Luke Storey commits his first hack at dawn—precisely when the sun crests the horizon at a 30-degree angle, providing a supercharged light that he swears optimally dials his circadian rhythm and neurotransmitters. Sungazing is often followed by a ten-minute plunge in an industrial freezer full of 40-degree water—a jerry-rigged ice bath. After toweling off, the rangy, six-foot-three 50-year-old then ascends to the top of his Laurel Canyon property where he has converted a toolshed into a new-age gym that looks like it was outfitted by someone who has watched the
Iron Man trilogy a few too many times. There’s a hyperbaric chamber that he meditates in before he flips on the mitochondria-boosting light panels that hang from the walls. Naked, he stands for five minutes on a full-body-vibration plate before he plops into a chair covered by an infrared heating pad and plugs himself into several gizmos as he absorbs the natural energies emitted from a $15,000 machine called the Biocharger that, in theory, pumps up the voltage in human cells. His favorite biohack gadget, however, is in a nearby utility closet: a suitcase containing an aluminum canister with a tube that runs through a cooling mechanism ending in a foot-long catheter, five inches of which Storey inserts into his anus several times a week to pump ozone directly into his body. Once that’s all done, he’s ready for a cup of coffee.