Chapter 5: But… It’s me! The real Spider-Man!

I sat at the table and tried to gather my thoughts as I watched a silent Aunt May take over the kitchen. My shoulder was still terribly sore where the juvenile delinquent had struck, and my jaw felt a slight pain on every movement. At least the bruises on my face had practically disappeared by the second day.

During these two days I more or less came back to normal. Mentally and physically. The fact that I had read a story about my past world had contributed in no small way to this. Who would have thought that that hedonistic bastard Lo Tzu had turned out to be the one who could protect humanity from the threat of total extermination. The Turned On Project seemed like nonsense to me from the beginning, but we're all wrong sometimes. I want to believe that somewhere out there my home Earth still exists. Which makes a lot of sense, considering that, except for some trivia, the book is pretty accurate about the history of the conflict with the Threesolaris.

The most important difference between the book and reality is the gender ratio. Virtually all of the characters in the book are women. At first I put this down to the fact that the author herself is a woman, but then, after comparing the facts...

How on earth did I manage to ignore this for so long? This crazy world is taken over by women! I saw a few men on the street while Bobby was giving me a ride home, but that's about it! Finding adequate reasons for this anomaly on the Internet was impossible - the natives considered this kind of sex ratio the norm. According to the observations of local scientists, the higher the level of development of the species, the smaller the number of males required for its survival. The regulation of the number of males is part of the natural homeostasis of the population. Radical feminists would be thrilled! This universe is fully consistent with their ideals, even those of which they themselves were unaware. Right now, in developed countries, there are ten or more women for every man, and these men serve only as an appendage to the local strong sex. Quite an appendage, I might add. Most of these bastards don't work anywhere, being supported by their wives. It's amazing that under such realities the institution of marriage has developed and has not yet collapsed!

Apparently, thinking that since all the turmoil of the past few days had not driven me insane, my subconscious decided that there was nothing to be afraid of and brought back more memories, this time from the other Peter Parker's life. Yes, I'm pretty sure now that I and the man in whose body I'm in are two completely different people.

From now on, I'm going to call the person who lived here before me Peter. It will be easier that way. At least I won't feel crazy.

Peter was an extremely reserved person. He hardly ever talked to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. And even if someone managed to get Peter to talk, it was hard to call it dialogue. In fact, even when speaking to someone else, he was still talking to himself, letting those around him translate and perceive as they could, drawing as much meaning as they were able to perceive.

To be fair, other people were even more of a mystery to Peter than he was to those around him. The emotions and motivations of these "objects" were difficult for him to perceive. In general, he could not communicate with people and did not want to learn. Besides, he was extremely lazy and apathetic, and simply too lazy to adapt his thoughts to other people. He never even put his own ideas into practice. If something could take his mind for a short time, it was already an event, as happened with Dr. Stans' article. That theory fascinated Peter for a month, and eventually he even overcame his laziness and wrote an e-mail to Stans, pointing out a few flaws in the theory and a couple of his ideas. But he was too lazy to explain his thoughts in full, thinking that since the subject was the author of the article he was interested in, he would figure it out for himself. Obviously, he didn't.

Aunt May came in this morning to tell me that my absences had caused concern for the teachers and to remind me that it was my responsibility to finish school. Aunt May does not live with me in the house, only brings me groceries, sometimes helps with the cooking and cleaning, pays the bills, and leaves me some money for my allowance. I understand - it's hard to stand the kind of person Peter was, and it's a good thing she never went to a specialist. After all, from the outside, Peter's condition must resemble a high-functioning form of autism, though it is not. The specialists' decision could have ruined Peter, and therefore me, for the rest of his life.

As Aunt May began to pack for her return trip, I asked to go with her. I told her I wanted to talk to my uncle. She was surprised, but she didn't mind. I wondered what she was more surprised about: my wish or the fact that I spoke in plain and simple language?

I vaguely recalled that Ben had several other wives besides Aunt May, but they didn't all live together. It was a normal practice. Few people are interested, or able, to provide for the cohabitation of a huge family of six or more adults and a dozen or so children, but it varies from case to case. Many women highly value their independence, even tying the bonds of marriage to a man, they do not want to live with him permanently. Ha, you can understand them, aboriginal husbands are a terror.

Aunt May drove the pickup truck that took us to Uncle Ben's house: a three-room apartment he shared with two wives, one of whom was Aunt May. His three other wives lived nearby, but were not frequent visitors to the apartment, nor were their children.

I suspected that the Ben of this world would turn out to be a completely different person, but I still wasn't prepared for what I saw. Aunt May's husband was third-degree obese, along with a bouquet of related diseases that blossomed, given his age. Add to that a grouchy, bickering character... He would have made an excellent household tyrant, if it were not for his infirmity.

He was not happy with me. I am not a great expert in psychology, I have never been interested in this science, but even I could see some of the superficial reasons for his dislike of me. Besides the fact that I had kept Ben from watching a stupid TV show, in his eyes I (indeed, any guy my age) was a living reminder of his wasted, I suspect, youth and health. Something he would never go back to. I shouldn't have come here. I realized that I had nothing to say to the man, but, to justify my presence, I tried to ask about my parents, ignoring Ben's openly hostile stare.

"Why would I know anything about your parents, kid?" The astonished man even lost his anger. "He was May's brother, not mine. I'd only seen him a couple of times in my life."

