Failed Experiment

Lisa Loud considered the experiment a complete success.

At least, she did right up until it exploded.

The eight-year-old genius stood in her laboratory basement, adjusting a series of glowing tubes connected to a machine she called the Cognitive Resonance Analyzer.

Its purpose was simple.

Map personality traits.

Measure emotional responses.

Create a detailed neurological profile of the human mind.

Science.

Unfortunately, science occasionally had other plans.

“Subject Leni, please stand still,” Lisa said.

Leni smiled.

“Ooo! Are we making smoothies?”

“No.”

“A giant toaster?”

“No.”

“A toaster that makes smoothies?”

Lisa sighed.

“No.”

The machine hummed louder.

Leni giggled and waved at the blinking lights.

“They’re pretty.”

Before Lisa could explain why touching experimental equipment was a terrible idea, Leni accidentally bumped a control lever.

A warning light flashed.

Red.

Very red.

Lisa’s eyes widened.

“Oh dear.”

The machine emitted a loud ZZZZZZT.

A blinding flash filled the room.

Then silence.

Smoke drifted from the machine.

Leni blinked.

Lisa blinked.

Neither appeared injured.

For a moment, everything seemed fine.

Then Leni adjusted her glasses.

She wasn’t wearing glasses.

“Interesting,” she muttered.

Lisa stared.

“Leni?”

Leni folded her arms.

“The machine’s energy output exceeded projected tolerances by approximately thirty-seven percent.”

Lisa’s jaw dropped.

Meanwhile, Lisa looked around excitedly.

“Ooooo!”

She poked a beaker.

“Pretty colors!”

The realization hit both of them simultaneously.

“Oh no.”

“Oh wow!”

The rest of the family noticed something was wrong almost immediately.

At breakfast, Lisa skipped reading a physics journal and instead spent ten minutes making smiley faces in her pancakes.

Leni, meanwhile, was calculating the optimal syrup-to-pancake ratio.

Lincoln nearly dropped his fork.

“Okay, that’s weird.”

Luna pointed at Leni.

“Dude. Since when do you know calculus?”

Leni didn’t even look up.

“Since approximately eight seconds after an experimental personality transference event.”

Everyone stared.

Leni blinked.

“Why is everyone staring?”

“Because that sounded exactly like Lisa,” Lincoln said.

“Oh.”

Then she returned to solving equations on a napkin.

Across the table, Lisa placed a pancake on her head.

“It feels fancy.”

“Definitely weird,” Lincoln concluded.

By lunchtime, the swap had become impossible to ignore.

At school, Lisa spent art class decorating every surface with glitter.

Including herself.

Especially herself.

Meanwhile, Leni accidentally corrected the science teacher’s lecture on quantum mechanics.

The teacher spent five minutes trying to determine whether she was joking.

She wasn’t.

Back at home, chaos escalated.

Lori came downstairs and found Lisa reorganizing her wardrobe.

“Ooo! This dress is cute!”

Lisa held up one of Lori’s outfits.

Lori blinked.

“You’ve literally called clothing ‘a social construct’ before.”

Lisa smiled.

“It sparkles.”

Meanwhile, Leni had somehow taken over the garage.

A chalkboard covered one wall.

Equations covered the chalkboard.

Additional equations covered another chalkboard that hadn’t existed yesterday.

Lincoln cautiously approached.

“Leni?”

Leni looked up from a complicated formula.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Improving household energy efficiency.”

Lincoln examined the board.

“You built a nuclear reactor?”

“A small one.”

Lincoln backed away.

“Nope.”

The family eventually gathered in the living room for an emergency meeting.

Dad stood at the front.

“We need to fix this.”

Everyone agreed.

Especially because Lisa had started speaking almost entirely in fashion advice.

“And pink really complements your complexion, Lynn.”

Lynn looked terrified.

“Make it stop.”

Leni adjusted a notebook.

“The solution is obvious.”

“Which is?” Lori asked.

“We recreate the original experimental conditions.”

Everyone stared.

Leni continued.

“Assuming equivalent energy levels, identical positioning, and successful synchronization, the personality inversion should reverse.”

Lana raised her hand.

“In English?”

Leni sighed.

“We do it again.”

“Oh.”

That evening, the family assembled in Lisa’s laboratory.

The damaged machine sat in the center of the room.

Leni inspected every component carefully.

Lisa sat nearby painting tiny flowers on a microscope.

Lincoln watched nervously.

“Are we sure this is safe?”

“No,” Leni replied.

“Great.”

Leni made several adjustments.

The machine hummed.

Lights flickered.

Energy crackled between metal coils.

“Subjects, assume original positions.”

Lisa bounced into place.

“This is exciting!”

Leni stood opposite her.

“Commencing restoration sequence.”

The machine activated.

A brilliant blue glow filled the room.

Everyone held their breath.

The energy intensified.

The room shook.

Then...

FLASH.

Silence.

Smoke.

Again.

A familiar pattern.

Lincoln coughed.

“Did it work?”

For a second neither sister moved.

Then Lisa opened her eyes.

She immediately frowned.

“The machine’s calibration is off by 0.8 percent.”

Everyone gasped.

“LISA!” Lincoln shouted.

The real Lisa looked around.

“Why are you all shouting?”

Leni blinked.

“Ooo! The lights are pretty!”

The room erupted in cheers.

“It worked!” Luna yelled.

Lori sighed with relief.

Lynn practically celebrated.

Even Lucy smiled slightly.

Dad wiped away a tear.

“My daughters are back.”

The next morning everything had returned to normal.

Mostly.

Lisa sat at the breakfast table reading a scientific journal.

Leni happily admired her outfit.

The universe seemed balanced once again.

Then Leni looked at her cereal bowl.

“Huh.”

“What?” Lincoln asked.

Leni thought for a moment.

“The milk-to-cereal ratio is mathematically inefficient.”

Everyone froze.

Leni blinked.

“What?”

Across the table, Lisa slowly lowered her journal.

“I may have left a few residual cognitive patterns.”

Leni smiled.

“Is that bad?”

Lisa considered it.

“Probably.”

Then she returned to reading.

Leni shrugged and continued calculating cereal ratios.

The rest of the family exchanged nervous looks.

Maybe the experiment had ended.

Or maybe a tiny piece of genius had decided to stay behind.

Knowing the Loud family, they would find out soon enough.