Episode 2: The First Day
As the blue flash faded and Ra-on opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the air. It wasn't the sterile, purified air of 2026. It was a strange cocktail of dry dust, the heavy scent of grass, and the distant, rhythmic thrum of old internal combustion engines.
Ra-on scanned his surroundings slowly. "Wow... I'm really here."
The July 1976 California sun beat down with a dazzling intensity. People sitting on park benches were clad in what looked like costume pieces—bell-bottoms and shirts in loud, primary colors. The cars parked along the street boasted boxy hoods and clunky chrome accents. Not a sleek EV or a self-driving car in sight. It was surreal, as if he had stepped directly into a faded Polaroid photograph. A shiver of excitement ran down his spine.
A weathered sign at the park entrance clearly read: Palo Alto. A smirk played on Ra-on's lips. "Palo Alto... definitely near Stanford. It begins."
First priority: finding a base. Ra-on's hand instinctively reached for the S26 Ultra in his pocket, but he froze. This sleek titanium device with its massive 200-megapixel lens would look like alien technology to anyone in 1976. If he were caught, his dream of a peaceful college life would evaporate instantly.
Guarding his perimeter, he slipped into a grimy public restroom at the edge of the park. Inside, the tiles were chipped, and the air smelled of old plumbing. Only after locking himself in a stall did he cautiously pull out his phone.
The screen lit up, illuminating the cramped space. The map, synced with 2026 satellite data, flickered to life. His future tech bridged the fifty-year gap, filtering through 1976 Palo Alto real estate listings and vacant room data in real-time.
"Let's see... I need a decent studio not too far from the Stanford campus." A few listings appeared. Ra-on tapped on a studio in a quiet residential area, a fifteen-minute walk from the university's main gate. By 2026 standards, this building wouldn't even exist, but right now, it was his perfect base camp.
"Alright, this is the one." He tucked the phone deep into his inner pocket and stepped out. The weight of the tactical backpack pressed against his shoulders. Gripping the straps tight, he began to walk toward his destiny, his heart fluttering in the space between the future and the past. The hot summer wind of 1976 brushed through his hair.
Ra-on stopped in front of a weathered two-story wooden house. The light brown paint was peeling in spots, giving it that cozy yet rugged 70s vibe. The landlady, Mrs. Miller, was tending to her garden when she noticed the young Asian man with the oversized pack.
"Are you here about the room? A student?" Ra-on offered his well-rehearsed, natural smile. "Yes, ma'am. I'm La-on Han, a new student at Stanford. I'm looking for a quiet place to stay." He pulled out a roll of 1976-issue hundred-dollar bills. A small fortune for the era. "I'd rather skip the formalities and pay six months' rent upfront, if that's alright. Here's 1,200 dollars."
Mrs. Miller's eyes nearly popped out of her head. In an era where a small California studio went for about $200 a month, a cash offer for half a year was impossible to refuse. She handed him the keys immediately.
Inside, the room featured the era's signature dark wood paneling and orange shag carpet. Once the door was locked and the curtains drawn, Ra-on finally let out a sigh of relief and tossed his heavy bag onto the bed. "Phew... finally, my hideout."
He began to unpack his treasures. The MSI RTX 5060 laptop sat on the orange carpet, its cold titanium body reflecting a light that no machine in 1976 could hope to mimic. Next were his Watch 8 and Buds 4 Pro. The dark, silent screens looked like black diamonds on the desk. Finally, he pulled out his "identity"—the blue U.S. passport and the deepfake-perfected Stanford admission papers.
From the bottom of the bag, he retrieved a palm-sized folding panel: his own invention, a high-efficiency mini solar generator. "Time for breakfast," he joked, setting it on the sunlit windowsill. The 2026 high-density battery tech was so efficient it could charge fully even in the weak 70s sunlight. Ding. A pleasant notification sound filled the room as the charging bars began to climb.
Exhausted but satisfied, he flopped onto the old bed, the springs groaning beneath him. An old ceiling fan whirred lazily above. "This is insane. I'm actually here." He burst into a fit of giggles. "Living in the 70s as an American, with all the tech of 2026... this is basically playing a game with cheat codes."
Outside, the faint sound of the Bee Gees drifted from a neighbor's radio. Ra-on closed his eyes. "Tomorrow, I drop off the papers at Stanford. Is this the start of a legend?"
As evening settled over Palo Alto, the room was bathed in a long, orange glow. The silence of 1976 was far deeper than anything Ra-on had experienced in the hyper-connected future. No app notifications, no SNS feeds. It was unnerving.
"I'm bored. Maybe a movie?" He pulled the laptop onto his lap. The 4K OLED screen lit up the room with a brilliant clarity that would have blinded a 1976 resident. He clicked the Disney+ icon; the quantum-sync network showed full signal strength, defying the laws of time.
"Something for the 70s... Ah, here it is." He picked the 1973 classic,
"Man, this resolution is killer. Even the theaters out there can't match this right now." He chuckled, thinking about the films yet to come. "Next year is '77... so The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh comes out in the spring. And then..." Ra-on's eyes widened. "Star Wars! Or back then, they just called it Star Wars, not Episode IV. It opens next May! I'm one year away from the world being turned upside down."
He looked out the window at the peaceful street. "This is an unfair advantage. Everyone else has to wait a year, and I'm sitting here streaming the whole thing. I have to go to the premiere just to see their faces. It's going to be hilarious."
Hunger eventually pulled him away from the screen. His 2026 stomach, raised on instant food, craved something 'real.' He headed to the McDonald's next door.
The smell of deep-fried potatoes and grilled beef greeted him. The yellow arches, the clunky plastic seats, and the vintage mascots on the walls made him feel like he was on a movie set. He handed over a few crisp one-dollar bills. "One Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal, please." Total: $1.50. Ra-on shook his head at the price. But when he took a bite, his eyes went wide.
"Wow... why is this so good?" It was on a different level from the factory-processed patties of 2026. The meat was juicy, the vegetables crisp. He savored the taste of 'real ingredients' without the heavy preservatives of the future.
At the next table, two high school boys were obsessing over a catalog for the Magnavox Odyssey 2000. "Did you see? You can play tennis on your TV at home! It's a revolution!" one cried. "That's nothing," the other replied. "NASA says we might have cities on the moon soon. By the 1980s, everyone will be a space traveler!"
Ra-on smirked as he dipped a fry in ketchup. (Kids, that game console you call a miracle... my laptop does calculations millions of times more complex in a single second.) He felt a surge of smug superiority, but it was quickly followed by a sense of respect. (But then again, it's because you kids dreamed and built those things that I have the tech I do in 2026. What I have is the future you guys created.)
He resisted the urge to pull out his phone. In this peaceful world, showing off a 200MP camera and an AI assistant would shatter their pure dreams. Feel the superiority, but do not interfere.
Back in his hideout, Ra-on prepared for bed. He activated the noise-canceling on his Buds, drowning out the creaks of the wooden house and the crickets outside. Perfect silence. Only him and the sound of the future.
He put on
Seeing Jyn Erso risk her life for the Death Star plans felt surreal, knowing that somewhere out there in July 1976, George Lucas was probably losing sleep in an editing room, frustrated with his special effects. "Director Lucas, you're probably pulling your hair out right now, huh? You have no idea that your universe will look this real in forty years."
As the movie bled into the opening of
With the iconic hum of a lightsaber vibrating in his ears, he drifted off into a deep sleep. His mind was a swirl of his new life at Stanford and the future movies that hadn't even been born yet. The first night of Han Ra-on, the man from 2026, deepened into the air of 1976.