Three days passed in a rhythm Peter was starting to understand.
Normal mornings with Uncle Ben and Aunt May. Normal afternoons playing in the small backyard or watching cartoons. Normal evenings with dinner and bath time and bedtime stories.
But the nights belonged to him alone.
Every night, Peter entered the temporal acceleration dimension. Twenty-four hours that didn't exist for anyone else. Twenty-four hours of reading and learning and preparing. His Mind stat had climbed from 1.0 to 1.2. Progress was slow but it was real.
And now Aunt May wanted to take him somewhere new.
"We're going to the library today," she announced at breakfast. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore her nice blouse. The blue one she saved for going out. "I think you'll like it there, Peter."
Uncle Ben looked up from his newspaper. "The library? That's a great idea, May. Kid reads more than anyone I know."
Peter tried not to smile too wide. A library meant books. Lots of books. More than Uncle Ben's small collection. 'This is perfect,' he thought.
"Can we go now?" Peter asked.
Aunt May laughed. "Finish your cereal first, sweetie. Then we'll go."
Peter ate his cereal faster than he probably should have. Aunt May gave him a look but didn't say anything. She cleared the dishes while Peter put on his shoes. The process took longer than it should have. Three-year-old fingers struggled with laces.
"Here, let me help." Aunt May knelt down and tied his shoes properly. Double knots so they wouldn't come undone. "There we go. All set."
The car ride took twenty minutes. Peter watched Queens pass by outside his window. Old buildings mixed with new construction. Small shops with faded signs. People walking dogs and pushing strollers and living their normal lives.
'They have no idea,' Peter thought. 'No idea what world they're actually living in.'
The library appeared around a corner. Peter's breath caught.
The building was old brick. Dark red that had weathered to almost brown in some places. Tall windows let light pour through. Stone steps led up to heavy wooden doors with brass handles worn smooth from decades of use.
"Wow," Peter whispered.
Aunt May pulled into a parking spot and turned off the engine. She looked back at Peter with a warm smile. "Pretty great, right? I used to come here all the time when I was your age. Well, older than your age. Maybe eight or nine. But you know what I mean."
Peter nodded. He couldn't take his eyes off the building.
They walked up the stone steps together. Aunt May held his hand. The doors were heavier than they looked. Aunt May had to pull hard to open them.
Inside was different from anything Peter had experienced in this new life.
The main room stretched upward. High ceilings with exposed wooden beams. Rows and rows of shelves filled with books. The smell hit him immediately. Old paper and binding glue and dust and something else. Something he couldn't quite name. Knowledge maybe. Possibility.
"Wow," Peter said again. He couldn't think of anything else to say.
Aunt May squeezed his hand. "Come on. Let me show you the children's section."
She led him through the main room. Past adults reading at long wooden tables. Past a reference desk where an older woman stamped books with methodical precision. Past the fiction section with colorful spines promising adventures and mysteries.
The children's section sat in the back corner. Bright colors everywhere. Small chairs designed for small bodies. Picture books with simple words and large illustrations. Educational books about letters and numbers and basic concepts.
Peter looked at them politely. They seemed nice. Probably perfect for actual three-year-olds.
But his eyes kept drifting away. Past the children's section to the adult areas. The real books. The ones with actual information packed into hundreds of pages. Physics. Chemistry. Biology. History. Engineering.
"Can I look around?" he asked.
Aunt May hesitated. Her eyes followed his gaze to the adult section. That same concerned expression flickered across her face. The one that said she didn't quite know what to do with him.
"Of course," she said finally. "Just stay where I can see you, okay?"
"Okay."
Peter wandered away from the bright colors and small chairs. His small hands trailed along book spines as he walked. Fiction gave way to nonfiction. Nonfiction led to reference materials. So much information. So much to learn. So much to discover.
His feet carried him through the aisles without conscious thought. Past cooking books and travel guides. Past self-help and business management. He wasn't looking for anything specific. Just exploring. Seeing what was available.
Then he saw the newspapers.
They were displayed on wooden racks near the main entrance. Current issues in front. Older ones filed behind them. Peter walked over casually. Trying not to look too interested. Just a kid wandering around.
But his heart started beating faster.
The headline caught his eye immediately. Bold black letters across the front page of the New York Times.
**"STARK INDUSTRIES ANNOUNCES NEW REACTOR TECHNOLOGY"**
Below that in smaller text: "Tony Stark Promises Clean Energy Revolution at Press Conference"
Peter's heart stopped.
Tony Stark. Stark Industries. Arc reactor technology.
His hands shook a little as he grabbed the newspaper. His eyes scanned the article quickly.
"...revolutionary Arc Reactor technology could provide clean, sustainable energy for decades to come. Stark, the 38-year-old CEO of Stark Industries, unveiled the prototype reactor at a press conference yesterday..."
Thirty-eight years old. Tony Stark was thirty-eight.
'And if Tony's just announcing the arc reactor now...' Peter's mind raced through timelines. 'That means the cave hasn't happened yet. Afghanistan. The kidnapping. The birth of Iron Man. None of it has happened yet.'
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