always busy with their own shit. He was just the guy who paid the bills and disappeared for work.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket, harder than he meant to and leaned against the wall, eyes scanning the terminal without seeing it. That’s when he noticed her.

An Asian girl, Korean-American maybe, walking past with what looked like her parents. Early twenties, college age, long black hair tied back loose, wearing a baggy university hoodie and gray sweatpants that did nothing to hide the sway of her hips or the full curve of her chest straining against the fabric. Large breasts, yeah, he couldn’t help noticing those. She was laughing at something her dad said, her mom’s arm linked through hers, both of them attentive, affectionate, like they actually gave a damn.

The dad ruffled her hair playfully. The mom leaned in and whispered something that made the girl giggle again, her eyes lighting up.

Edward’s hands dropped to his face, palms pressing into his eyes. He sighed, deep and heavy, the sound lost in the airport’s hum.

If only life was different. If he had a chance to change things. To have someone look at him like that. To matter.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than his phone dinged, a sharp, unfamiliar chime.

He frowned, fishing it out again. No text. No email. Just a notification glowing at the top of the screen:

NeuYou V1.2 – installed

Jester’s Imaginarium Inc. | Free version

The hell was this? He didn’t remember downloading anything. Spam? Some malware bullshit?

Curiosity won out. His thumb hovered, then tapped the notification.

The screen flickered. Black background with pale violet trim. Text scrolled slow across the center:

"Welcome to NeuYou.

Your reality has now been upgraded.

Select any individual visible to your camera.

Input their new reality through your prompt.

Reality will rewrite itself to match.

Targets gain new personalities, appearances, relationships.

Limits apply in the free version.

Have fun."

– Mr J.

No login. No ads. Just a camera view with a capture button and a blank text box below.

Edward stared, his heart thudding a little faster. This had to be a joke. Some AR filter prank.

But the girl, the one with her parents, was still walking away, her laughter fading into the crowd.

He raised the phone, almost on instinct. The camera sharpened, a soft violet outline flickering around her frame.

He swallowed.

What the fuck was he even thinking?

Edward stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the violet-outlined photo of the girl.

JI-YEON KIM (21)

The tag floated there like it belonged.

He let out a short, bitter laugh. Worst case, some hidden-camera prank crew would jump out and bleep the footage because what he was about to type was way too fucked up for basic cable. Best case, it was a hacker on the other end getting a cheap thrill from some lonely businessman’s mid-life fantasy.

Either way, he didn’t give a damn anymore.

His thumbs moved across the keyboard, deliberate, no backspacing.

Define a new reality for the target: