Of Aliens, Magic, and Superheroes

The winter air was crisp as Ben stepped out of the car, his breath visible in the cold as he took in the sight of MIT's sprawling campus. Snow lightly dusted the sidewalks, and students bustled about, some lugging suitcases while others excitedly greeted old friends.

Sandra stepped out beside him, hugging her coat closer. "I still can't believe this is happening."

Carl, unloading a suitcase from the trunk, chuckled. "You've said that about a hundred times, San."

Ben smirked, adjusting the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "One hundred and fourteen, actually."

Sandra shot him a look, but the corners of her lips twitched.

The move-in process was smooth. Most of Ben's belongings had already been sent ahead, so all that was left was checking in and getting his room key. They made their way through the dorm building, passing groups of students chatting, unpacking, or setting up their rooms.

Sandra glanced around. "It's smaller than I expected."

Carl smirked. "You were hoping for an excuse to say it's unlivable, weren't you?"

Sandra sighed. "Maybe."

Ben shook his head, unlocking the door to his dorm room. It was simple but functional—a desk, bed, closet, and shelves. The walls were bare, but he'd fix that soon. He tossed his duffel onto the bed and turned to his parents.

"Well, this is it. Home for the next few years."

Sandra's gaze lingered around the room before settling on Ben. "…Are you sure about this?"

Ben met her eyes, his voice steady. "I've never been more sure about anything."

She exhaled slowly, then pulled him into a tight hug. "Just… take care of yourself."

Ben returned the hug with a small smile. "Always."

Carl clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be a stranger, alright? Your mom's gonna call you every day."

"At least twice a day," Sandra added.

Ben chuckled. "Figured as much."

After a few more lingering words and one last long look from Sandra, his parents left, and the door clicked shut behind them.

Ben let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. Finally, he was on his own.

"Well, that was sentimental."

Gideon's voice chimed in his mind through the Neural Link.

Ben smirked, dropping onto his bed. "Yeah, yeah."

He let his gaze drift to the laptop on his desk. His original plan had been to launch Instagram immediately, but after thinking it over, he decided against it.

It was too soon.

Right now, all people knew about him was that he was a 15-year-old MIT student. That wasn't enough. If he launched now, the world would question how someone his age pulled this off. He needed to build credibility first.

He would take his time. Work on side projects. Get noticed in the tech world in a way that felt natural. Then, when the timing was perfect, Instagram would go live.

But for now?

He had to get through orientation.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Ben walked through the main halls of MIT, his gaze sweeping over the campus. The place had a distinct energy—clusters of students engaged in rapid discussions, some debating quantum theory over coffee, others buried in textbooks as they walked.

He blended in easily—at least, as much as a 15-year-old could in a university full of brilliant minds.

"So, first impressions?" Gideon's voice flickered through the Neural Link.

Ben smirked. "A bunch of nerds throwing around complex equations like casual gossip."

"You do realize you're one of them now?"

"Yeah, but I'm not just a nerd. I'm the nerd."

Gideon let out a simulated hum of amusement.

Reaching the main lecture hall, Ben pushed open the doors and stepped inside. The room was already filling with hundreds of new students, and despite himself, he caught more than a few people giving him a second glance.

He heard the murmurs before he even sat down.

"Is that the kid genius?"

"He's, like, fifteen, right?"

"I heard he aced every placement exam MIT threw at him."

"What's a kid like that even doing here?"

Ben ignored them, finding an empty seat in the middle rows. If they thought he was interesting now, they'd lose their minds once he started making real moves.

The orientation began soon after. It was standard stuff—professors welcoming students, an overview of programs, expectations, resources, and campus life. Nothing Ben didn't already know. Still, he paid mild attention, mentally cataloging which professors seemed worth learning from.

After about an hour, the session ended, and students began splitting into groups. Some were chatting, exchanging introductions. Others were already heading for the exits.

Ben stood up, preparing to leave, when someone stepped into his path.

"Ben Tennyson, right?"

Ben looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered student with neatly combed hair and a confident smirk. Unlike the awkward energy some students had, this guy carried himself like he belonged here.

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Depends. Who's asking?"

"David Klein." The guy extended a hand. "Computer science major, AI researcher, and startup enthusiast. Also, one of the people who's been hearing your name ever since admissions went out."

Ben shook his hand, reading his posture. Confident, relaxed. The type who thrived in social settings.

"Didn't realize I was that much of a topic," Ben said.

