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

The air conditioner in our SUV had been running flat out for the last half hour, yet Bogotá’s humid, suffocating heat still managed to creep through the doors. The vehicle rolled to a smooth stop in front of a tall corrugated-metal fence that completely blocked a four-lane city thoroughfare. Bright orange traffic cones were scattered everywhere. A steady stream of cars, horns blaring, was being funneled onto a narrow detour to the left. Even the overcrowded city buses obediently veered off course, following the temporary roadwork signs.

In the middle of the street stood a massive framework draped in heavy green tarpaulin. Officially, it was a dust barrier meant to shield local residents from construction debris. In reality, it was an airtight cocoon that concealed everything happening inside. The roof had been covered as well, preventing any view from civilian or surveillance drones. To complete the illusion, a constant soundtrack drifted from behind the perimeter at regular intervals through concealed speakers: the pounding rattle of a jackhammer and the high-pitched scream of a concrete saw cutting through stone.

”Not bad,” I said, studying the ”construction site” through the side window. ”Looks real enough. If I hadn’t read the Corps’ internal protocols, I’d think this was a routine road repair job.”

”The Corps knows what it’s doing.” Danny smirked and killed the engine. ”Those protocols are forty years old, Tom. They were written back when guys like us were still crawling around under tables. The old guard figured this stuff out a long time ago.”

”Still, there’s one problem.”

”Oh yeah?” Danny turned toward me, resting an elbow on the steering wheel. ”Let’s hear it. What did the finest minds in the Pentagon and the Corps miss, according to Second Lieutenant Ross?”

”Officially, this is a municipal roadwork project approved by the Colombian government. Right?”

”Exactly. The paperwork’s spotless. Only a couple of people at the very top know what’s actually under that tarp. Hell, even the transportation minister thinks his crews are replacing a drainage line.” He nodded.

”So the site is on Colombian soil, registered as a domestic infrastructure project, and supposedly staffed by local workers,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. ”Except instead of Colombian workers, they sent us. Two unmistakable gringos. Any observant passerby would know something’s off. Doesn’t that strike you as a little suspicious?”

”Oh, Tom...” Danny sighed and held up two fingers. ”First, you’re the most detail-obsessed pain in the ass I’ve met in my entire career. Second, there are people at headquarters who get paid very well to think about smartasses exactly like you.”

He leaned over the armrest, grabbed two neon-orange reflective safety vests with LED strips from the back seat, and handed one to me.

”Put it on and keep it on while we’re inside the perimeter.” Danny slipped into his own vest with practiced ease. ”To anyone around here, you’re not an American soldier. You’re a consultant from the States. Questions tend to disappear after that.”

”Fair enough,” I said, pulling the stiff synthetic fabric over my T-shirt.

We stepped out of the cool SUV and straight into the shimmering heat of a Latin American midday. The entrance to the site was only about ten yards away. We walked alongside the stretched green tarp while traffic drifted past in a slow, lazy stream.

”What if some curious teenager comes along?” I slowed beside the wall of fabric and tapped the taut material with a finger. ”One nail, one little hole, and the whole secrecy thing goes out the window.”

”More likely the nail breaks.” Danny rapped his knuckles against the tarp.

Instead of the soft rustle of fabric, the impact produced the dense, muffled sound of a solid wall.

”There’s a layer of high-density concrete underneath. You’d need a rotary hammer to get through it. And if anyone starts making that kind of noise, the security team inside will respond long before the local cops make it to the intersection.”

My inner perfectionist, forever attached to rules and procedures, was satisfied. The perimeter security had been put together properly.

We approached a heavy wooden door that looked hastily assembled and was smeared with streaks of gray paint and whitewash, the perfect finishing touch for a construction entrance. Danny knocked out a specific rhythm. A second later, a bolt clicked, and the door cracked open.

