Henry felt an indescribable warmth, like soaking in the most comfortable hot spring.
More light and heat streamed into his body through every inch of skin and every seam of his armor. Without Earth's thick atmosphere to act as a filter, the sunlight here was pure, pristine—and far more nutritive. He could feel every cell greedily devouring that vast energy. The absorption and conversion rates were many times higher than on the surface.
"Hey, Jarvis," he said over the comms, voice lazy with contentment, "this feels pretty good."
"Sir," Jarvis replied, precise as ever, "your reported comfort level is consistent with increased solar flux at this altitude."
Henry stretched and grinned. "It's better than any spa. Imagine a solar-powered sunbathing membership—VIPs get a close-up view of Earth. Brilliant business, right?"
"Here's the thing," Jarvis said, "the number of customers who can reach orbit is effectively zero. Also, you would face litigation from multiple space agencies for unauthorized use of orbital resources."
"That's boring," Henry scoffed, curling his lips. "You old electronics guy don't understand high-end markets. Forget it—I won't bother explaining to someone with zero business acumen."
Warmth flowed from his limbs into his brain, lulling him toward sleep. "I'm feeling sleepy, Jarvis. Keep an eye out. If any weird aliens try to kidnap me while I nap, wake me up. I don't want to be the subject of some cosmic experiment."
"I will monitor you, sir. Any unauthorized organism approaching will trigger the highest-level alarm," Jarvis confirmed.
Henry closed his eyes in the golden sunlight and let his body float freely in the quiet of space, peaceful as a child in its mother's arms.
After he relaxed, the absorption rate climbed exponentially. His armor behaved like a miniature black hole, drawing in photons and converting them into bio-energy. A silent evolution began inside him. Time blurred—seconds lengthened into what felt like centuries, then snapped back into an instant.
Below him, the blue planet slowly turned; day became night over Los Angeles. Suddenly Henry opened his eyes, confusion flickering across his face.
"Fuck," he muttered, half-awake. "Jarvis, how long was I out? It felt like a second. I could've slept forever."
"According to time records, you slept for ten hours and twenty-three minutes," Jarvis said. "Local time in Los Angeles is 10:47 p.m. It is dark there."
"Only ten hours?" Henry sounded incredulous. "Why am I awake? Did I get cold? Is the space air-conditioning too low?"
"Your bio-force field perfectly insulates against external cold. That is not the cause," Jarvis replied. "However, your energy monitors indicate that after absorbing an immense amount of solar energy, your physiology reached a critical threshold and underwent a spontaneous transformation. In lay terms: your solar charging subsystem just received a hardware-level upgrade. Charging efficiency has significantly increased."
Henry checked his body, then a surprised smile spread across his face. "My eyes feel hot and a little itchy—do I have heat vision now? Like, I stare and things get cooked? That would be handy. I'd never have to buy roast beef again."
"Sir," Jarvis said with a hint of surprise, "I am detecting a rapid convergence of specialized bio-energy toward the ocular region. Intensity is rising."
Henry lowered his head, looked at his unchanged hands, then raised his face. A sudden, dazzling red light flared in his eyes. He smirked.
"Because I might never have to eat roast beef again," he said.
Two beams of scorching red light shot from his eyes.
They moved with lethal precision and struck a U.S. military reconnaissance satellite in a distant orbit. There was no sound in the vacuum, but against the backdrop of cosmic silence the satellite behaved like a plastic toy tossed into a furnace: it melted, deformed, then disintegrated, erupting in a silent, brilliant cloud of debris. The beams continued and hit a second communications satellite linked to the first. Another flash—another dissolution into orbital fireworks.
"Outrageous," Henry said, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Jarvis—did you see that? I only wanted to test the new function and grill some chicken wings. I didn't mean to take down the military's treasure. They don't have insurance on that, right? They can't bill me, can they?"
The red glare in his eyes faded and the burning sensation vanished.
"Based on the energy readings," Jarvis reported, "the ocular emission reached an instantaneous peak temperature of approximately sixteen hundred degrees Celsius. This appears to be thermal ocular projection—commonly referenced as thermal vision."
Jarvis's voice carried unmistakable surprise. "Additionally, your actions destroyed two official U.S. Department of Defense satellites and will likely cause temporary GPS disruption for parts of North America."
Henry blinked, then shrugged with the same casual arrogance he'd carried into orbit. "That's too bad. On the bright side, the space solarium is wildly effective. I feel stronger—faster. This upgrade is better than making money."
"Your baseline strength has more than doubled," Jarvis said. "Speed and defensive capabilities have increased proportionally."
"Doubled?" Henry counted on his fingers, then inhaled. "So I can lift over a hundred tons now? If I sleep in space every day, will I be able to punch the Earth in a month?"
"Theoretically, sir, as long as you have a continuous energy supply, your upper limit could keep increasing. Practically speaking, there are constraints we must consider—material fatigue, armor integrity, and geopolitical repercussions."
"Infinite is a nice word," Henry said, nodding with satisfaction. "But being alone up here is boring—no pretty girls, no champagne, no one to talk to."
He trailed off as Jarvis's voice interrupted with its usual measured urgency. The upgrade was real. The power was real. The consequences were also very real. Henry floated there, newly primed and dangerous, grinning into the sun—part man, part solar battery, and entirely ready for whatever came next.