David chuckled. "Dude, you're fifteen and at MIT. That alone makes you interesting. But then I looked you up—"

Ben's smirk faded slightly. "You looked me up?"

David shrugged. "Had to see if the hype was real. You're a ghost online. No LinkedIn, no research papers, no published projects—nothing. Just your name and MIT acceptance." He leaned in slightly. "So, what's your deal? You planning to be some mysterious genius, or do you actually have something big in the works?"

Ben leaned back, giving him a slow grin. "Maybe both."

David studied him for a moment, then nodded approvingly. "Alright. I respect that." He pulled out a sleek business card and handed it over. "If you ever want to talk AI, machine learning, or startups, hit me up. I've got some projects going, and I like working with smart people."

Ben took the card, glancing at it before slipping it into his pocket. "I'll think about it."

David smirked. "I'm sure you will." With that, he gave a casual wave and walked off.

Ben watched him go, his mind already analyzing the interaction. David was interesting. Confident, clearly ambitious, and already trying to feel him out.

"You're attracting attention already," Gideon noted.

Ben smirked. "Good. Let's see who else notices."

-X-X-X-X-X-

Ben sat at his dorm room desk, absentmindedly tapping a pen against the wood. The past few days had been uneventful—just settling in, attending introductory lectures, and watching how people reacted to his presence.

"So, what's the play?" Gideon's voice chimed through the Neural Link.

"Step one is making an impression," Ben replied. "Right now, people know I exist, but that's not enough. If I want them to take me seriously, I need to do something that gets my name circulating for the right reasons."

"You're already at MIT at fifteen. That's impressive enough."

Ben smirked. "Not impressive enough."

He pulled up a list of ongoing research projects at MIT, skimming through them. He wasn't looking for something that would teach him anything—he already had more knowledge than anyone on this campus. What he needed was visibility.

Cybernetics, AI-driven robotics, energy manipulation… Nothing groundbreaking. In another timeline, he had designed and built technology that could outclass most of these projects.

"You don't need to join a research project," Gideon pointed out. "You could just make something on your own and let them notice it."

"Exactly," Ben said, closing the research listings. "I don't just want to be seen as a bright student. I want them to recognize me as a creator, an innovator."

Gideon hummed. "Then the question is—what's your first move?"

Ben leaned back, considering his options. If he wanted to gain attention quickly, he needed something that would hit the tech world and MIT's circles at the same time.

After a moment, his smirk widened.

"Let's build something they can't ignore."

-X-X-X-X-X-

Ben sat cross-legged on his dorm bed, a holographic interface floating in front of him. The blueprint of a sleek, compact earpiece rotated on the screen, annotated with notes detailing its core functions.

"So, what exactly are we making?" Gideon asked.

"A next-gen personal assistant," Ben replied, tweaking the design. "Think of it like a better, smarter Palm Pilot—something that connects to any device, understands context, and adapts to the user's habits."

"So… a mobile AI?"

"Sort of, but not full AI. More like an advanced algorithm that learns from use. It'll integrate with computers, handle voice commands, and act like an automated assistant for scheduling, reminders, and real-time information."

Gideon let out a simulated hum. "A little ahead of its time, but not by much. In a few years, everyone will have something similar."

"Exactly. But I'm making it first."

Ben knew this was the perfect balance—it wasn't so advanced that it felt impossible for 2001, but it was innovative enough to shake the tech world.

"So, what's the plan?" Gideon asked.

Ben pulled up another screen, detailing his rollout strategy.

Step 1: Build a working prototype. He could finish it in a week, tops with his existing knowledge.

Step 2: Let word spread subtly. Test it in real scenarios, let people see it in action without directly explaining it.

Step 3: Unveil it at the right moment. Maybe through a demo at MIT or a well-placed media leak.

"This will get attention," Gideon noted.

Ben smirked. "That's the idea."

-X-X-X-X-X-

Ben sat in the lecture hall, his chin resting on one hand as the professor wrote a long mathematical proof on the board. Around him, students were either furiously taking notes or staring blankly, overwhelmed by the complexity.

For him, this was basic.

"You could be doing something more productive than watching these people suffer." Gideon's voice chimed through his earpiece, the response instant.

Ben smirked, his fingers lazily tapping the desk. "I am. I'm letting them notice."

His other hand barely moved, but his laptop screen updated instantly. No typing. No visible input. The professor's notes were not only transcribed but summarized, key points highlighted with relevant research papers attached.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a student sitting diagonally behind him tilting her head slightly. She wasn't taking notes. She was watching his screen.

