The Corporate Miracle: A Rejuvenation Experiment

Joseph gave himself one last look in the hallway mirror and sighed. The sound was almost enough to make the seams of his brown satin dress beg for mercy.

He was waiting patiently for his cue to enter the company's lavish dining hall. After all, he was nothing less than the “main attraction of the evening.”

The grand finale.

The corporate miracle in human form.

It was supposed to be the presentation of the century, the definitive proof that the new rejuvenation serum developed by the biotech company was a gold mine. But, as with every great scientific breakthrough, the road to success had involved a few... creative liberties and industrial secrets that were never supposed to leave the laboratory.

Especially the catastrophic side effects.

The truth was that Joseph had never planned on becoming the project's poster child. He was simply a chief scientist in his sixties, with chronic back pain and an unfortunate fondness for cold coffee. He had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When one of the pressurized containers holding the top-secret formula exploded and soaked him from head to toe, Joseph thought he was going to melt.

What happened next challenged everything they knew about molecular biology.

Judging strictly by what the formula promised on paper, the product was an absolute success, worthy of a Nobel Prize. The serum had effectively erased four decades of cellular aging in a matter of minutes, leaving Joseph with the stunning, flawless appearance of someone in their twenties.

There was just one tiny, almost insignificant problem.

The development team had completely failed to predict what the serum would do to his chromosomes.

Joseph had entered the laboratory as a balding older man in a gray suit.

He had walked out looking like a fashion model ready for the Paris runway.

Now, balancing with heroic dignity on a pair of stiletto heels that felt like medieval instruments of torture, Joseph mentally reviewed the plan one last time.

On the inside, he was still the same old Joseph. The guy who just wanted to eat a few appetizers, talk about profit margins, and go home in time to watch the football game.

But for the sake of the company's stock price and everyone's year-end bonuses, the billionaire investors sitting around that dinner table didn't need to know about one small anatomical detail.

They only needed to see perfect skin, sign billion-dollar contracts, and applaud.

Adjusting his posture and praying he wouldn't trip over the carpet, Joseph smiled at a passing waiter.

The night was only beginning.

And the science show had to go on.

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