A man stood in the doorway wearing a standard construction helmet and worn coveralls. Dark skin, sharp features, exactly the sort of local face you could find by the thousands on Bogotá’s streets. But the illusion vanished the moment he spoke. His accent was crisp and unmistakable, pure New England. Not a trace of Spanish in it.

”Captain Kim.” The operative gave my former handler a brief military nod. Then his sharp gaze shifted to me. ”And if I’m not mistaken, Second Lieutenant Ross. Please present the QR code from your mobilization notice.”

I pulled out my phone, unlocked the screen, and displayed the code. The operative raised a portable scanner disguised as an ordinary data-collection terminal and aimed it at the display. The device emitted a quiet beep and flashed green.

”Verification successful. Protocol compliance confirmed. No tardiness recorded. No contractual penalties apply.” The man stepped aside, holding the heavy door open for us. ”Your official contract with the Corps is now active as of this moment. Welcome to the site.”

The instant I crossed the threshold and took in the interior, the noise and chaos of the street vanished, replaced by a sharp sense of discipline. Everything here radiated harsh, practical efficiency. The training camp, which now seemed more like an elite summer camp for privileged kids, was not even remotely comparable to this place.

This was a genuine forward operating base crammed into a severely limited footprint. Neat rows of hastily assembled prefab barracks, a long line of portable toilets, and a compact shower block with a large handwritten sign in English: ”Save Water. Limit: 3 Minutes Per Person.” Lean, fit men and women moved purposefully in every direction. Every one of them wore plain black military T-shirts without insignia and carried the same focused, serious expression. Along the bunker walls stood stacks of gray plastic containers marked with Corps insignia, their contents easy enough to guess: assault rifles, ammunition, and tactical gear.

But my attention shifted instantly to the center of the hall. There it was. The portal.

A perfectly smooth matte-white square hovered a couple of feet above the floor. It looked like a fragment of pure lightning frozen in time. The energy pouring from it was so intense that even from several yards away I felt the hair on my arms stand on end as a wave of tingling rolled across my skin. The air around the rift crackled with an overwhelming concentration of S-Power. The sensation was physical, immense, and utterly unforgettable.

”First time seeing an active portal in person?” Danny dropped a heavy hand onto my shoulder, snapping me out of my trance. ”Don’t worry about it, Tom. I looked exactly the same the first time. Like I’d seen a ghost.”

”Can I get closer?” I asked, unable to tear my eyes away from the pulsing whiteness that seemed to swallow the light around it.

”Of course. You’re a full Corps soldier now. You’ve got complete clearance.” Danny shrugged and stepped forward. ”Go take a look. Just don’t touch it, and don’t stick anything through without orders. You’ll get plenty of chances to experience the jump once the operation starts.”

I moved closer to the glowing outline. There were no yellow warning tapes around the spatial rift, no armed guards standing watch. Apparently, Corps administration operated on a simple principle: lunatics and idiots never made it this far, and professionals did not need to be reminded of obvious dangers.

I slowly circled the portal, examining it with the methodical thoroughness of a former clerk. It was astonishingly thin, like the edge of a sheet of optical glass, and what stood out most was that it cast no shadow whatsoever. It radiated neither arctic cold nor scorching heat. The temperature inside the bunker remained completely unchanged.

As I completed my circuit, I nearly collided with a small figure. Mary Rogers. Of course. The little ice queen was here too. The Corps’ bureaucratic machine handed out mobilization orders without much regard for age.

”Hey,” I said evenly, out of nothing more than basic courtesy.

”Hey,” she replied in the same flat tone, without even turning her head.

”Sorry for the personal question,” Danny said as he appeared behind me and inserted himself into the conversation, looking down at the girl. ”But how old are you, kid?”

”Twelve and a half.” Mary gave him a brief, indifferent glance, as though evaluating a piece of equipment, then returned her attention to the white square.

”Wow.” Kim scratched the back of his head, and for a moment his usual confidence slipped. ”I’ve been doing this almost ten years. I’ve seen a lot, and I’m used to working with teenagers. But honestly, this is the first time I’ve seen anyone under fourteen sent through a combat portal.”