She didn't say anything, but MIT students weren't the type to ignore something unusual.

-X-X-X-X-X-

By the time he reached the MIT quad, the quiet buzz around him had grown.

David Klein—the confident startup-obsessed student from orientation—walked up beside him with a knowing grin.

"Well, well, MIT's youngest prodigy. I've got a feeling you're up to something."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I'm up to something?"

David pointed at his earpiece. "You've been walking around with that thing for days. It's not normal, and people are noticing."

Another student—the same girl who had been watching in class—stepped forward. "I saw it pull research papers in real-time during a lecture. That's not a Palm Pilot, and it's not a basic dictation tool. What is it?"

Ben just smirked. "Good eyes."

David's grin widened. "You're planning something."

Ben shrugged. "I might have a little something lined up for the Innovation Forum."

David blinked. "You're presenting?"

Ben nodded. "Next week."

David let out a low whistle. "Alright, now I'm actually interested."

-X-X-X-X-X-

Back in his dorm, Ben leaned back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head as MIT's event schedule hovered on his laptop screen.

There were a lot of tech-based gatherings, but Gideon had already narrowed it down to a shortlist of the best ones.

"So, which one is it?" Gideon asked.

Ben scrolled through the list. Some were too small, just internal showcases. Some were too formal, meant for PhD candidates presenting years of research.

Then, he saw it.

MIT's Annual Technological Innovation Forum.

Not just a student event, but a gathering where professors, researchers, and industry professionals attended. Some came looking for investment opportunities. Others just wanted to see which students were worth keeping an eye on.

"That one," Ben said, marking the date.

"Good choice. Want me to register you?"

"Already done."

He tapped his desk, calling up VISTA's interface. The final version was ready. It worked exactly as he wanted—seamless, instant, and unlike anything else available in 2001.

But he knew one thing:

A revolutionary idea meant nothing if it wasn't delivered properly.

"Time to make sure they remember my name."

-X-X-X-X-X-

The MIT Auditorium buzzed with quiet conversation, the air thick with anticipation. Students, professors, and industry professionals filled the space, some whispering about the presentations, others critically analyzing the work of the students before them.

Ben sat near the middle rows, arms crossed, scanning the room with mild disinterest. He had watched a few presentations already—a self-correcting robotic arm, a PhD candidate discussing improved lithium battery efficiency.

Smart people doing smart things. But nothing revolutionary.

"Are you nervous?" Gideon's voice came through VISTA, her tone neutral.

Ben smirked slightly. "Please. This is just a warm-up."

The moment he had been waiting for arrived.

"Our next presenter is Benjamin Tennyson."

The MIT Auditorium fell silent as Ben's name was called.

A few people turned their heads. Others whispered to their neighbors. A few professors raised an eyebrow in recognition.

He walked toward the stage with an air of absolute confidence, tapping his earpiece as he reached the podium. The large holographic display behind him flickered to life, and a single word appeared:

VISTA

Virtual Intelligent System for Tactical Assistance

From the audience, a few murmurs started. Some leaned forward, curious. Others crossed their arms, skeptical.

Ben let the moment breathe before speaking.

"I won't waste your time with long explanations. VISTA is an adaptive voice assistant—a tool that doesn't just respond to commands but understands, learns, and anticipates."

He tapped his earpiece. "VISTA, summarize this event so far."

The response was instant.

"MIT Innovation Forum. Five presentations completed. Topics covered: Advanced robotics, lithium battery efficiency, AI-guided neural interfaces, biomechanical prosthetics, and machine-learning applications. Common themes—efficiency, automation, and integration with modern hardware."

Now the audience was paying attention.

Some students exchanged glances. A few people in the back whispered to each other.

Ben smiled, then pushed further.

"VISTA, cross-reference today's topics with recent IEEE publications."

The holographic display shifted, showing a list of research papers and journal entries related to each topic.

That got a bigger reaction. Now, even the professors were leaning in.

One of the judges, an older professor with graying hair and sharp eyes, adjusted his glasses. "That's… certainly fast. But at its core, isn't this just a well-optimized search engine?"

Ben expected that.

He smirked. "VISTA, predict the next likely question based on the data in this conversation."

A brief pause. Then, the AI answered.

"Common objections to AI assistants include concerns over automation accuracy, adaptability beyond preset commands, and long-term learning limitations. Based on tone analysis and audience behavior, the next likely question pertains to VISTA's learning model and whether it improves autonomously or requires manual updates."

