"Just put it here. Thanks. You can go now."
Evelyn's words pulled Ethan out of his thoughts.
He looked at her fingers—tapping rhythmically on the desk, quietly placed the tray in front of her.
With smile, he said, "Oh, Evelyn, is there really no chance we can fix things between us?"
"No."
She took a spoonful of the clam soup, the rich, briny flavor making her squint in satisfaction.
"You disappoint me, Ethan. Do you know that?" she said, still stirring the soup gently.
"Our family may live off the land, and sure—our yearly income depends on the weather, and yes, we've had years of losses. But that doesn't mean we're poor. Thomas has built up solid wealth through years of smart business."
She paused, then looked him in the eye. "And our family isn't like those other shelter families, right? Linda's your aunt. Thomas is your uncle. Even though they can't have children, they treated you like their own son. They never even considered kicking you out when you turned eighteen."
Evelyn's tone sharpened. "With no financial pressure, I just don't understand—why were you so desperate to make money? Didn't you understand that time is the most precious thing you had?"
She shook her head slightly, a mixture of sadness and frustration flickering across her face. "You know what Thomas wants more than anything? He wants us to get out of the orchard. He just won't say it plainly. He always jokes that if we don't want to leave, we can work with him. But whenever we asked for SAT tutors or extra classes, he didn't hesitate—he paid for everything without a second thought."
Evelyn slammed her spoon into the bowl, the metal ringing sharply against the ceramic.
Ethan winced at the sound, but something softer stirred beneath it—nostalgia, regret. He quietly pulled over a stool and sat beside her. Carefully, he reached for the crab and began breaking off its legs.
"Evelyn, have you heard the saying: 'Age isn't the real test of maturity—look at the mind'? I was selfish, impatient, and reckless before. I hurt you, disappointed you, and I'm truly sorry. I'm not asking for forgiveness… just that you know I understand you now."
Evelyn stared at him, frowning, her expression guarded but curious. Without a word, she accepted the crab legs he handed her.
His friendly smile—a combination of earnestness—caught her off guard, causing her pupils to tighten for a moment. They locked eyes for a few beats before she lifted the crab legs and took a decisive bite.
After swallowing, she looked at him, her tone distant but probing. "How much did Magnavox pay you?"
"Seven months' salary plus a week's bonus," Ethan replied evenly.
Evelyn did a quick mental calculation. "That's over two thousand?"
"More than two thousand," he confirmed.
She nodded, then leaned forward slightly, setting down her crab. "What's your next move?"
Ethan sighed softly, "I still want to study—but my SATs have expired. Most universities ask for scores no older than two years. Mine are three."
Evelyn her tone softening. "Then take it again. If you need a refresher, I'll help you prepare—if you're willing."
Ethan's eyes brightened. "Thank you," he said, gratitude evident in his voice, even as he helped her pop the crab shell open.
He paused before speaking again. "Even so… reading and studying—they're not that important to me anymore. They don't help me as much as I thought.".
"Oh… sh—"
Evelyn cut herself off, dropping her hands and shooting Ethan a deeply disappointed look.
Before she could finish the curse, Ethan gently cut in, smiling slightly.
"Okay, okay, Evelyn! I know you're in a rush to scold me, but hold on—I said that for a reason."
He leaned back a little, trying to ease the tension with a calm tone.
"The fields I'm interested in now—just like you—are in engineering. But have you noticed something strange? Engineering, at least in this era, doesn't get the respect it deserves. I don't know whether to call it discrimination or just cultural bias… but I've definitely felt it."
He paused, gathering his thoughts, then continued, "Let me give you an example. At Magnavox—where I just worked—whenever someone with an engineering background applied, the hiring managers would always look for one thing on their résumé: Popular Electronics."
Evelyn's brow twitched, her expression unreadable.
"Seriously," Ethan said, his voice calm but sure, "they didn't care whether the applicant went to MIT or a local college. If they mentioned they followed Popular Electronics and had built or copied some device from it, that was enough to get them an interview."
He gave her a knowing smile, then pointed to the magazine on the desk.
"You probably know more about this than I do, right?"
His tone was casual, but something in his words gently pressed on the edge of her pride. The sharp lines of disapproval on Evelyn's face slowly softened—his words working, gently smoothing away her anger.
And that quiet confidence in Ethan's smile—it reached her. it drew her curiosity forward. Her brown eyes fixed on him, narrowed slightly, as if trying to look closer, to inspect this new version of her brother.
After a long moment, Evelyn sighed. A small smile tugged at her lips as she shook her head—half amused, half resigned. Then, wordlessly, she picked up the California roll and took a big bite.
In truth, ever since Ethan had realized he'd traveled back to 1975 America, he had been racking his brain, searching for a foothold in the rapidly evolving world of technology.
At first, he thought about going the conventional route—university, lectures, lab work, degrees.
But the more he looked into it, the clearer it became: the knowledge culture of 1970s America wasn't the same as the future he came from. It wasn't locked behind institutional gates.
At Magnavox, for instance, he had seen it firsthand. Every year when the company recruited new engineers, academic credentials weren't the first thing they checked.
The real litmus test?Popular Electronics.
If a resume mentioned that magazine—better yet, if the applicant had built something from its pages—they got the interview.
If not? Only then did a diploma come into play.
its strange hiring standard left Ethan stunned. No matter how he thought about it, he couldn't wrap his head around it—why would a hobbyist magazine hold more weight than a degree from a prestigious university?
