Peter woke up in the middle of the night. Something had pulled him from sleep. A sound maybe. Or just a feeling that something was wrong.
He lay still in his bed for a moment. The house was dark around him. His bedroom door was cracked open just a little. The hallway light wasn't on.
Then he heard it again. Voices came from downstairs. Uncle Ben and Aunt May were talking. Their voices were raised.
Not quite yelling but close to it. Loud enough to carry up the stairs and through the quiet house.
Peter had never heard them talk like this before. They were always gentle with each other. Patient. Kind. This was different.
He pushed his blanket aside and got out of bed. His small feet touched the cold floor. He crept out of his room slowly. Carefully.
Making sure not to make any noise.
He moved to the top of the stairs and sat down quietly on the first step. The wood was hard and cold beneath him. He leaned forward slightly so he could hear better. The voices became clearer.
"We can't keep doing this, Ben," Aunt May said. Her voice sounded tired. So tired. Strained like she'd been holding something heavy for too long. "The electric bill is overdue. The mortgage payment is coming up. We're barely scraping by."
Peter's chest tightened. Overdue bills. Mortgage payments. He knew what those words meant.
Money problems.
"I know, May. I know." Uncle Ben's voice was heavy with frustration. Peter could hear it clearly. The way his words came out rough and worn down. "I'm doing everything I can. Working overtime when they offer it. Picking up extra shifts whenever possible. But it's not enough. It's never enough."
There was a pause. Peter heard footsteps. Someone pacing maybe. Then Aunt May spoke again
"Maybe I should get a job too. Something part-time. A few hours a day while Peter's playing or reading.
"You already do so much." Uncle Ben's voice rose slightly. "Taking care of Peter. Managing the house. Cooking and cleaning and everything else. I don't want you to—"
"We might not have a choice, Ben." Aunt May's voice cracked a little. "We might not have a choice anymore."
Silence fell. Heavy and oppressive. Peter sat frozen on the stairs. His small hands gripped the edge of the step beneath him.
His stomach twisted into knots. A cold feeling spread through his chest. They were struggling because of him. The thought hit him like a physical blow.
Food costs money. Every meal he ate cost something. Clothes cost money. The shirts and pants Aunt May bought him weren't free.
The library books were free but everything else wasn't. Electricity for the lights in his room. Water for his baths. Heat in the winter.
He was another mouth to feed.
Another person to take care of. Another expense in a household that was already struggling.
'I need to help them,' Peter thought desperately. His mind raced. 'But how? I'm three years old. What can I possibly do?'
He couldn't get a job. Couldn't earn money. Couldn't contribute anything useful. He was just a burden. A weight they had to carry.
The voices downstairs continued but Peter stopped listening.
He stood up quietly and went back to his room. Closed the door softly behind him. Climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to his chin.
But he couldn't sleep. His mind wouldn't stop working. Racing through possibilities and problems. Dead ends and impossible solutions.
Money. They needed money. How did people make money? The question spun in his head.
Jobs. That was the normal answer. Go to work and get paid. But he was too young for that. Nobody would hire a three-year-old child.
Business? Same problem. He couldn't start a company. Couldn't sign contracts or manage finances. The legal system wouldn't recognize him.
He stared at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars Uncle Ben had put up there looked dim now. Fading.
Then an idea hit him. Sudden and clear.
Patents. Inventions. People made money from creating things. New technology. New products. Things the world didn't have yet. Things that could change lives and industries.
'I know what's coming,' Peter realized. His heart started beating faster. 'I know future technology. Smartphones. Apps. Social media. All of it. I could invent things years before they're supposed to exist.'
The possibilities seemed endless for a moment. He could create the next big thing. Get rich. Solve all their problems.
But reality hit hard and fast.
He was three. Nobody would take a three-year-old inventor seriously. Nobody would believe him.
Nobody would give him patents or investment money or anything else.
And more importantly, he didn't actually know how to build most of that technology. Not really.
He knew what smartphones did. He'd used them every day in his old life. But how did they actually work? What components were needed? How were they assembled?
He knew social media existed.
Knew how to use Facebook and Twitter and Instagram. But the actual programming? The servers and databases and network infrastructure? He had no idea.
He knew what things did. Not how they worked. There was a massive difference.
'I need more knowledge,' Peter thought. The realization settled over him like a weight. 'Much more. Engineering. Computer science. Materials science. Manufacturing processes. Business. Economics. Everything.'
He needed to understand how things were built from the ground up. Needed to know the actual science and engineering behind modern technology. Needed to become someone who could actually create what he envisioned.
Peter closed his eyes and activated his system. 'Temporal Acceleration.'
The world shifted. He stood in his empty dimensional bedroom. Twenty-four hours stretched ahead of him. Twenty-four hours where he could work without rest or hunger. Twenty-four hours to start building the foundation he needed.
He walked to Uncle Ben's office. The small room with the cluttered desk and the bookshelf full of knowledge. He grabbed every engineering book Uncle Ben owned. Mechanical engineering. Electrical engineering. Basic physics and mathematics.
He sat down on the floor and opened the first book. Started reading with new purpose. New determination.
This wasn't just about preparing for Spider-Man anymore. This wasn't just about becoming a hero someday.
This was about saving his family right now. About making sure Uncle Ben and Aunt May never had to worry about bills again. Never had to argue in the middle of the night about overdue payments and impossible choices.
'Long-term plan,' Peter decided as he turned pages and absorbed information.
'Learn everything I can. Build up knowledge base by base. Wait until I'm old enough that people might actually listen to me. Then create something valuable. Something I can patent or sell. Something that will change everything for us.'
It would take years. Maybe a decade or more. He'd need to be at least a teenager before anyone would take him seriously. Maybe older.
But he had time. And more importantly, he had twenty-four extra hours every single day to prepare. To learn. To grow.
Other kids his age were playing with toys and watching cartoons. He'd be studying engineering and computer science and materials physics. Every single night. Every single day of his dimensional time.
'I'll save them,' Peter promised himself as he read through equations and diagrams. 'From poverty. From struggle. From everything that's trying to crush them.'
Uncle Ben wouldn't die because Peter failed to stop a criminal. Aunt May wouldn't cry herself to sleep worrying about bills. They'd have everything they needed. Everything they deserved.
He just had to work for it. Learn everything. Become someone capable of making it happen.
And he would. No matter how long it took.
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