Dimensional Nomad

When you're a five-year-old stock market genius, most adults shrug off the oddness. Kids do weird stuff all the time, right? When you're a ten-year-old experimenting with the literal laws of space and dimension, though—that's when things start to get dicey.

I'd been holding back for years, playing the genius card while keeping my Sideways abilities low-key. Opening a small rift in my room to grab something from across the house? Sure. Slicing the crusts off a sandwich with a pin-sized portal? Why not? But I never let it get bigger than that. The rifts were scary sometimes, and I didn't fully understand them. Every crack in space felt like I was poking the universe with a stick and hoping it didn't notice.

That changed the day I got bored.

Really, really bored.

It started with a math test.

Not just any math test, but a "fun, exploratory exercise" the school gave me to see if I was ready for advanced learning. Spoiler alert: I was. I'd been acing Reed Richards-level quantum mechanics textbooks since I was six. I breezed through the test in five minutes and sat there, staring at the ceiling as the clock ticked on.

For the first time in a while, I let my mind drift.

The Idea

What were the limits of my rift powers?

I knew I could open portals, sure, but what else could I do? Did the rifts lead somewhere specific, or were they just slices into an inky nothing? I'd been too careful, too afraid to push. My memories from my past life still echoed in my head. This was Marvel, after all. Mess with things you didn't understand and suddenly you had Galactus knocking on your door for a midnight snack.

But curiosity? Curiosity didn't care about Galactus.

The teacher hadn't noticed me finish the test. The other kids were scribbling away, oblivious. I raised my hand—not for permission, but to shield my face—and focused.

A portal shimmered into existence just above my desk, no larger than my palm. I'd done this before. It was second nature. But this time, I wanted to see through it. I focused harder, pushing the edges of the rift outward just a fraction. It was like trying to peel apart plastic wrap—tough and stretchy, but doable.

Through the small tear, I saw something.

A breeze hit my face. Cool air. Fresh air. The portal led somewhere real—a rooftop? A park? The image wobbled like I was staring into rippling water, and I nearly lost my grip. I bit my lip, forcing the edges to hold.

And then… the bell rang.

The rift snapped shut. My teacher called my name, and I jumped so hard I knocked my pencil off the desk.

"Everything okay, young man?" she asked, giving me that suspicious teacher look that said, I don't trust how quiet you've been.

"Yep! Just dropped my pencil!" I squeaked.

She bought it. I scrambled to my feet and darted out of the room before she could ask any more questions. My heart was racing.

I wasn't scared.

I was thrilled.

The Experiment

That night, I couldn't stop thinking about the portal. I had always assumed that if I pushed too far, I'd tear the fabric of reality or summon some eldritch nightmare into my bedroom. But no—it wasn't chaos on the other side. It was somewhere else.

"Okay, so we're doing this," I whispered to myself.

I waited until the house was silent. My parents were downstairs watching TV, oblivious to the fact that their son was about to violate multiple laws of physics. I dragged my desk chair to the center of the room and sat down, cracking my knuckles like I was about to play the piano.

"Step one: Open a rift bigger than my head," I muttered.

Deep breath. Focus.

A familiar shimmer appeared in the air, swirling outward as I stretched the rift wider. The air buzzed with energy, and a faint hum filled my ears. The edges of the rift pulsed like molten glass, but I didn't stop. I pushed it open until it was the size of a small window.

Beyond the rift was the roof of a skyscraper. The Chrysler Building, to be exact.

"Holy…" I breathed.

It was nighttime, and the city below glittered like spilled stars. I recognized it instantly. This wasn't some alien dimension or random void—this was New York City. The real New York City. I was staring through space like it was nothing more than a windowpane.

A gust of wind whistled through the portal, chilling my skin. I reached out, fingers brushing the edges of the rift. It felt warm. Alive. My powers weren't just tearing through space; they were connecting it. Linking one place to another.

My mind reeled with the possibilities. Travel. Exploration. Escape. The entire world was at my fingertips. Hell, maybe more than just the world.

The Leap

I don't know what came over me—maybe overconfidence, maybe adrenaline. But before I could stop myself, I swung one leg over the chair… and stepped through.

Instantly, I was hit by the wind. The portal snapped shut behind me with an audible pop, and suddenly I was standing on the roof of the Chrysler Building.

"Oh… crap."

The realization hit me all at once. I was ten years old, alone, on top of a skyscraper in New York City in the middle of the night. I looked down, my stomach dropping as I saw the streets far below.

What the hell had I been thinking?

I stumbled back, heart pounding. The wind howled in my ears, and my hands shook as I reached out, trying to summon another rift.

Nothing happened.

"No, no, no… come on!" I hissed, panic rising. I tried again, but the rift wouldn't form. My powers, which had always been so effortless, were suddenly unresponsive. I didn't understand. Was it fear? The altitude? My own stupid recklessness?

And then I heard it—a voice.

"Hey, kid! You lost?"

I turned sharply. Standing at the edge of the rooftop was a figure in red and blue.

Spider-Man.

My brain short-circuited. Of course it was Spider-Man. This was his city, his turf. If there was a random ten-year-old loitering on a skyscraper at midnight, he was going to be the first one to check it out.

I froze, mouth opening and closing like a fish. My brain screamed at me to say something—anything—but all I could think was, Oh my god, I just met Spider-Man.

"You, uh… okay there, buddy?" Spider-Man asked, tilting his head. "Did you get lost on a field trip or something?"

I took a deep breath.

"I… I'm fine," I stammered. "I just… got stuck up here."

He stared at me for a second, then shrugged. "Happens to the best of us. You need a lift back down, or you got this?"

I hesitated. My pride flared up, but then I realized… this was Spider-Man. The real Spider-Man.

"A lift would be… cool," I admitted.

He grinned beneath the mask. "Hop on, kid."

As he scooped me up and swung us into the night, I made a promise to myself:

Next time I did something stupid with my powers… I was not getting caught.