My Only Familiar Is Me[A Late-Blooming Evolution Story]

Before moving on to full-scale bioengineering, I needed to test my primary tool: [Special Command]. I had already put it through every possible scenario on myself, but this time I would be using it on someone else’s body, even if that body was linked to me through a system contract.

”Mom, I’m about to take temporary control of your body,” I said calmly, sliding the folder of medical reports aside. ”Nothing complicated or dangerous. Just a simple test of the mechanics so you’ll know what it feels like from the inside.”

”If that’s what needs to be done, go ahead,” she replied without much concern.

Her attitude actually amused me a little. It was the same expression people wore when agreeing to install yet another operating system update on their phone. Complete, unquestioning trust.

[Special Command: Maggie, clap your hands twice.]

I still was not entirely sure whether a command needed the Familiar’s full name written into the code or if a simple mental target would be enough. My former profession, however, had drilled precision into me. The cleaner the specification, the lower the chance of something going wrong.

My mother’s hands rose smoothly on their own, completely against her will. For a fraction of a second, raw animal fear flashed across her face. Her body had stopped obeying her. In the silence of the kitchen, two sharp claps echoed through the room before her arms relaxed and settled back onto her lap.

”Oh my God, what was that?” She stared at her fingers in disbelief, opening and closing her fists. ”That felt so weird. Like somebody slid thin metal wires under my skin and yanked on them like puppet strings!”

”I know. When I use it on myself, it feels exactly the same,” I said, keeping my voice steady to reassure her. ”You get used to it pretty fast.”

”Maybe you did, but there’s nothing pleasant about it,” she said, rubbing her wrists as if trying to get rid of the lingering sensation of someone else’s control. ”It immediately made me think of scenes from the old Exorcist movie.”

”First of all, I’m not a demon,” I said, feeling it necessary to make that important legal clarification. ”Second, this control exists solely to protect you. Testing’s over. Now we move on to the actual upgrade.”

[Special Command: Maggie, complete suppression of all active inflammatory processes within the body.]

For a while, nothing happened. We simply sat across from each other in silence.

”How do you feel?” I finally asked, watching carefully for the slightest change in her expression.

”Tom, you do realize that at my age, feeling perfect isn’t exactly an option. Every morning starts with something aching, something stiff, something throbbing... Wait a second.” She stopped midsentence, listening to her body with growing surprise. Slowly, she turned her head from side to side and rolled her shoulders. ”That’s strange. My lower back had been killing me all morning because of the weather, and I had a pounding headache. But now... nothing. Absolutely nothing. My head feels completely clear.”

”I’m glad it worked the way it was supposed to.” A satisfied smile tugged at my lips. ”From a biological standpoint, aging is basically one giant chronic inflammatory condition. I just put a hard stop on those signals and removed the background pain.”

”It was really that simple?” Mom looked at me as though I had just performed a miracle right in front of her.

”Those were just the basic settings.” I stood up from the table, signaling that the introductory phase was over. ”Now it’s time to turn you into Supergirl.”

”In my case, more like Super-Granny.”

”No, definitely girl,” I corrected firmly as I headed toward the living room. ”And don’t expect a miracle overnight. If you were thirty years younger, we’d start with exercise and metabolic acceleration. But after sixty years, your tissues have accumulated an enormous amount of biological junk. Before regeneration can begin, we need a major cleanup. Lie down on the couch.”

”What exactly are you planning?” she asked as she obediently settled into the cushions.

”Cellular-level microsurgery,” I explained, stopping beside her. ”As we age, the body accumulates what are known as senescent cells. They’ve outlived their usefulness, they no longer contribute anything meaningful, but they refuse to die. They just sit there releasing toxic compounds that damage the healthy tissue around them. I’m going to order their forced removal. We’ll clear the field for new, healthy cells. After that, chronic pain and inflammation should be gone for good.”

”You sound exactly like a board-certified surgeon,” she said with her familiar warm maternal smile. ”Do I need to do anything?”

”Just relax completely. During the procedure, I’ll put you into a controlled sleep state to eliminate any stress response from your nervous system.”

”Will it take long?”

”I honestly don’t know. The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish.”

