Becoming a Superstar 1988: Being Edited

Unknown Location

Year 2125 February 6th

Dr. Henry Jones, a seasoned neuroscientist, walks down a spacious hallway, his name badge clipped to the front of his pristine white lab coat.

At 60 years old, Henry stands around 178 centimeters tall, his appearance unremarkable but dignified. He has short, white hair, a clean-shaven face, and wears a pair of round glasses that lend him a scholarly air. His calm demeanor, honed over decades of research, hides a mind brimming with unparalleled expertise in the complex world of neuroscience. He specializes in the physiology, biochemistry, and molecular biology of neurons, glial cells, and neural circuits, with a focus on their roles in both health and disease.

In addition to his mastery of neuroscience, Henry possesses a deep understanding of mechanical engineering, a skill set that has become indispensable in his latest project. As he approaches his lab, he exchanges a nod with Mike, a burly security guard stationed nearby.

"Good evening, Mr. Jones. Isn't it a bit late for you to be here?"

Henry glances at Mike, a towering man with a friendly smile, and responds with a chuckle. "It's fine, Mike. Being home alone isn't all that exciting at my age. I'd rather keep busy with my research."

Mike shakes his head with a grin. "Alright, just remember—everyone's supposed to be out by 11:30."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Henry replies, waving as he continues toward his lab.

For the past 25 years, Henry has been working on a groundbreaking project: the Aplus Helmet. It's a device he has painstakingly developed for over three decades. The helmet is designed to enhance cognitive functions, bolster memory, and even implant new knowledge directly into the brain, effectively giving users information they had never learned on their own.

Recognizing the immense potential of Henry's work, the U.S. government became deeply interested after his recent breakthrough. Soon after, government agents arrived at his home, whisking him away to a secure research facility within Area 51. With access to the most advanced resources and technology, Henry's research has progressed in ways he could never have imagined. His relocation to the base is a testament to how critical his work has become.

In addition to a substantial funding boost, the U.S. government granted Henry full autonomy to recruit his own team of specialists. Over the past decade, he conducted numerous experiments, successfully implanting new information into carefully selected individuals. Initially, he tested on those suffering from mental illnesses, eventually expanding his trials to subjects with average mental capacities.

The results were astounding. In just a matter of days, many of his test subjects transformed into prodigies. With their enhanced cognitive abilities, some became master programmers, others expert mathematicians, all gaining near-photographic memory and skills they had never studied. Henry's research had turned ordinary people into geniuses, and now he was preparing for the next phase of his project: implanting his own knowledge and memories into another person, while allowing the recipient to retain their own identity.

One evening, while working alone in his lab, a sudden, deafening boom erupted outside the room. The unmistakable sound of machine-gun fire echoed through the corridors, growing louder by the second.

Alarmed, Henry sprang into action, his heart racing as the base's alarm system blared throughout the facility. His mind reeled at the thought of an attack on a highly secure U.S. military base—it seemed impossible. But this was no time to ponder; he had to secure his research and find a safe place to hide.

With urgency, Henry began erasing the data from his computers, methodically destroying physical documents as flames consumed years of hard work. The situation deteriorated rapidly. Moments later, a group of armed men stormed into the lab.

Leading the group was a tall, burly figure, dressed head-to-toe in military camouflage. His face was obscured by a black mask. He walked in casually, as if the chaos unfolding around him didn't matter.

"You must be the great Professor Henry Jones," the man said, chuckling. "I'm a big fan of your work."

Henry tore his gaze away from his erasing computer monitor, staring at the intruder. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Come with us peacefully, Professor," the man continued, his voice oozing false politeness. "We wouldn't want to disrupt your important work, would we?"

As his men began gathering any research materials Henry hadn't yet destroyed, they roughly seized him, dragging him toward the exit.

"Where are you taking me?" Henry asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," the masked man replied, laughing softly. "Have a little patience, Professor."

As they moved through the ravaged facility, Henry couldn't help but notice the bodies of fallen soldiers strewn across the floor, their uniforms stained with blood. The once-impregnable military base had been reduced to chaos.

"Are you insane?!" Henry demanded, his fear giving way to anger. "This is a U.S. military base—you won't get away with this!"

The burly man laughed again, unfazed. "We already have, Professor. Now, it's time to see just how valuable your research really is."

