Max hunched over his messy workbench, the soft buzz of the aged fluorescent light overhead the only noise in the otherwise quiet room. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hands shaking ever so slightly from the long trial and error. Tools, wires, and unfinished components cluttered the area around him, a testament to his dogged effort to complete the suit his father had begun. It seemed as if he'd tried everything.

  He thumbed through his father's notes, his eyes passing over the same equations, the same drawings he'd seen a hundred times. Each time, the pieces had fallen just out of alignment. Frustration swept over him. "What am I missing? There's something here… something important," Max grumbled, massaging his weary eyes.

  He shut the notebook, gazing at the blueprint on the table before him. It was like looking at a puzzle with all the pieces scattered just beyond his grasp. He sighed, his brain struggling to penetrate the haze of uncertainty. His father had been a genius. And Max… Max was a failure.

  Breathing deeply, he opened the notebook once more, this time taking his time in reading, approaching the equations with a new point of view. It was then, as if the pages were speaking to him, that he noticed it—a tiny note on the margin, hardly readable. "Energy core—wiring configuration, split power flow."

  His heart leaped. That was all it was. He had been wiring the core incorrectly. He had overlooked the key detail regarding the split power flow. Without that, the energy could not be channeled correctly. It had been staring him in the face the whole time, but he'd been so preoccupied with the larger picture that he'd not seen the small but important detail.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Oh my God, it's so easy. Why didn't I notice it earlier?" Max muttered to himself.

  A feeling of calmness descended on him as he took hold of the wires, his hands with a fresh assurance. His brain whirred as he set about realigning the energy core, paying close attention to the manual that he had almost forgotten. His heart hammered within his chest as he checked all the connections twice, his sense of duty from his father goading him into action.

  With one last surprise, he clipped the final wire and stepped back, looking at the energy core in the suit. "Here goes nothing," Max whispered, his voice with both fear and anticipation. He turned on the power.

  For an instant, nothing. The room was quiet. Then, as if answering Max's silent request, the energy core burst to life. A pale blue light filled the chest plate of the suit, weak but unmistakable. The power vibrated softly, steady and immense.

  "It's working! This is it!" Max yelled, his face splitting into a grin. His breath stopped in his throat as the significance of the moment hit him. This was the first actual indication that his father's project, their project, was actually going to work.

  Tears of pride and relief welled up in his eyes. He sat back against the workbench, allowing the enormity of what he had done to sink in. His father had created this. His father had dreamed of this moment precisely, and now Max had made it real.

  "I'm doing it, Dad. I'm actually doing it," Max whispered, the words spilling from his lips near shock. The suit, even unfinished, was a testament to the legacy his dad had established, and to the man Max was beginning to genuinely think he could become.

  In that instant, something inside Max changed. The nagging self-doubt he had carried around for so many years receded into the background. There was no longer any place for doubt. His father's work was no longer something to live up to—it was a mission. And Max was ready to proceed.