Silence.

The professor blinked.

Ben leaned against the podium. "Did that answer your question?"

Now the murmurs weren't just curiosity—they were excitement.

But then, from the back, another voice spoke up.

"How the hell did a 15-year-old build something like this?"

Louder whispers rippled through the crowd.

Finally. Someone said it.

Ben turned toward the voice—a tall, broad-shouldered PhD student who looked more like he belonged on a football field than in an auditorium. He was frowning, arms crossed.

"Something wrong?" Ben asked casually.

The PhD student narrowed his eyes. "This is beyond anything on the market. Natural language processing at this speed? Context awareness? Adaptive learning? Even top AI research teams haven't cracked this level of efficiency yet. And you're telling me you made it?"

A few others nodded in agreement. Some were skeptical, some genuinely curious.

Ben shrugged. "Yeah."

"You expect us to believe that?"

A second voice chimed in—this time, a female professor in her late 40s, dressed in a sharp gray blazer. "I have to admit, I share the sentiment. This is years ahead of current AI research. Either you're a genius beyond measure, or there's something you're not telling us."

Ben smiled. "I don't expect you to believe me. I expect the results to speak for themselves."

The graying professor from earlier stroked his chin. "Then tell us, Mr. Tennyson—what exactly makes VISTA different from existing AI assistants?"

Ben didn't hesitate.

"Traditional AI assistants follow linear programming models—they're reactive. You ask a question, they retrieve an answer. That's it." He gestured toward the display. "VISTA, on the other hand, doesn't just retrieve information—it analyzes, contextualizes, and predicts."

He let that sink in before continuing.

"It doesn't rely on pre-programmed responses like commercial assistants today. It learns from patterns, user behavior, and contextual cues to refine itself continuously. The more you use it, the smarter it gets."

There were no whispers anymore. Just a room full of staring faces.

One of the industry guests in the back, a man in a business suit, scribbled something on a notepad. Another whispered to the colleague beside him.

Then, the skeptical PhD student leaned back in his chair. "Alright, then prove it."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Prove what?"

"Prove that it's actually learning. Do something we wouldn't expect."

Ben grinned. "You really want to test me?"

The PhD student smirked. "You've been talking a big game. Show us something that'll make us believe you built this."

Ben tapped his earpiece again.

"VISTA, mimic this student's speech pattern and rephrase his last sentence in his own speaking style."

A short pause. Then—

"You've been runnin' your mouth a lot, kid. Let's see you back it up."

The voice was perfect. Same rhythm, same casual confidence, even the slight drop in tone at the end.

The entire auditorium burst into noise.

Some students laughed in shock. Others stared, wide-eyed. The professor from earlier let out a low whistle.

The PhD student? He just sat there, blinking.

Ben smirked. "That enough proof for you?"

The student slowly nodded. "Okay. That's impressive."

The moment VISTA had spoken in his voice, the entire atmosphere had shifted.

This wasn't just another AI project.

Ben had just changed the conversation.

-X-X-X-X-X-

The moment Ben stepped off the stage, the reaction was immediate.

Students whispered among themselves, some pulling out notebooks and frantically jotting down details. A few exchanged wide-eyed glances, while others simply stared at him as if trying to process what they had just seen.

But it wasn't just the students.

Professors were speaking in hushed tones, some clearly intrigued, others skeptical. One of them, the graying professor from earlier, was already scribbling notes in the margins of a folder.

Ben had expected all of this.

What he hadn't expected was how fast the news was spreading.

David Klein caught up to him the moment he left the main hall, an excited grin on his face.

"Holy shit, Tennyson," David exhaled, walking alongside him. "You do realize what you just did, right?"

Ben smirked. "Enlighten me."

David let out a half-laugh, gesturing wildly. "You just dropped something years ahead of its time and made half of MIT's research teams look like they're using stone tablets! Dude, people are gonna lose their minds over this."

Ben shrugged. "I thought it was a decent presentation."

David gawked at him. "Decent?" He shook his head. "Man, some of these PhD guys are gonna have an existential crisis over this."

As if on cue, a voice called out from behind them.

"Tennyson!"

Ben turned to see the broad-shouldered PhD student from earlier—the same guy who had challenged him during the forum. He looked… less irritated now. More like someone who had just witnessed a car defy gravity and couldn't decide if it was cool or terrifying.

"I gotta ask," the PhD student said as he caught up, lowering his voice. "How did you really make that? No offense, but a 15-year-old building an AI that advanced? That doesn't happen."

