"Jesus, kid. You scared me." Uncle Ben walked to the coffee maker. He moved on autopilot. Muscle memory from a thousand mornings doing the same routine. "You're up early, buddy."
"Couldn't sleep anymore," Peter said. It was true in a way. He'd just spent twenty-four hours awake. Even if his body didn't feel it, his mind knew what happened.
"Yeah? Me neither." Uncle Ben poured water into the coffee maker. The machine gurgled to life. He grabbed his favorite mug from the cabinet. The one with the chipped handle that Aunt May kept trying to throw away. Uncle Ben refused. Said it had character. "Want some juice?"
"Yes please."
Uncle Ben got the orange juice from the fridge. Store brand. The cheap stuff. He poured a small glass and set it carefully in front of Peter. Then he sat down across from him with his empty mug. Waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.
They sat in comfortable silence. This was nice. Just being together without needing to talk. Morning light started creeping through the kitchen window. Soft and gray at first. Gradually getting brighter.
The toaster popped. Uncle Ben had put bread in without Peter noticing. The man could multitask like that. Moving through the kitchen making breakfast while barely paying attention.
Peter took a sip of his juice. The tartness made him blink. He watched Uncle Ben butter his toast. Watched him pour coffee into his chipped mug. Watched him add exactly two spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk.
'He does everything the same way,' Peter thought. 'Same routine every morning. Same motions. Like a dance he's performed ten thousand times.'
"Uncle Ben?" Peter asked.
"Yeah?" Uncle Ben bit into his toast. Crumbs fell onto his pajama shirt. He didn't notice.
"What does 'infrastructure' mean?"
Uncle Ben paused. His coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth. He set it down slowly on the table. His eyes focused on Peter with sudden intensity.
"That's a big word for a little guy." His voice was careful. Curious. "Where'd you hear that?"
"In one of your books."
"You're reading my books?" Uncle Ben leaned forward. "Which books?"
Peter nodded. "Is that okay?"
Uncle Ben's face did something complicated. Multiple emotions fighting for control. Pride showed first. Then confusion. Then something that might have been concern. His eyebrows pulled together. His mouth opened and closed.
"Of course it's okay. I just..." He ran a hand through his hair. Gray mixed with brown. More gray every year. "You're three, Peter. Most kids your age are still learning their ABCs. You're reading engineering textbooks?"
"Not just engineering." Peter took another sip of juice. "History too. And science. And some novels but those are kind of boring. The love stuff doesn't make sense."
"Boring." Uncle Ben laughed. The sound came out weird. Strained. Like he wanted to laugh but couldn't quite manage it. "Kid, you're something else. You know that?"
Peter didn't know what to say to that. He drank his juice instead. The tartness didn't bother him as much this time.
Uncle Ben kept staring at him. Studying him. Like Peter was a puzzle he couldn't solve. A problem that didn't have an obvious answer.
Footsteps on the stairs broke the moment. Aunt May came down wrapped in her old blue robe. The one with the coffee stain on the sleeve that never quite washed out. Her hair was still messy from sleep. She tied the robe tighter and yawned.
"Morning boys." Her voice was rough. Sleep still clinging to it. "What are we talking about?"
"Peter's been reading my books," Uncle Ben said. His voice was flat. Neutral. But something lurked underneath it.
Aunt May smiled. Warm and automatic. "That's wonderful. What kind of books, sweetie?"
"All of them," Peter said.
The smile faltered. Froze on her face. "All of them?"
"Well. Most of them. I'm still working on the really thick ones."
Aunt May's smile disappeared completely. She looked at Uncle Ben. Uncle Ben looked back at her. Some silent conversation happened between them. The kind married people have without words. Eyebrows raising. Lips pressing together. Tiny head movements that meant entire sentences.
Peter watched them communicate. A whole discussion happening in seconds. Should we be worried? Is this normal? What do we do?
"Peter," Aunt May said carefully. She moved to the table and sat down beside Uncle Ben. Her hands clasped together. "Have you been understanding what you read?"
"Mostly." Peter traced his finger around the rim of his glass. "Some words are hard. But I can figure them out from context. Like 'infrastructure.' I thought it meant the metal parts that hold up buildings. But from the sentence, it sounds like it means all the important systems that make cities work. Roads and water and electricity and stuff."
More silent looks between the adults.
Aunt May's hands tightened together. Her knuckles went white. "Ben," she said quietly. "Is this normal?"
"I don't know." Uncle Ben's voice was rough. "Maybe we should talk to someone?"
"Talk to who? A doctor?" Aunt May's voice rose a little. Not quite panic but heading that direction. "What do we say? Our three-year-old is too smart?"
Peter felt his stomach tighten. Cold spreading through his chest. 'I messed up. I got too comfortable. Showed too much too fast. They're scared of me now.'
"I can slow down," he said quickly. The words tumbled out. "I don't have to read the hard books. I can just read kids' books. Picture books. I'm sorry."
Aunt May's face crumpled. She dropped to her knees beside his chair. Her hands took his small ones. Warm and gentle. "Oh sweetie, no. You're not in trouble. You didn't do anything wrong. We're just... surprised. That's all. You're very special."
"I don't want to be special." Peter's voice came out small. "I just want to read."
Uncle Ben laughed for real this time. Deep and genuine. The tension in the kitchen broke like a snapped rubber band. "Then you read, kid. Read everything you want. We'll figure out the rest as we go."
He stood up and walked over. His rough hand ruffled Peter's hair. "Besides, having a genius nephew? That's something to be proud of. Just don't get too smart. You'll make your old uncle look bad."
Aunt May squeezed Peter's hands once more before letting go. She stood up and wiped her eyes quickly. "How about pancakes for breakfast? Would that be good?"
"Yes please," Peter said.
"Good." She moved to the cabinet. Got out the mixing bowl. Flour and eggs and milk. "Then pancakes it is. And Peter? You can read whatever you want. Anytime you want. Okay?"
"Okay."
Peter watched her make pancakes. Watched Uncle Ben drink his coffee and read the newspaper. Morning sunlight filled the kitchen properly now. Warm and golden.
Everything was okay. They weren't scared. They weren't angry. They were just... surprised. That's all.
'I can work with that,' Peter thought. 'I just need to be more careful. Show progress but not too much progress. Keep them comfortable.'
The system's timer already counted down in the corner of his vision. Twenty-three hours until he could enter the acceleration dimension again. Twenty-three hours until he had another full day to learn and grow and prepare.
Peter smiled and ate his pancakes. Uncle Ben told a joke about his boss at the factory. Aunt May laughed. Everything was normal.
Only Peter knew.
Every day he got stronger.
Smarter.
More ready for what was coming.
'I'll save them,' he promised himself silently. 'Whatever it takes. However long it takes. I'll be ready when the time comes.'
His heart had grown fond of his uncle and aunt and he truly loved them as his own blood.
The morning continued. Normal and peaceful. Just another day in the Parker household.
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