Chapter 704: U: The Infinite Event (20)

Otto Octavius, a highly dedicated researcher specializing in nuclear physics, though not among the world's absolute top, was undeniably among the field's elite—but by middle age, though unmarried and childless, he bore considerable pressure.

Though Otto was a native of New York State, his birthplace lay far from New York City; his family was not merely poor—it was destitute, with only his father employed, who drank daily and occasionally resorted to domestic violence, making the economic situation self-evident.

Otto possessed exceptional aptitude for academics, rising through the ranks by solving problems until he entered the physics department of the nation's finest university; after graduation, his research path flowed smoothly, and with several papers published, he stunned the field and became a top-tier nuclear physicist.

Yet he still faced harsh realities: to work in New York City, he had to either rent or buy—and until now, Otto had always rented.

New York City rent was terrifyingly high; after years of renting, Otto realized most of his savings had gone to landlords—this could not continue.

As he grew older, marriage and family became unavoidable—but if he remained renting after marriage, a single apartment would be insufficient, while a family unit's rent was prohibitively steep; if so, better to save and buy a small apartment now, then trade up later.

After years of work, Otto had saved modestly and made some friends, so about a year ago, he purchased an apartment in a decent part of New York City, and this year added a car.

Of course, even with his income, he could not afford to buy a New York apartment outright—his home and car were both mortgaged.

Once burdened with car and home loans, his once-adequate salary now seemed meager; other researchers supplemented income with part-time work at private institutes, but Otto specialized in nuclear energy—few such institutes existed in New York City, and his focus on fusion research made them even rarer.

Just as Otto struggled with finances, a man claiming to lead the Solar System Development Project's nuclear physics research team approached him; though the project's name sounded like a scam, the salary offered made Otto's heart race.

After thorough investigation and consultations with peers, Otto discovered the project was real—humanity had already entered the Solar System development phase, and he had known nothing.

To keep pace with the times and ease his mounting debts, Otto joined the project without hesitation.

Upon entering the team, Otto knew he had come to the right place: here were the famed Dr. Reed, and Dr. Yin Sen, equally distinguished in physics—alongside Otto, the roster was stellar.

Moreover, the project's focus was monumental: extracting solar energy as a clean power source for humanity—the very core of the Solar System Development Plan.

The most elite colleagues, the most advanced laboratory facilities, the highest industry salary—could there be a better job? Otto felt impossibly lucky.

But soon he realized the project paid him so well for a reason.

Dr. Reed was not full-time here—he also oversaw near-Earth exploration and Mercury development; Dr. Yin Sen was not full-time either—he assisted at Stark Tower with Mercury base and robotics.

Thus, Otto alone was fully dedicated to this project—and worse, after he arrived, the two vanished; appearing once a week at the lab was considered generous, and all experimental burdens fell squarely on Otto.

Developing a Dyson Sphere alone was impossible—even developing a single component alone was overwhelming; after assuming full control, Otto lost more hair than he earned in salary, dark circles grew faster than his paycheck, and within a month he was unrecognizably worn out.

Worse still, Otto had previously complained the lab assistants were unprofessional—until the biology team borrowed a dozen, the Mercury development team borrowed another dozen, and all thirty-plus assistants were reassigned, leaving Otto alone in the entire project group.

Otto wondered if the project lead was targeting him—but after asking peers, he learned every team in the plan faced the same crisis: extreme manpower shortages, some projects already halted due to lack of staff.

The weight of human civilization rested on Otto's shoulders—and more importantly, he could not afford to quit; for the generous salary, he gritted his teeth and pressed on.

In research, Otto was deeply conscientious—he refused to let any experimental data be flawed, even if results came slowly, he insisted on rigor—but such work was impossible for one man; after a month of exhausting labor, he realized this could not continue.

One person has only two hands; when a project group reaches the point where the lead must wash test tubes himself, two hands are utterly insufficient.

As the market demands force technological advancement, Otto realized he must upgrade his own capabilities—to achieve the output of eight men, or he would perish in this project and fail his research.

Otto was indeed a genius—not merely in IQ, but in ingenuity; though one has only two hands, he reasoned, one could artificially add more—exoskeleton limbs were a perfect solution; even if mechanical tentacles could wash test tubes, it would help.

Guided by this thought, Otto began developing mechanical tentacles; he initially intended to mount them on his back like Iron Man's armor—the first phase succeeded, the tentacles were built, but the problem lay in their terrible flexibility.

