Our TG Caption

The day-to-day operations of **DreamFrame Labs** tended to be mind-numbingly boring, as **Dr. Keegan** discovered in the days following their opening. The monotony of managing temperamental equipment and dodging calls from collection agencies was starting to take its toll; in fact the only respite from the boredom came from the occasional customer that would wander in from off the street. They had at last managed to get their first ever scheduled appointment, and Keegan was eager to impress. The business would continue hemorrhaging money if he didn’t build up a decent clientele, and the young scientist had been repeatedly reminded of his marketing shortcomings over the past few weeks.

**Mark and Susan** arrived at noon, a typical middle-class suburban white couple. They were closing in on middle age, both of them bearing a few wrinkles and grey hairs and carrying just a little bit of flab. Past their prime? Sure. But by no means were they frumpy or ugly. Payment had been upfront; $7500 for the full treatment on both of them, and Keegan was more than happy to oblige.

“Our neighbors had nothing but good things to say about this place,” Mark explained as Keegan led the couple towards the Testing Chamber. “We figured we would treat ourselves to something nice, y’know?”

“Mark is always spoiling me,” Susan said, reaching out to give her husband a playful slap on the shoulder.

“Anything for my special lady!” Mark leaned forward to give his wife a quick peck on the lips. “Would you like to go first, hun?”

“Of course! Ladies first!” She laughed as Keegan opened the door to the sterile Treatment Chamber.

As soon as the two men entered the shielded Control Room Keegan took a quick inhale, preparing to go off into his prepared speech; alternate realities, the nature of his invention, all of the boring technical details that helped prelude the inevitable first question that all of his clients wanted to ask:

“So you can do… anything?”

Keegan had briefly considered condensing all of this into something more informative than the pamphlets offered in the lobby, but detailing the nature of his valued invention would undoubtedly draw the wrong kind of attention. The outdated control computer was already humming to life, with diagnostic reports blinking across the CRT monitor letting them know that everything was in working order. Mark seemed like he needed a minute to think, to process the implications of what he had just been told… and Keegan needed to warm up the machine anyway. They were looking at Susan through the reinforced observation window, conflict playing out across her husband’s face; sometimes the clients needed a little push in the right direction to get over their inherent distrust of super-science.

“How about a belief package to start?” Keegan suggested, his fingers already tapping away at the keyboard. “Ever wondered what Susan would’ve been like if she’d never bought into all that rat race nonsense?”

The hum of the chamber deepened, and Susan shifted almost imperceptibly at first—then it was clear. Her shoulders slumped in a relaxed way, posture loosening as if a lifetime of self-conscious striving had never existed. The faint worry-lines around her brow softened, replaced with a permanent touch of amusement in her expression. The traces of tension that had marked her—tightness in the jaw, careful neatness in her clothing—melted away. Her outfit reshaped to match: gone were the pressed blouse and shapeless pants, replaced with a cheerful sundress patterned in daisies, paired with sandals that hinted she was always ready to kick them off at a moment’s notice.

Her body itself changed in subtle ways. She carried just a little more softness, the kind that came from never counting calories or stressing over appearances. She wasn’t flabby—just… comfortable. Carefree. Her hair loosened into a breezier cut, sun-streaked as though she spent afternoons outside without worrying about schedules or responsibilities.

Her memories twisted to align. Gone were the long nights fretting about her sales numbers or whether she’d keep up with coworkers. Gone was the anxious freshman who had once stayed awake comparing herself to others, desperate to prove herself. In her place was a woman who had simply never tried to claw her way upward. Susan had always told herself the “go-getters” could keep their careers and their competition—she preferred slow mornings, long chats with friends, and the little joys that didn’t need a paycheck or a promotion to validate them. To her, it had always been obvious: life was too short to race through.

A different woman stood in the Testing Chamber, and Mark noticed it immediately. Susan looked… younger, somehow, though not in body. Her expression radiated a careless joy, an ease that startled him. She seemed less like his driven wife and more like the kind of woman he might’ve met on a beach holiday in another life—content, relaxed, almost unshakable in her happiness.

Keegan leaned forward, flashing his salesman’s grin as he read the confusion on Mark’s face.

“See that? She never believed she was cut out for the rat race. Never chased promotions, never stressed over milestones. Just a woman who knows how to enjoy herself, who’s content without competing. Doesn’t it feel refreshing?”

Mark swallowed, his hand instinctively settling on his slightly pronounced belly, suddenly self-conscious. He had loved Susan’s determination, yes—but this version seemed freer, untouchable in her lightness. And that was its own kind of intimidating.