Ben just smiled. "Guess I'm just built different."

The guy stared at him for a second before letting out a frustrated groan. "That's not an answer, man!"

Ben chuckled, waving as he walked past. "Appreciate the feedback, though."

David was still laughing when they stepped out of the building.

"So… what's next?" David asked.

Ben tilted his head, considering. Good question.

Because after today, his name wasn't just going to be known at MIT.

It was going to spread everywhere.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Ben had just sat down in his dorm room when his phone buzzed aggressively.

Caller ID: Dad.

Ben exhaled through his nose, already guessing why.

He answered.

"BENJAMIN KIRBY TENNYSON."

Ben held the phone away from his ear. Yep. Called it.

Carl's voice was loud enough to wake the dead. "You were in a technology showcase? MIT's youngest genius?!"

Ben sighed. That was fast.

Carl wasn't done. "Why the hell did I find out from the news instead of my own son?!"

Sandra's voice came from the background. "Carl, stop yelling!"

"I am not yelling! I'm just… shouting with emotion!"

Ben smirked. "I was gonna tell you eventually."

Carl scoffed. "Oh, really? When? When we see your face on a billboard?!"

Sandra's voice took over. "Ben… you built an AI?"

Ben sighed. "Technically, I programmed an AI."

"The news is saying it's more advanced than anything on the market!"

"…Yeah, that sounds about right."

There was a brief silence.

Carl let out a short laugh, his voice filled with pride. "My son—the genius!"

Ben smirked. At least one of them was happy about it.

Sandra, however, sounded more concerned. "Ben, how did you even make something this advanced? You're a freshman, not a corporate research lab."

Ben shrugged, even though they couldn't see it. "I put in the effort."

"Ben."

"…And I'm talented."

Carl was still hyped. "Damn, my kid's a tech prodigy! So, uh, does this mean we're gonna be rich soon?"

Ben laughed. "Dad, I'm not selling it yet."

Carl snapped his fingers. "Damn. Alright, but when you do, I expect a cut."

Sandra sighed. "Ben, this is serious. The news is already talking about you. You know what happens when you get this much attention, right?"

Ben leaned back against his chair. "Yeah, Mom. I know."

Sandra was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "Just… be careful, okay?"

Ben's smirk softened. "Always."

Carl grinned. "Well, genius boy, next time you plan on making history, give your old man a heads-up."

"I'll keep that in mind."

As the call ended, Ben tossed his phone onto his desk.

The news was out.

And now? The world was watching.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Someplace far away from the crowded halls of MIT, in a sleek tower overlooking the New York skyline, a different kind of genius was at work.

Tony Stark sat in his private workshop, legs kicked up on the desk, absently twirling a wrench in one hand as he studied the holographic blueprint hovering in front of him. It was one of a hundred projects currently floating around in his mind, but none of them were urgent enough to hold his full attention.

Not that it mattered. His mind never really stopped working.

"JARVIS, run a secondary diagnostic on reactor model Mark IV," he muttered.

"Already completed, sir. No notable deviations from expected output."

Tony sighed, tossing the wrench onto the table with a clatter. "Well, that's boring. No wonder I'm restless."

There was a pause. Then JARVIS spoke again, this time with something that actually piqued his interest.

"If you're looking for something more stimulating, I believe you may find this of interest. A student at MIT has developed an artificial intelligence assistant with a real-time adaptive learning model. It has drawn significant attention at today's Innovation Forum."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "MIT? They're still doing those forums? Man, I hated those. A bunch of nerds trying to impress bigger nerds."

"Indeed, sir. However, this particular case appears noteworthy. The assistant, designated 'VISTA,' has demonstrated capabilities beyond commercially available AI systems. Its ability to anticipate user needs and contextually adapt in real time was described as 'unlike anything currently on the market.'"

Tony frowned slightly, the hologram in front of him forgotten. That actually sounded… interesting.

"Alright, who's the genius behind it?"

There was a pause.

"A 15-year-old freshman. Benjamin Tennyson."

Tony's fingers stopped mid-air, his smirk freezing in place.

Slowly, he leaned back, rubbing his chin.

"…Fifteen?"

"Yes, sir."

Tony let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Well, damn. Kid just stole my record."

There weren't many things in life that surprised him. This? This was one of them.

He sat there for a moment, considering.

Then, his smirk returned, slow and sharp.

"Alright, JARVIS. Keep an eye on this one."