I could barely keep my face. It was unexpected, but in my heart I was relieved that this man was not my blood relative. I hope my father wasn't.

"It's just that, you see, Aunt May's-" I tried to think of some reason, "well, a woman's perspective, you're the only man who knew my father and with whom I can talk..."

God, what nonsense.

"I already said I didn't know him," his irritation returned to Ben, and he himself, losing interest in the conversation, returned to the television.

"Peter," I heard my aunt's voice behind me, "you could talk to Dr. Connors, she worked a lot with Richard, her husband and your father were friends."

"Oh, thank you, Aunt May," you just saved me from this awkward situation! "Do you have their contacts?"

"I'm afraid I don't," Aunt May thought about it, "but you can find her phone number on the Empire State website."

I will, because I still have to keep my promise to Bobby, and follow up on Stans, whose research is very similar to the work of another Dr. Connors from my past.

"No, look at what she's doing!" Uncle Ben's animated cry came over us.

May glanced at her husband and pursed her lips in displeasure, but said nothing. I'd never had much sympathy for TV shows, but my uncle and aunt in my actual memories liked to spend an evening watching some "America's Got Talent!" and Ben was apparently watching something like that. On the screen, a gymnast in a tight, pink-and-white costume was doing some kind of gymnastic stunts.

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"Just look at this, ladies and gentlemen!" The announcer said excitedly, "This girl is a match for Mrs. Fantastic!"

"Ben is a fan of this Spiderwoman," Aunt May shared with me.

Spiderwoman, what a ridiculous nickname...

Stop! Spiderwoman?!

"What did you say?" I jumped up.

"What?" May wondered, "You haven't heard of her yet? She's our town's TV hero," the woman sniggered, "like a real superhero, only on TV."

And her costume really does look like mine! But what the hell?! Where in the world would there be another, uh, another Spiderwoman? There has to be a limit to all the madness!

"Aunt May, do you know if my class went on a field trip while I wasn't in class?" I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"Something like that the teacher told me... Yes, that's right, they talked about some excursion about a week or two ago," May replied thoughtfully and then immediately added, "And this girl is really good. She earns money with her ability. There's no other way in this world, you can't find a good husband without money," she looked at Ben with long-standing disappointment.

Yeah, well, I wasn't kidnapped right away. When I realized my past, I got depressed, which caused subsequent amnesia, forgot about my Spider-Man past, and lived as the Peter Parker of this world. Apparently that's when I missed that excursion.

On my way back, I decided to go on foot. My head was ringing with emptiness, so I just stared at the natives in the light of the setting sun and the many signs. This world is a strange place. If everything is clear with women - they combine the concepts of strong and beautiful sex at the same time, hence the great variety of types, but men ... This animal is not only rare, but also stands out with a large number of ... Features. Of the dozen guys I met my age, four were overweight, three looked overly feminine, but within the hetero range, one was definitely gay, and only one looked normal. There was one more, though, but I tried to forget that wonder in a skirt as soon as I saw it. The only thing that made me happy was that the other passersby also paid attention to him, giving some a distasteful and some a mocking look.

Would I be one of those now? I caught another glance of appraisal from a girl walking toward me. Shit! What would I do if my powers went to someone else? Someone who only uses them for their own gain? What if she keeps entertaining audiences on TV shows? Who will prevent the star reactor from exploding, who will prevent the city from being infected with the Lizard vaccine, who will stop Electro? And if this girl turns out to be greedy and merges with Venom, that would be a disaster! Damn! Plus, I'm used to a healthy, strong body! I don't want to live my life as a wimp with terrible eyesight.

"Look!" shouted a woman in front of me and reached for her phone to film a girl in a tight suit running across the rooftops of buildings.

Speak of the devil. Do you have to run right here, in front of me? Why the hell are you even running around on the streets, you don't catch criminals!

Meanwhile, the girl jumped from the roof of the building right onto the roadway. She caught her hand on a traffic light pole, performed a beautiful centrifugal acceleration maneuver, and flew over to the other side of the street. She's showing off on purpose! She's not even a hero, but she's already trying to get people's attention!

"I know," an excited female voice somewhere nearby, "I know her, she's the Spiderwoman from TV!"

Less of the rapture, lady! She doesn't even have a web! And anyway, why has she become so popular so quickly? How long has it been since the tour? A week? Two?

The acrobat escaped our gaze, but people stared after her for a while.

"Oh, she's cool," sighed the thirteen-year-old girl next to me, "I'd like to be like her."

Yeah, I'd like that, too, because it's me, Peter Parker, the real Spider-Man!

When I got home in my frustration, I wanted to go straight to bed, but I couldn't sleep for some reason. Then, to kill time, I decided to work. Downloading the data copied from the computer in Stans' lab, I thought about my next steps.

Perhaps I should get in touch with the local version of Connors as soon as possible. Stans' formula was very close to what Kurt was working on. It had the same basis, but Stans didn't try to use it to introduce reptilian genes. From reading Stans' notes, I got the impression that the scientist herself didn't quite know what she was dealing with. It was as if she was trying to adjust the formula for interacting with the transmitter. It is unlikely that this formula was her own development; most likely, she was trying to repeat someone else's work. It is possible that Stans' and Connors' formulas have a common origin.

After another half hour of reflection, I found myself drawing diagrams of web shooters...

You've got to be kidding me!

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