Our TG Caption

The day-to-day routine at Eidolon Dynamics proved to be numbing in its tedium, as Keller quickly realized in the weeks after their grand opening. Endless hours spent coaxing finicky machinery back to life and dodging increasingly aggressive creditors were starting to erode his nerves. The only flicker of variety came from the occasional walk-in off the street, though those were few and far between. Finally, they had secured their very first proper appointment, and Keller was determined to make it count. If he couldn’t start turning a profit soon, the whole venture would collapse, and the young researcher had been reminded often—and not gently—of his weakness in marketing.

Mark and Diane arrived promptly at noon, the picture of a typical suburban couple edging into middle age. A few lines etched their faces, and streaks of grey threaded through their hair, with the soft weight of comfort living settling into their frames. Not quite at their peak anymore, but hardly unattractive. They had paid upfront—$7,500 for the full package—and Keller was more than willing to deliver.

“Our friends down the block told us this was worth every penny,” Mark said as Keller guided them down the narrow hall toward the Adjustment Chamber. “We thought, why not splurge a little on ourselves?”

“Mark is always doing sweet things like this for me,” Diane said, giving her husband’s arm a light slap.

“Only the best for my girl,” Mark replied with a grin before leaning in for a quick kiss. “Want to take the first turn?”

“Of course—ladies first,” she said, laughing as Keller swung open the sealed door to the chamber.

Once the men were safely inside the glass-walled Control Booth, Keller drew a slow breath, preparing his standard introduction. The talk was always the same: fragments about parallel realities, hints of cutting-edge breakthroughs, just enough technobabble to set the stage for the inevitable question every client ended up asking:

“So you mean… you can really do anything?”

Keller had once toyed with the idea of putting all this into a glossy brochure, but the danger of attracting the wrong kind of attention outweighed the convenience. The battered console was already humming, green diagnostic prompts flickering across the dusty CRT display. Mark stared through the reinforced window at his wife, his face a tangle of doubt and curiosity. Keller had seen it countless times. Sometimes the clients just needed a little nudge to cross the line.

“Let’s not dive straight into appearances,” Keller suggested, fingers gliding over the keyboard. “Start with something subtler. Ever wondered how Diane might live if she carried a… different belief about herself? A central truth?”

The chamber resonated with a soft pulse. Diane blinked once, twice, her expression tightening into quiet poise. A new certainty slid into place within her mind as naturally as if it had been there all her life: a woman’s value was defined by her allure. To be attractive wasn’t optional—it was the essence of who she was.

Reality shifted to match. Her modest blouse and slacks blurred into a wrap top that traced her figure, neckline dipping just enough to frame her chest. The pants tapered into a sleek black skirt that drew the eye to her hips, while her flats sharpened into heels with a polished shine. A whisper of gloss touched her lips, and her hair lost its dull strands of grey, reforming into soft, deliberate waves.

The change wasn’t drastic—she was still Diane, still bore the marks of age—but she radiated a sharpened awareness of her own magnetism. Every detail of her style now seemed intentional, polished by the conviction that sex appeal was everything.

Her history reshaped to suit the new truth. In high school, she hadn’t just been friendly—she’d been admired for her looks. In college, the long nights weren’t only for coursework; they were for perfecting makeup, posture, entrances. Marriage and motherhood hadn’t dulled her drive; they had simply become new reasons to remain desirable. The pleasure she drew from Mark’s admiring gaze felt familiar, like it had always been her compass.

Through the window, Mark frowned. His wife didn’t look entirely different, but she moved differently, radiated a self-conscious glamour. She adjusted her neckline almost absently, smirked at her reflection in the mirrored wall—gestures he’d never quite seen from her before.

Keller leaned toward him with a reassuring tone. “Notice how she’s still Diane—but her priorities are reordered. Desire isn’t just one value among many. It’s the foundation.”

Mark shifted uncomfortably, lips tightening as he studied his wife. The change wasn’t outrageous, but unsettling. It wasn’t the clothes or the attitude—it was the way she was appraising herself, every glance measuring how she appeared.

“Unease is common,” Keller said smoothly. “It’s just a belief, but beliefs shape everything. She’ll remain herself in many ways, but now she filters all through that conviction.”

Mark rubbed his stomach, expression clouded. “Yeah… maybe it’ll sit better once I’ve had my turn.”

“You can swap in whenever you’re ready,” Keller replied, his fingers already moving to idle the machine.

Mark lingered, rocking back on his heels, caught in visible indecision. For a moment he seemed ready to wave it off, but then a sigh escaped him, low and heavy, betraying the decision he was already circling toward.