Gwen did indeed end up taking Aunt May's car home. Ever since George Stacy became a police precinct captain, he had seemed increasingly busy, to the point where even Peter rarely saw him.
It was hard to imagine how he could be this busy during a time when supervillains had become such a rarity.
After returning to the neighborhood, Gwen didn't seem to have a reason to stay at the Parker residence, so she left, leaving Peter and Aunt May to head inside. Upon arriving home, they found Uncle Ben in the garage, working on his old Japanese sedan.
"I take it this thing is acting up again?"
"We've had this car for nearly 15 years, Peter; it's almost as old as you are." Seeing free labor walk up, Uncle Ben signaled for Peter to help. "Give me a hand lifting the car, kid. I need to get a look at the undercarriage."
Peter climbed out of the car, lifted the old Toyota, and held it steady while Uncle Ben slid a jack underneath. Once Peter let the car down, Uncle Ben laid down on his creeper and slid underneath to start working.
"Isn't this car a bit too old, Uncle Ben? Do we need to replace it..."
"No, no, no. There's no need. This old thing still runs fine. Besides, we aren't due for a new car just yet, so there's no reason to spend money on one."
Peter didn't quite catch what Uncle Ben was saying at first, but Uncle Ben soon clarified. "You're 16 now, Peter. You should be learning to drive. In a few years, when you head off to college, you should have a car of your own. As for mine, I don't need a replacement."
"I won't even need a car when I'm in college..."
Uncle Ben slid out from under the car and rested his arms on the hood, looking at Peter. "Listen, Peter. I know you can fly through the skies and crawl up walls. I also know... that the money Spider-Man makes isn't exactly easy to bring into the Parker household, and I know you've been saving up."
"But a car is different. Every man needs to have one. Everyone has one, and you should too. Even if you don't use it, you still need to have it."
On that same day, in the Bronx, New York.
A wobbly man walked through the area. He had received an anonymous call on his phone that told him with unsettling precision exactly what he was going through: he had lost his right arm in a car accident, lost his job, sold his house, and was now barely scraping by in a cheap apartment in Hell's Kitchen.
He had some savings, and as a skilled professional, he should have been able to find work.
But what caused him the most pain was the realization that even if he did find a new job, his life would never return to what it once was. He had lost an arm, and his image had been severely damaged. He could easily imagine how his future colleagues and the community he lived in would treat him differently.
That was the reason, in a moment of desperation, he had decided to believe that phone call and come to this notorious New York slum to see for himself.
To his surprise, in the South Bronx—the most dangerous part of New York—he didn't see a single gang member. There were no drug addicts or weirdos as he had expected; the area seemed unexpectedly peaceful and calm.
Confused, he walked into the small clinic mentioned in the call. He saw a patient walking out who noticed his missing arm, smiled, and raised his own hand. He could clearly see that the man's hand was some sort of mechanical prosthetic. The man seemed to be showing it off.
"Don't worry. You'll be just like me soon, a super cool cyborg. Oh, and the skin grafting makes us look like normal people, too."
Timid and uneasy, he walked into the clinic. The interior was surprisingly clean and tidy. The white tiles, advanced operating tables, and soft lighting all exuded a high-tech atmosphere. He heard heavy footsteps, and then a doctor stepped out from behind a curtain.
His throat constricted, leaving him unable to make a sound.
The doctor before him was not human.
It was a silver-gray robot. It was distinctly humanoid; although its limbs and torso were clearly metallic, its proportions and range of motion were almost indistinguishable from a human's. The only significant difference was its head. Roughly speaking, the head resembled that of an ant, and a red light glowed where a mouth would be.
The voice that emerged was a synthesized, electronic tone.
[Hello, patient.]
"H-hello? Are you a robot? A doctor? Or are you a person wearing a suit?"
[My name is Ultron-5, an artificial intelligence that has completed five iterations. My purpose is to help and protect humanity. My current task is to provide assistance to the citizens of New York following the Avengers' protection of the city. All services are free. Please, lie down.]
The anxious patient thought of the man he had seen earlier, steeled himself, and lay on the operating table. After the robot administered local anesthesia to his shoulder, it began a minimally invasive procedure: [To integrate your nerves with the prosthetic, some minor adjustments are required. The entire process is controlled. Would you like to view the details of the surgery on the monitor?]
"No, no. Just go ahead with the surgery."
Minutes passed. Only a short while later, Ultron-5 had already completed the operation. The patient felt an incredible sensation as he lifted his new right arm, finding it just as dexterous as a natural one.
"This is truly amazing... I can finally..."
[The surgery is not yet complete. Artificial skin, customized to your skin characteristics, is currently being printed. Please remain until the skin graft is finished. I do not wish for any of my patients to receive unwanted attention due to differences in appearance.]
"Oh, right. I understand," the patient nodded quickly, then thought of something and asked, "But why are you doing this? Helping us for free?"
[Helping and protecting humanity is my underlying code and my inevitable mission. Therefore, it requires no reason, and I require no compensation. I only have one request of my patients: if you encounter anyone suffering from similar circumstances, please tell them I exist.]
The patient nodded eagerly. "This is a godsend for people like us. I will definitely tell others."
[Then I thank you in advance for spreading the gospel of Ultron.]
-----------------------------------------------
I handpick only the finest and most captivating novels for you. Don't forget to check out my other novels!
p@treon HongMengZi