Chapter 1
Peter Parker walked into the Stark Industries after-school robotics program with only two things in his head: ohmygod this is so cool this is so cool this is the most amazing place i’ve ever seen, and, ohno what do i do when they find out i’m not as smart as they think i am oh no everyone is older than me i’m gonna fail and they’ll laugh at me and kick me out and i’ll never get into another after school program and i won’t get into a good college and i’ll live the rest of my life on the streets and not even mcdonald’s will take me
So, needless to say, Peter had an anxiety problem. And Peter knew he had an anxiety problem. But that didn’t make the anxiety go away now did it?
Peter walked up to the chattering group of 25-or-so kids in the SI lobby and tried his best to look like he was supposed to be there, like he knew what he was doing: it’s an act he’d become intimately familiar with in his 13 years of life.
A cheery, college-aged intern walked up to the group and the chatter started to die down.
“Hello everyone, and welcome to Stark Industries! My name is Emiliana, and I’m assuming you’re all here for our exclusive after school robotics program?” Everyone nodded and she continued: “If you’ll all follow me to the elevator, we’ll go up to the 16th floor R&D labs to get started.”
Emiliana led the group to a large elevator with no buttons. Just as Peter noticed this the elevator started moving upwards seemingly with no instruction. Peter looked around in awe, and he couldn’t help noticing the other students doing the same.
That feeling of awe only increased when they arrived at the 16th floor. Peter couldn’t help but think Ned would be so jealous when Peter told him all about this at school tomorrow.
There were scientists and interns milling about, a drone flying overhead, the coolest robot he’d ever seen, complex equations written on whiteboards and holograms that littered the space, but none of it compared to the most advanced equipment he’d ever seen in the room designated for them. His mind was already running almost faster than he could keep up when he thought through exactly what he could do with all of this stuff. Equations flittered through his mind along with designs and ideas for things, things that he could create, things that could help people.
Emiliana walked back to the front of the group with an older man and woman that Peter didn’t recognize, but he assumed they were scientists. “Everyone, this is Doctor Williamson and Doctor Brooks. They will be overseeing the robotics program and they’re here to give you all a bit of an introduction, as well as assign your first project.”
Dr. Williamson and Dr. Brooks spoke to them for about half an hour about the program, though none of it was surprising to Peter; he’d done hours of research before the program started, wanting to know exactly what to expect. He’d read through the acceptance email dozens of times, scoured the SI website and gone through any reviews from previous students that he could find.
Then they announced their first assignment, which was, apparently, to build whatever they wanted. Well, anything they could make in two weeks that had some kind of practical, real-world application.
And Peter? Peter was ecstatic and terrified in equal measure.
There was so much he could do with that. It’s such an open-ended project. But what exactly do they want?
After much deliberation, he decided on a robot with a rudimentary AI that could help with an autistic meltdown in a similar way to how a service dog would. The robot would detect the signs of a sensory overload and lead the individual out of the situation. It could also help once a meltdown has started by interrupting harmful stims and/or performing deep pressure therapy. The robot would also be able to call for help if needed.
Peter was going to name him STIM-E.
He privately thought the robot would be really useful for himself, but he wasn’t sure if he should say anything to anyone at SI. His Aunt didn’t like him telling people about his autism and he wasn’t sure if word would get back to her or not.
Aunt May didn’t really understand his autism. She never wanted to talk about it, and seemed to think any mention of it to others was embarrassing and a slight to her parenting skills. Every time he showed his autistic traits May would get angry and insist he wasn’t “trying hard enough.” (Uncle Ben never got angry about them, but Peter tried not to think about that.)
So everything Peter knew about autism was from the internet. Sometimes it hurt to see other autistic people learning to unmask and be themselves when Peter still didn’t feel like he had anywhere safe enough to do so.
He researched autism for hours some days, and finally learned the answers to the questions he hadn’t known how to ask when he was younger.
But he still couldn’t unmask. Still couldn’t use the tools he needed. He just understood why he felt this way. He understood how unfair some things were.
He pondered all this as he sketched his plans for the robot he may never be able to use and before he knew it, three hours had passed and Dr. Williamson announced that it was time to go home. Peter carefully tidied up his temporary workstation (his workstation!!) to come back to tomorrow and started heading out.
Once he exited the lobby, he looked back at the looming figure of Stark Tower and smiled a little, despite the way his gut twisted at the thought of having to leave.
He was going to be back tomorrow.
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Peter was putting the finishing touches on his robot and he was more nervous than he’d been in so long.
His robot took the shape of a circular drone that ended up being spider-shaped, with each leg having a different texture for stimming. It was also very heavy and could expand when it was needed for deep pressure therapy. The little robot also gave happy whirs and chirps when given a task, and could play various calming noises when necessary.
Peter was so proud of STIM-E, though he was nervous about what people would think, how they’d probably draw the conclusion that he was autistic, or worse, figure out he was Spider-man (though that seemed a little less likely to Peter, they’re probably not expecting a 13 year old with a spider-shaped drone to be spider-man)
Peter didn’t really know how people would react to knowing he had autism; he’d been hiding it for so long he never had to find out.
He looked around the lab at the other student’s projects, and started to feel the ball of anxiety in his chest loosen a little; although Peter was the youngest there, most other students hadn’t created anything near the level of complexity that Peter had. A couple of them just seemed like modified roombas.
There were a few somewhat interesting projects he wouldn’t mind taking a look at, but before he could, the room went silent. The group of anxious teenagers suddenly brought their attention to the front of the room and Peter turned around to see what he was missing.
There at the front of the room, in his signature sunglasses, was Tony Stark.
Mr. Stark started circulating the room, and Peter started properly freaking out. He hadn’t known Tony Stark was going to judge their projects!! Why was he even here? Peter idolized Tony Stark, but he really didn’t want the famous, charismatic, Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist to know he was autistic.
But there was no way around that, because it was his turn next.
Mr. Stark walked up to him and started to inspect STIM-E,
“So, kid, what exactly does this little guy do?”
Peter hesitantly started to explain his project, but as he went on he got more and more animated as he got into all the different functions of his new favourite robot. He forgot who he was talking to as he got enthralled by the science of it all, but quickly looked up with wide eyes when he finished, remembering he was talking to the Actual Tony Stark (!!!).
Mr. Stark looked surprised for a moment, and then… it almost looked like he was impressed? (Peter was convinced he must’ve read the expression wrong, there was no way Tony Stark could’ve been impressed by him) Before Peter had the chance to ponder the expression further, it was gone as quickly as it came. And Mr. Stark started speaking: “I think this has some real potential, kid,” he said, clapping Peter on the back. “How old did you say you were again?”
“Th-thirteen, sir” Peter replied, keeping his eyes on the ground.
“Huh.” Was Mr. Stark’s only response, with both his eyebrows raised. With that, he walked away and continued circulating the room.
Peter blew out a breath of relief and slumped down into his chair. Mr. Stark just said his robot had potential. And Peter got the feeling the man didn’t give out compliments very often.
Ned was gonna flip.