”Mm-hmm,” she replied without emotion, completely uninterested in his surprise.

”You at least know who you’re talking to?” Danny bounced back immediately, hooking a thumb toward his chest and flashing his trademark movie-star smile.

”Captain Daniel Kim,” she recited in a monotone voice, like a well-programmed digital assistant. ”Pyrokinetic. Superhero. Media figure known for fighting wildfires. Awakened with the highest destructive potential in the country. Permanent residence: San Francisco.”

”Well, would you look at that. Everything checks out. That really is me.” Danny’s grin widened noticeably. ”Listen, if you’d like, I can talk to command and arrange to stick with you on the other side. Help you get settled in.”

”I’ll be fine,” Mary replied with icy calm. ”For my long-term effectiveness, it’s more beneficial to gain practical experience under a demanding assault-team commander than waste time with a celebrity babysitter.”

Without another word, Mary walked around the portal and began examining it from the opposite side. As far as she was concerned, our share of her attention had been exhausted.

Danny visibly deflated. The smile vanished, and his shoulders sagged slightly. I actually felt a little sorry for him. He was the second genuinely cheerful person I had seen whose sincere friendliness Mary Rogers had casually crushed within minutes of meeting her.

”Did I... say something wrong?” Danny asked in a disappointed whisper, glancing toward the girl.

”I’m sure you didn’t,” I replied just as quietly, guiding him a few steps away so there was no chance the conversation would carry. ”I’ve had time to study her habits. Mary generally doesn’t view people as actual human beings unless she sees some immediate practical value in them. It’s not about you, Danny. That’s just how she approaches the world.”

”Tom, can I ask you something? Just between us. Is she your daughter?”

”Where do these ridiculous ideas even come from?” I frowned at Danny, then glanced toward the redheaded girl. ”Look at us. We don’t resemble each other in the slightest. We don’t even share a last name.”

”Yeah, I know, I know. It’s just...” Danny looked away, searching for words that would not make him sound like an idiot. ”You said you know her pretty well. And honestly, her personality is... kind of exactly like yours. Same cold stare. Same habit of calculating every little thing.”

”You know, Danny, I also know a famous green-skinned guy who loves pizza and yells ’Cowabunga,’ but that doesn’t make you his close relative, does it?” I replied calmly. ”The reason I know her is simple. We were in the same training camp. As for personality traits, pragmatism isn’t anybody’s exclusive property. I know at least one other extremely calculating woman in the Corps with a very similar mindset, and she’s not related to either of us.”

”Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have brought that up.” Danny let out a long sigh and raised both hands in surrender. ”Tom, forget it. My bad. Hope I didn’t offend you.”

”You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” I said honestly. ”There’s nothing offensive about it. You proposed a working theory based on superficial similarities. I presented contradictory evidence and disproved it. Standard procedure. Nothing personal.”

”Talking to you is somehow incredibly complicated and ridiculously simple at the same time.” Danny shook his head with an amused chuckle.

At that moment, another measured knock echoed from the heavy entrance door. I turned and watched as the duty operative went through the familiar routine of scanning the arriving recruits’ codes. The first person through the door was a tall man I did not recognize. Right behind him came a broad-shouldered teenager in excellent shape. His hair had been cut to regulation length, and the civilian earring that used to hang from one ear was gone, but I recognized him immediately. It was Ted, my former trainee from the camp and, in civilian-school terms, a classmate.

”Tom!” the boy shouted the instant he spotted me. His face lit up, and he headed straight toward me with long, eager strides.

”Another one from your class?” Danny asked quickly after seeing the newcomer’s reaction.

”That’s him.”

”No kidding. Three recruits from the same training intake assigned to the same portal right out of the gate. That’s unusually rare for a first deployment.” Danny nodded approvingly and stepped back. ”All right, Lieutenant. I’m gonna go check in with the coordinators. No point getting in the way of a class reunion.”