No exoskeleton could replicate the precision of real arms; whether controlled by brainwaves or remote, delays persisted and motions remained inaccurate—such tentacle exoskeletons failed Otto's standards.

Yet pressure mounted, deadlines tightened; Otto, cornered, reasoned: human limbs are controlled by nerves—what if the tentacles were directly nerve-controlled, like limbs? Would that eliminate the flexibility issue?

Thinking this, Otto began upgrading the tentacles—but he was no neuroscientist, unaware how to connect them to his body; the project stalled—until he saw a name among other teams' researchers: Stephen Strange.

As the world's most renowned neurosurgeon, Strange possessed the skill to implant tentacles onto Otto; Otto contacted him through the lab director; upon hearing Otto's idea, Strange was awestruck.

On a serene afternoon, Otto, Connors, Pym, and Strange gathered to test whether mechanical tentacles could be controlled by human nerves—if so, this might solve the dire manpower shortage.

As expected, the surgery succeeded; thanks to Pym's presence, Otto's tentacles could shrink or expand using Pym Particles—when unused, they became tattoos on his back; when needed, they expanded into full mechanical limbs.

Flexibility was fully resolved: nerve-controlled tentacles moved with the precision of human fingers; their ability to extend and bend at will allowed instant access to any lab object—making them immensely practical, and mass production was now under consideration.

Yet four extra arms could not alleviate the crushing workload of Otto's project—and once they learned he had four arms, the experimental deadlines became even more absurd.

"This is inhuman! Even the delivery truck bringing materials—I have to back it into the garage myself! … Today! This morning! The raw materials warehouse called me—their truck broke down, and I had to pick up the materials myself! Good heavens, two machines are running—I can't leave!"

"That kid!" Otto pointed at the Spider-Man holding his arm: "That damn kid! He says he's going to help Stark Tower! Listen to that! Does he think Tony Stark needs help?!"

"

Otto stared in disbelief: "He doesn't think I need help—he thinks Tony Stark, with hundreds of thousands of suits and robots, needs help!"

"

"After he left, the warehouse kept pressuring me to pick up the materials—or they'd give them to another team. I drove my car onto New York streets—and found traffic longer than the midnight radio host's opening monologue!"

!

"Shouldn't I be swinging four tentacles through New York streets?? Then tell me—how do I get from Ridgefield to East New York?? Huh???"

Otto was clearly breaking down; he stepped forward and jabbed Iron Man's shoulder: "And you! You're just like these brats—spending three hours a day flying over New York instead of worrying about humanity's future!"

"

"To hell with humanity's future! Am I the only one responsible for it? What are you doing? Going to college? Dating? Hiding under blankets reading those damn porn comics?!"

"Dr. Otto, calm down—I only came to see Mr. Stark today, I swear I won't leave early again… You need to pick up experimental materials in East New York? I'll go right now! Right now!" Spider-Man said, backing away, while the other two Spider-Men exchanged confused glances, unsure how things had spiraled this way.

At that moment, Otto's gaze settled on the two: "You two are also Spider-Men?"

"Uh… we are, but we aren't… I mean… maybe?" Peter stammered.

He had realized—the Spider-Man defending Dr. Otto was this timeline's Spider-Man, future Peter; the other two were past Peter and Peter from another universe.

"I don't care who you are—listen: if you can contribute to research, get to the lab right now; if not, vanish from my sight—don't let me see you, not even flying around New York like idiots!" Otto's tone bordered on screaming in their faces—but the two Spider-Men looked at each other, saying nothing.

"Wait—what's going on?" Stark scanned the three Spider-Men: "You're not mimics—you're all Spider-Men?"

At that moment, Otto received a call; Peter was busy explaining multiverses and parallel universes to Stark, so he missed what Otto said—but soon Otto returned and said:

"Since you're all Spider-Men, you must all have scientific skills—the experiment has reached its critical stage. Now, immediately, come with me—I need assistants!"

"No… wait, we can come with you, but not like this—no!"

"No!"

"!"

"

Iron Man stood on the rooftop, watching Otto swing four tentacles—one coiled around each Spider-Man, the fourth like a webline anchoring to the glass facade, and all four swung together.

"Oh!"

"!"

"!"

!

Three nearly identical screams echoed from afar, jolting Zhang Pak awake in his hospital room.

He turned toward the window and saw Spider-Men, wrapped in tentacles, swinging wildly between New York's skyscrapers.