"U.S. military—what a joke," one of the masked men sneered. "If it weren't for the billions you Americans pour into weapon technology, your soldiers wouldn't stand a chance." The rest of the men chuckled in agreement.

Henry remained silent, knowing there was some truth to their words. The United States wasn't the powerhouse it once was. Over the past century, it had weakened due to political, economic, and social upheavals. Yet, they weren't so weak as to be easily overrun like this, he thought.

As they entered another section of the base, Henry's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight before him. He could hardly comprehend what he was looking at. In the center of the massive room stood a large machine—its sleek design unmistakable.

"Looks like they're nearly done with it... the first-ever time machine," the masked man muttered, his voice betraying his own awe.

Their leader barked orders, snapping them out of their trance. "Stop gawking! Round up all the scientists and grab any research data you can find—quickly!"

As the men scattered to follow their orders, Henry stood frozen, still grappling with the impossible sight of a working time machine. Suddenly, a familiar voice called his name.

"Henry, over here!" A middle-aged man in his late forties waved him over. It was Marcus, an old colleague and longtime friend.

Still clutching the box with the Aplus helmet inside, Henry made his way cautiously to Marcus.

"Henry, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be with your son and daughter," Marcus asked, his voice strained with concern.

"I should be asking you the same," Henry replied, his voice filled with disbelief. "What is all of this? A time machine? Why in the world would you build such a thing?"

Marcus glanced around nervously, lowering his voice. "There's no time for a full explanation. You once said the Aplus Helmet could be linked to other devices, right?"

Henry's eyes widened in realization. "What are you suggesting?" he asked, dreading what Marcus might be implying.

Marcus shook his head, regret heavy in his tone. "You and I—we're old now, Henry. What's the point of trying to live longer? If I can hack into the machine's system, I can overload it, trigger a shutdown, and stop these people from stealing our national secrets."

Henry sighed deeply, contemplating the gravity of the situation. "If there's no other way... then do it. But be quick. They're watching us closely."

With a brief nod, Marcus and Henry hurried into action. As other scientists discreetly blocked the view of the armed men, Henry and Marcus began working on linking the Aplus Helmet to the time machine's control system. Every second was a gamble.

As Henry glanced back at the towering machine—an engineering marvel—he couldn't help but voice the question gnawing at him. "Can this thing really send a person back in time?"

Marcus, busy connecting the Aplus Helmet to the time machine, gave a wry smile. "Not a chance. It's designed to send messages and information back into the past—that's the theory, at least."

"Ah, that makes more sense," Henry muttered, still harboring deep doubts about the feasibility of such a thing.

Sensing Henry's skepticism, Marcus said nothing and continued his task. They were running out of time.

"Sir, we've gathered everything," one of the masked men reported, his voice urgent.

"Good. We're short on time, so let's prepare to move ou—" The commander stopped mid-sentence, his head snapping toward the machine. "Wait, what's that sound?"

Whoosh! The machine's gears began spinning rapidly, the hum growing louder and more frantic by the second. Panic rippled through the room.

"Who turned it on?" the commander shouted, but it was too late. The machine whirred out of control, and in an instant, a deafening explosion rocked the room. A blinding white light swallowed everything, obliterating all sense of space and time.

The world shifted.

Now, a young boy—no more than 11 or 12—lay in a hospital bed, his eyelids fluttering open. His gaze fixed on the sterile light above, blinking in confusion as though waking from a long, surreal dream. Was what he saw just a dream, or could it have been a vision of something yet to come?

"Alex!" a woman's voice rang out, filled with relief and emotion. A beautiful woman with tear-streaked cheeks rushed to his side.

"You're awake, sweetie! Are you alright? Do you feel any pain? Should I call a doctor?" she asked, her hands trembling as she reached out to him.

The boy, still groggy and confused, looked at her, trying to make sense of his surroundings. "I think I'm fine, Mother," he replied, his voice uncertain, as if the line between dream and reality had yet to settle.

June 19, 1987 - Brooklyn

In one of Brooklyn's hospitals lay a boy with a charming face, though his expression was one of confusion as he stared at the doctor standing before him.

The doctor, equally puzzled, began to examine the boy. His surprise deepened as he reviewed the results of the examination. According to the boy's medical records, the patient before him—Alexander Robert Carter Williams—had always exhibited severe learning disabilities and was considered mentally challenged from a young age.

