2005–2008. Three years that felt like a lifetime of careful steps.
Alex turned ten in the summer of 2005, and the world still hadn't noticed the quiet storm brewing in a Queens apartment. No glowing eyes, no accidental explosions—just a boy who read too fast, solved problems too easily, and always seemed to know exactly what to say.
The interface had evolved with him. It no longer required physical contact for minor samples; proximity and intent could pull trace DNA from skin cells shed in the air, from a handshake's residue on a doorknob. He called it "ambient harvest." Risky if overused—too many traces at once could overload his system with noise—but perfect for low-profile collection.
School had become routine. He maintained straight A's without ever being the obnoxious know-it-all. Teachers praised his "natural curiosity." Classmates called him the guy who could fix anything: broken friendships, lost homework, playground disputes. He didn't do it for brownie points. He did it because calm environments meant fewer distractions from his real work.
His real work was twofold: power stacking and money stacking.
The stock account Elena managed now sat at $4,200. Not riches, but enough to make her eyes widen when she checked the statements. Alex had guided her through the post-dot-com recovery picks: more Apple (he remembered the iPhone reveal was coming), early Google, a sprinkle of emerging biotech. He phrased every suggestion as "I read it in a magazine" or "Tommy's dad said." Elena teased him about being her "little financial advisor," but she listened.
He started coding that year.
Not because he was a prodigy—yet—but because he remembered how central software would become. He borrowed library books on BASIC, then Python (still niche in 2005), then taught himself HTML and JavaScript from free online tutorials accessed on the school's ancient computers. Elena noticed the late-night glow under his bedroom door and bought him a second-hand Dell laptop for Christmas 2006. It was clunky, slow, and glorious.
His first program was a simple stock tracker: it scraped Yahoo Finance pages (via basic web requests he learned to automate) and plotted trends in ASCII art. Crude, but it worked. He showed it to Elena one evening over spaghetti.
"Look, Mom. If we bought more Apple last year like I said…"
She stared at the screen, then at him. "How did you make this?"
"Internet," he said with a shrug. "And math."
She hugged him tight. He copied a sliver of her renewed optimism while she wasn't looking—emotional resilience was stacking nicely.
By age twelve (2007), he was ready for his first real side hustle.
He'd copied programming aptitude from a high-school senior at the library who spent hours on coding forums. The kid—named Raj—had an intuitive grasp of algorithms. One afternoon Alex sat next to him, "accidentally" bumped elbows while reaching for a book, and harvested the trait.
*[DNA Sample: Raj Patel, age 17. Analysis: Advanced algorithmic thinking, debugging intuition, object-oriented design fluency.]*
*[Selective Copy: Algorithmic Thinking +1.3σ, Debugging Intuition +1.0σ. Copy?]*
He took it. Overnight, his code went from functional to elegant. Bugs that used to take hours now resolved in minutes.
He built his first sellable project: a Flash-based mini-game called "Hero Dash." Simple side-scroller—run, jump, collect coins, avoid obstacles. The twist? Hidden power-ups that let you "copy" enemy abilities for a few seconds. He drew the sprites himself in MS Paint, coded the physics in ActionScript, and uploaded it to Newgrounds and Kongregate under the username "EchoKnight07."
It wasn't viral. But it got 50,000 plays in the first month, earned him $120 in ad revenue, and—more importantly—caught the eye of a small indie dev forum. Someone offered $300 for the source code and rights. Alex negotiated up to $450 via email (using a Gmail account he'd set up at the library).
He funneled the money straight into the stock account. Elena thought it was birthday money from a distant aunt. He let her believe it.
The grind intensified.
He started ambient-harvesting at tech meetups Elena chaperoned him to (she thought it was good for his "future"). A software engineer here, a game designer there. Small boosts: better memory allocation understanding, UI/UX intuition, basic networking protocols.
Each copy refined his mind. He began prototyping mobile games before smartphones were mainstream—Java ME apps for Nokia handsets, simple puzzle games he sold on GetJar for pennies each. Another $800 over six months.
But money was secondary. Longevity and power were primary.
He targeted doctors and nurses at Elena's hospital. She brought him to work sometimes on slow days; he'd sit in the break room doing homework while "observing." A dropped coffee stirrer, a discarded glove, a handshake—fragments added up.
*[Cumulative Health Traits: Enhanced immune response +1.4σ, Cellular repair efficiency +0.9σ, Projected personal lifespan extension: +12–15 years. Familial transfer viability: High.]*
He shared the gains with Elena religiously. Hugs became ritual. She started running 5Ks on weekends, claiming she "just felt more energetic." Her bloodwork came back cleaner. She cried happy tears at her annual physical.
Alex felt the weight of it—not guilt, but responsibility. He wasn't playing god. He was hedging bets in a universe that loved killing off supporting characters.
By early 2008, the news started buzzing: Stark Industries weapons demo in Afghanistan. Tony Stark missing. Then—miraculously—found. Press conference. "I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created…"
Alex watched the footage on their tiny TV, heart pounding.
The timeline was accelerating.
He'd copied enough baseline talents to push his effective IQ past 160. His body was stronger, faster to recover, sharper in reflexes. He'd built three more games, netting another $2,000 total. The stock account hovered near $12,000—small potatoes compared to what was coming, but seed capital.
He opened his secret notebook one last time before bed.
Page 47:
- Stark sighting imminent.
- Priority: Proximity sample. Intellect. Engineering. Arc reactor compatibility (partial only—body not ready).
- Secondary: Establish digital footprint. KaneTech placeholder domain registered.
- Long-term: AI seed. Need better hardware.
He closed the book, stared at the ceiling.
The Iron Man era was here.
And Alex Kane was no longer just preparing.
He was ready to start collecting the big ones.
(Word count: 1014)