[Special Command: Maggie, initiate the breakdown and conversion of all harmful cells into pure bioenergy. During the procedure, place the body into a state of deep regenerative sleep.]

Mom did not even have time to respond. Her eyes closed instantly, and her breathing became deep and steady. From the outside, it looked as though someone had simply pressed the power button on a computer.

[The Trainer’s presence increases the Familiar’s natural regeneration rate and cellular metabolic activity.]

Excellent. While the cleanup process was underway, I needed to deal with practical matters. After such a massive internal overhaul, Mom’s body would undoubtedly require an enormous amount of resources. She would need quality building material, especially easily digestible protein and amino acids, to replenish deficiencies and begin constructing new cellular structures. She was going to wake up absolutely starving.

I returned to the kitchen and checked the refrigerator. As expected, its contents fell well short of my new standards: half-empty shelves, a few leftover vegetables, and assorted light foods. Nothing suitable for serious recovery. I needed to make a quick trip to the corner store.

I stepped into the hallway, locked the apartment door, and called the elevator. But the moment the steel car closed and began descending toward the first floor, a crimson system warning flashed before my eyes:

[Warning! The distance between the Trainer and the Familiar has exceeded the permitted limit. All passive presence bonuses have been immediately canceled.]

Damn.

My heart instantly skipped out of rhythm as a surge of adrenaline flooded my system. The elevator was moving nonstop, and there was no way to stop it from inside. The second the first-floor doors slid open, I bolted for the stairwell without hesitation. Forget the elevator. Taking the stairs three steps at a time would be faster.

When I burst back onto my floor, I skidded to a stop in front of the apartment door. The status message updated again before my eyes:

[Attention: The Trainer’s presence has reestablished the connection. The Familiar’s natural regeneration rate and cellular metabolic activity have increased.]

I let out a long breath, calming my pulse, and rested a hand against the doorframe. It was my mistake. Until now, I had been upgrading only my own body, so I had never bothered to consider something as mundane as the effective range of a superpower.

After confirming that Mom’s breathing remained steady, I relaxed slightly. At the very least, I had verified one critically important fact: [Special Command] did not deactivate when the Trainer left the coverage area. Now I needed to determine exactly how long the leash was.

I pulled out my phone and downloaded a GPS utility that could measure distance with precision. After marking a starting point beside the couch, I began moving away one step at a time. Through the hallway. Into the stairwell. Down one flight. The counter stopped at exactly forty meters. At that very instant, the familiar red warning flashed across my vision, announcing that the bonuses had been suspended.

Forty meters. My Trainer level was currently four. The math practically solved itself. Most likely, the field’s radius scaled with progression and expanded by ten meters with each new level. It was a solid working theory, but I would need to verify it after my next upgrade.

I decided not to risk going outside again. Instead, I locked myself in the apartment and placed a massive order for groceries and pharmacy supplies through a delivery service.

While I waited for the order to arrive, I needed to improve my theoretical knowledge. I opened YouTube on my computer, started a playlist of professional cooking courses, and immediately ran into a new problem. The standard two-times playback speed that had once felt perfectly comfortable now seemed painfully slow. My system-enhanced brain processed incoming information too quickly. The instructor on the screen dragged out every word like someone speaking through molasses.

I ended up digging through browser extensions and installing a third-party plugin that allowed higher playback speeds. I set it to four times speed. That felt right.

Within two hours, I had finished the culinary material and moved on to academic medical channels. If I wanted to manage a Familiar’s biochemistry effectively, I needed professional-level fluency in the terminology. Symptoms, metabolic pathways, hormonal markers, all of it had to become second nature.

Every fifteen minutes, I stepped away from the screen and checked on Mom in the living room.

Eventually, the doorbell rang. A winded delivery driver in a company jacket stood on the doorstep, holding a large box packed to the brim.

”Mr. Ross? Your order from the specialty pharmacy and market,” he said, carefully setting the box on the floor. ”Cash or card?”

I quickly checked the contents against the receipt. Everything was there: amino acid complexes, concentrated protein, hydrolysates, and high-dose vitamin supplements. I opened my banking app and transferred just under a thousand dollars to the company’s account. Real bioengineering required serious investment.

After thanking the driver, I carried the box into the kitchen. It was time to put theory into practice. I pulled out a fresh carrot, washed it thoroughly, placed it on a thick oak cutting board, and picked up a heavy chef’s knife.