Alexander's full details flashed through the doctor's mind:

Full name: Alexander Robert Carter Williams

Date of birth: July 23, 1975

Sex: Male

Place of birth: Brooklyn Hospital Center, USA

Mother: Martha Johnson Williams, born December 17, 1953, in New Orleans, USA

Father: Matthew Oliver Williams, born October 23, 1953, in London, England

The doctor couldn't shake the feeling that the boy in front of him wasn't the same 12-year-old who had struggled with mental challenges. Instead, he seemed like a normal child who had just endured a life-threatening event. There were no visible signs of mental impairment, and the boy comprehended everything they discussed with surprising clarity. This led the doctor to question whether the case files had been mixed up with someone else's.

However, Alexander's mother, Martha, confirmed that the records were correct and that her son's previous condition had been as described.

After the doctor left the room, Martha looked at her son in disbelief. She couldn't comprehend how fluently he had spoken with the doctor. She vividly remembered the difficulty he used to have communicating with others.

Alex, meanwhile, looked closely at his mother, recognizing her from his memories. Martha Williams—his mother—appeared to be in her late twenties, with dark brown skin, jet-black curly hair, and striking hazel eyes that seemed almost golden. She was a stunning woman with an impressive figure to match.

Even the male doctor couldn't help but steal a quick glance at Martha. Alex bore a striking resemblance to her, though his skin tone was much lighter, and his facial features were softer. As Martha ended her phone call with Alex's father, she continued talking to her son.

But Alex's thoughts were elsewhere. He couldn't stop thinking about the vivid dreams he'd experienced during the two months he had been in a coma.

His mind was a whirlwind of confusing but somehow coherent thoughts. His head was filled with memories and information about movies, video games, music, television series, and fashion trends—all from a different time. He even envisioned devices that seemed decades ahead of his current era, which he found hard to believe were possible. Yet, what shocked him more was that he knew exactly how these devices worked, down to their internal mechanisms.

Even more bizarre, Alex realized he had acquired knowledge in fields he had never studied before—programming, engineering, business management, hacking, and more. It was as though his mind had been filled to the brim with various skills and concepts he had no prior exposure to.

"Alex?... Alex?"

"Hey! Are you even listening to me? Honestly, it's like you've forgotten everything we taught you about respecting others."

"Ah… I'm really sorry, Mother. What were you saying again?" Alex asked, lowering his head in embarrassment.

"Huh... It's fine. I'm just thankful you're okay now," Martha said with a sigh. She had feared that her little boy would never wake up and had nearly lost all hope—until today.

"However, who would have thought that this incident would somehow help you in this way?"

Looking at the son she had cared for all these years, now able to hold a smooth conversation with her, brought immense joy to her heart. She had silently wished for this day to come for so long.

"Well, your father is on his way with your brother to see you soon. I hope you'll never sneak out of the house in the middle of the night again after this incident, do you hear me, young man?"

Martha's eyes sharpened with a stern look, leaving no room for debate.

"Yes, Mother, it will never happen again," Alex replied, unable to meet her fierce gaze—she looked like a lioness ready to pounce.

Alex's thoughts drifted back to the events leading up to his current situation. He had snuck out of the house after hearing loud banging noises outside. Believing they were fireworks, as he'd seen on TV, he followed the sounds into an alleyway.

However, upon reaching the source of the noise, he suddenly collapsed after being hit multiple times.

Looking at his body now, he noticed bandages on his shoulder, stomach, and other places. He had been shot eight times. It was a miracle he survived.

The doctor had told him that none of the bullets had hit vital organs, so there shouldn't be any long-term issues. He could be released after completing his check-up.

Despite the near-death experience, Alex couldn't help but feel excited about what he'd gained from it. His mental disabilities were gone, and he felt more intelligent than ever before.

With this newfound knowledge, he could potentially achieve great things—even conquer the world if he wanted to. But that would have to wait until he was out of the hospital. He was already formulating plans on how to achieve his goals.

He still needed to figure out how his mind and body had been affected by this sudden change. Even though the helmet was designed to enhance the human brain, it wasn't supposed to transfer memories through space and time.

From what Alex knew about the Aplus helmet, it was never meant to do anything like that. He had no memory of any future event involving a time machine, so how had this happened?

It was too early to celebrate his recovery. For all he knew, this might only be temporary, and he could still die from whatever was happening to his brain. For now, he had no choice but to wait and see what happened next.