But then, he managed to get his hands on a copy of Popular Electronics. He casually flipped through a few pages…
The article in question was just three pages long—but in those three pages, it taught the reader how to build a three-transistor portable radio using two 2N170 NPN transistors and a 2N107 PNP transistor. There was a complete parts list, a circuit diagram, and even layout guidance for a homemade chassis.
Just follow the diagram and solder things accordingly, and there is—a fully working radio that could pick up signals with a simple short-wire antenna. In one night.
That alone was insane. But then it got crazier.
If you were willing to spend a bit more time, you could clip on a signal booster using alligator clips and extend your reception range.
For medium-wave signals, you could experiment with magnetic cores and ferrite loop antennas to fine-tune reception.
By the time Ethan finished reading, he was having a full-blown existential crisis.
He felt like one of those confused meme characters from the future generation.
At one point, he genuinely began to question whether he had actually landed in America.
He'd studied, lived, and worked in the U.S. He knew how expensive technical education was—how closely guarded professional knowledge could be. It was no coincidence that Amazon started by selling books.
In his time, when capitalism truly valued knowledge, the intent was clear: make the information expensive, gatekeep the skills, stop the lower class from climbing up.
And yet here it was—1950s and '60s America, openly printing step-by-step engineering tutorials in mass-market magazines.
"this is outrageous," Ethan whispered to himself. For a moment, he was almost emotional.
This really A time when America actually deserved to be called the beacon of innovation.
Just when Ethan was thrilled by his discovery—ready to dive in and copy the design from Popular Electronics—reality hit him like a wrench to the face.
There were so many things he couldn't understand, let alone replicate.
He had no clue what differentiated an NPN transistor from a PNP one.
He'd forgotten every scrap of middle school physics before he even time-traveled. Terms like base current (IB) and collector current (IC) sounded more like banking jargon than components of electronic circuits. And as for superheterodyne circuits?
That might as well have been a spell from Harry Potter.
Ethan let out a long breath. Why did I study finance in my past life?
And why the hell didn't he get a cheat system like ChatGPT 4.0?
No help menu, no walkthrough, no AI sidekick whispering instructions in his ear. Just a stack of brilliant blueprints… and no idea how to read them.
Thankfully, there was still a sliver of hope.
The original Ethan had someone close by who might just save him from flunking the 1970s.
His sister, Evelyn—top of her class in computer science at Stanford's School of Engineering. Even as a teenager, she'd been obsessed with radio technology.
Back in '66, when she begged for a Popular Electronics subscription, Thomas not only signed her up—he shelled out a good chunk of money to help her track down every issue she'd missed from earlier years.
And when she asked if she could take apart the family TV to build a projector, he let her.
That memory alone made Ethan throw his idea of self-study out the window.
Why should I teach myself when I've got a walking, talking MIT-caliber prodigy sitting right across the table?
And judging from her current mood—cheeks puffed from California roll, calmly sipping clam soup, then cracking open the crab with the precision of a surgeon—she wasn't nearly as mad as she had been before.
After finishing the last bite, Evelyn wiped her mouth clean, folded the napkin, and fixed him with a level stare.
"Ethan."
"Uh-huh?" he replied cautiously.
"I know what you're thinking."
He blinked. "What?"
"You've got an idea," Evelyn said flatly, not even pausing. "Something that involves electronics or computers. You don't know how to build it… so now you want me to do it for you."
Her tone was matter-of-fact, like a seasoned detective presenting a solved case.
Before Ethan could speak, she added firmly, "Don't bother denying it. We've known each other almost twenty years. Do you remember back in high school? You begged me to build you a palm-sized walkie-talkie so you could sneak it into school and freak people out?"
Her words struck dead-on.
Like the saying went: "I know what you're shitting when you stick your butt out."
Caught red-handed, Ethan gave up the act. He raised both hands in mock surrender.
"Yeah~" he drawled. "Looks like I can't hide anything from you."
"Hmph!" Evelyn scoffed and gave him an exaggerated side-eye.
She stared at him for a few quiet seconds—this boy she'd grown up with, argued with, scolded, and still, somehow, couldn't stay mad at.
Finally, she sighed. "Okay, okay, I surrender. I can't beat you. Your personality's like a damn ox—stubborn and impossible to drag anywhere unless it's your idea. Only God knows what it takes to make you turn a corner."
She folded her arms and leaned back slightly. "So? Spill it. What do you want to do this time? I'll make it for you."
"Oh, Evelyn, you're amazing! I love you!"
Without wasting a second, he turned toward her bookshelf and scanned quickly through the magazines. A familiar cover caught his eye—Popular Electronics, January 1975.
He pulled it down, flipped it toward her, and pointed at the headline in the upper left corner: Altair 8800. A boxy machine was pictured centerfold, with blinking lights and a tangle of switches.
"Can you make this?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear.
Evelyn squinted at the page. For a second, confusion crossed her face.
"You little—" Without hesitation, she grabbed the crab and lobbed it at him.
Ethan ducked, laughing. "Oh Ethan! You did this on purpose, didn't you? Get out!"
Author's Note:
① The influence of Popular Electronics in real life was even more dramatic than what I described in the story.
Nearly every engineer who emerged during the 1950s through the 1980s had a subscription to it—including Bill Gates (Microsoft co-founder), Steve Wozniak (Apple co-founder), and David Gross (2004 Nobel Prize winner in Physics). The radio project mentioned in this chapter was originally published in the May 1960 issue.