[The Trainer’s presence adjusts your fine motor control for maximum efficiency.]

I had never claimed to be a Michelin-star chef, and under normal circumstances I cooked without much passion. But now my body seemed to know exactly what to do. My hand moved with machine-like precision. The knife produced a perfectly rhythmic tap against the board as flawless cubes accumulated beneath the blade.

While chopping vegetables and laying portions of lean beef onto a sizzling-hot skillet, I slipped on my wireless earbuds and continued listening to a lecture on molecular biology.

By evening, the kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of homemade roast, enough to make my own stomach growl. Unfortunately, I ended up eating alone. Mom still lay motionless on the couch.

I spent most of the night in the kitchen studying medical references. Midnight came and went, yet Mom’s regenerative sleep showed no signs of ending. Then again, it made perfect sense. More than sixty years of life had left her tissues packed with mountains of cellular waste. Cleaning out that kind of mess in a few hours was impossible.

Realizing I needed to restore my own reserves so I could replenish my pool of [Special Commands], I went to bed and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning began with a faint stab of anxiety. Mom was still asleep. My nerves were beginning to fray, but at exactly ten o’clock she finally stirred and slowly opened her eyes.

”Tom?” Her voice was hoarse and disoriented. ”What time is it? How long was I asleep?”

”Your internal cleanup took nineteen hours,” I said, helping her prop herself up on her elbows. ”How do you feel? Give me the full report.”

”Nothing hurts anymore. Not at all. But I’m unbelievably weak.” She tried to stand, but her legs clearly were not cooperating. ”I feel completely drained. Tom, I think I’d rather lie down a little longer...”

”You can’t,” I said gently but firmly, taking her by the forearm and guiding her toward the kitchen. ”As people get older, their energy production drops because aging mitochondria stop operating at full capacity. We cleared out all the dead weight and freed up space, which means your body is dealing with a major resource shortage right now. If we don’t give it raw materials immediately, it’ll start starving at the cellular level. You need something substantial. I’d happily serve you a giant plate of yesterday’s roast, but your digestive system isn’t ready for that yet. You need a concentrate.”

I slid a large blender pitcher to the center of the table. It was filled to the brim with a thick mixture of amino acids, protein hydrolysate, and vitamin supplements.

”Well, would you look at that...” she said with a faint smile as she looked at the glass. ”I used to feed you formula and baby cereal. Now it looks like we’ve switched places.”

Nostalgia was all well and good, but this was not the time for it. Every minute of delay reduced the efficiency of the regeneration process. Without a word, I poured the mixture into a large glass and pushed it toward her.

Mom gave it an honest effort. She managed several large gulps before setting the glass aside with a sigh.

”That’s it, Tom. I can’t drink any more. My stomach isn’t what it used to be. You know that.”

”I know, Mom. But you need to finish all of it. Every last drop. Otherwise this entire process goes to waste. So forgive me in advance.”

[Special Command: Maggie, completely drain the glass.]

Her fingers locked around the cup against her will. She lifted it to her lips and, within seconds, swallowed the remaining contents in powerful gulps, as though liquid were being pumped directly from one container into another.

After setting the empty glass on the table, she began breathing heavily and pressed a hand against her mouth. ”Tom... I don’t feel so good. I think I’m going to throw it all back up...”

”You won’t. I’ve got it under control.”

[Special Command: Maggie, remove internal limits on cellular division and initiate the renewal process. During resource allocation, place the body into a state of restorative sleep.]

Mom lost consciousness right there in the chair. I carefully caught her limp body, carried her back into the living room, and laid her on the couch, adjusting the pillow beneath her head. The process was underway. Once this phase was complete, she would forget what it felt like to live with constant fatigue and shortness of breath. As far as the foundation was concerned, the hard part was already done.

I returned to the kitchen, intending to finally sit down and conduct a detailed review of her medical records, when my phone vibrated in my jeans pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. There was a text message from Selina: I’ll be at your place tomorrow at 3:00 PM.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose wearily. What did our tireless engineer want this time from a humble second lieutenant? Given her personality and the nature of our previous projects, one thing was certain: this visit was not going to be boring.