He tapped the side of the headset. The garage faded to a dim gray, and the car’s engine block lit up like a Christmas tree. A diagnostic overlay bloomed into existence. Wires pulsed with colored light: green for healthy, yellow for weak, red for broken. He didn't need to guess. He could see the electricity hesitating before a corroded ground wire. He could watch the fuel injectors stutter in slow-motion data streams.

Tonight, it was a 1987 Porsche 944. The owner, a desperate college kid named Mateo, had said it "made a sound like a goblin choking on a harmonica." Leo had laughed and quoted a price of just the parts.

He lifted the visor, the magic vanishing. He was just a tired man in a dusty garage again. "Almost done, honey. Just one more bolt."

But it wasn't just a garage anymore. It was a "Garage Visio."

He pointed a gloved finger at the timing belt. The headset identified the micro-fractures he couldn't see with his naked eye, calculating the belt's remaining life to the nearest mile. A soft, synthesized voice whispered in his ear: "Torsional variance detected. Recommended action: Replace timing belt and water pump assembly. Link to parts supplier: open?"

But the real magic happened when he worked on a car.

He smiled. For the first time in months, he wasn't running from the future. He was building it, one glowing bolt at a time, in his garage.

"Leo? It's midnight. Are you coming to bed?" her avatar asked, her tone a mix of worry and weary affection.