Chương 30: Asset Registration

In front of my eyes loomed a heavy, monumental building made of gray concrete. Above the entrance, an American flag lazily fluttered in the morning breeze, and on the facade a concise inscription stood out: Washington State Induction Center. Looking at it from the outside, I caught myself thinking it was the most ordinary, painfully typical military facility, lost among civilian blocks.

If there had not been a slip of paper with the exact address in my memory palace, I would never have guessed that behind these faceless walls the testing of the Awakened, the new elite of humanity, was taking place. By the way, talking about what lies inside this concrete cube is strictly forbidden. Military secret. Breaking silence here is treated as treason, with all the consequences that follow. I glanced at my wristwatch. Exactly eight o'clock. Perfect timing.

My letter did not specify an exact appointment time, but my curator Danny, along with countless threads on army forums I had combed through over the past weeks, all said the same thing: come early. The army does not like people who leave important matters to the last minute. I ran my hand over my head without thinking. The sensation felt unfamiliar. I had cut my hair almost down to nothing.

There are no official hairstyle requirements for the Awakened, since the army is not yet ready to dictate terms to people who can incinerate a building with a snap of their fingers, but I decided to make my life easier. According to Danny, right after the medical examination we would be transferred to a training zone where they would push us harder than anything I had ever experienced.

In that situation, long hair getting in my eyes and sticking to a sweaty forehead would only be an unnecessary distraction, so I got rid of it without regret. A heavy bag hung from my shoulder. Danny assured me the US Army is far from poor and does not cut corners on valuable assets. They would provide everything, from high quality sportswear to toothbrushes. Still, I brought paper copies of all my certificates.

Experience told me that in a bureaucratic machine it is better to have a physical document with a stamp in your hands. Waving a smartphone screen in front of a stern officer would not work here. Bringing any electronics into areas connected to the Awakened is strictly prohibited. It is a harsh but effective measure against leaks. So I left my fancy smartphone at home and filled my bag with ordinary printed books to keep my mind occupied in the barracks before sleep. Choosing what to bring took time.

Unlike a device, a book has no lock screen, and any passing sergeant can immediately see what you are reading. I set aside Harry Potter and other teenage fantasy right away. I did not want the army command to see me as an immature softie from day one. Instead, I picked a couple of serious works on tactics and history, just in case they contained useful insights for someone preparing to become a universal soldier.

I caught myself thinking with irony that for the past three months I had been preparing for the army as if I were about to enter a maximum security prison. I built muscle, learned combat skills, memorized rules, and brought only the permitted minimum. Considering that I was being dragged into this closed zone without the slightest hint of voluntary consent, the line between honorable service and imprisonment felt damn thin. I pushed the heavy door and stepped inside.

The interior greeted me with institutional cleanliness and the specific smell of old paint. A typical enlistment office, with ordinary soldiers in camouflage sitting behind desks.

"What is your business?" the duty officer at the counter raised an indifferent gaze at me without looking up from his stack of papers.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes, I am Thomas Ross," I said, handing over my driver's license. The soldier checked the list on his computer, then picked up a service phone and spoke a couple of short phrases.

"Understood. Wait here. Someone will come for you shortly." Shortly really did not take long. Just a couple of minutes later, a solidly built man in uniform appeared in the hall and motioned for me to follow. He led me to a sterile changing room with lockers lined along the walls.

"Leave all personal belongings in a locker," he said dryly, in a tone straight out of regulations, handing me a thin hospital gown.

"You should have nothing on you except this. Remove everything, including your underwear. I will wait outside." So be it. I quickly placed my clothes and bag into a locker, turned the key, and pulled on the excuse for clothing. The gown, tied at the back, was uncomfortable to say the least. Cold air brushed unpleasantly against my skin, and my bare feet felt the chill of the tile floor. My escort solved that last issue in his own way. He was already waiting in the corridor with a wheelchair.

They started rolling me from one doctor's office to another, and the whole thing felt surreal. I felt like some high ranking patient or a VIP. Memories of Vietnam veterans' memoirs surfaced in my mind, another dark period in US history when people were sent to war against their will. They wrote that during medical examinations they were stripped down to their underwear and made to sit in huge crowds on narrow worn benches, waiting for hours while a doctor finished his endless smoke break.

With the Awakened, the army behaved very differently. They treated us like expensive and highly unstable weapons. The first stop was the therapist's office. The doctor, dressed in an immaculate white coat, asked standard, rehearsed questions.

"Do you have any complaints about your health, Mr. Ross? Any past injuries we should know about? Are you taking any medications on a regular basis?"

"No," I replied calmly.

"I am completely healthy." Naturally, no one took my word for it. They sent me through the full circuit: blood drawn from a vein, X ray, ECG, and a whole pile of other tests whose purpose I could only guess. My escort silently and patiently wheeled me from room to room without saying a single unnecessary word. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Danny once mentioned that Awakened are usually accompanied to medical examinations by their parents and personal curators. Most of them are teenagers with unstable psyches. They need moral support, a mother's warm hand, and a reassuring whisper so they do not panic at the sight of a needle, enter resonance, and blow the entire building to hell. I could have brought my mom and Danny too. But I dismissed that idea immediately. I am an adult man, and I do not need someone holding my hand while blood is being drawn.

Let them stay at home, in peace and comfort, while I step into this new world. The final note was a visit to the dentist. It turned out the US Army is willing to bring the teeth of its valuable assets into perfect condition completely free of charge. While the doctor worked inside my mouth, I felt a sharp pang of regret. If only I had received my superpowers back in childhood, along with Megan. Then my mom would not have had to spend a fortune on my braces. Still, better late than never.

All the tests were done, and now all that remained was to wait. An amazing feeling. No lines, no grumbling receptionists, no endless "the doctor is on rounds, please take a seat." Everything worked like a clock, precise and silent. This must be how wealthy people feel in elite Swiss clinics. You are not a petitioner. You are a valuable asset whose time is too expensive to waste in corridors. But it was too early to relax. Three final offices loomed ahead, and my fate was being decided there right now.

What I said and how I behaved would determine whether I would serve in an elite unit or end up as second rate cannon fodder. They wheeled me into the psychiatrist's office. An elderly man sat at the desk. His voice sounded so tired and his face so worn, as if every breath I took was stealing the last seconds of his life. He did not look at me, his gaze fixed on a tablet.

"Do you take drugs?" he rasped, lifting his stylus over the next line of the form.

"No," I replied as clearly and honestly as possible.

"Have you ever wanted to try them?" I hesitated for a second. A thought about steroids flashed through my mind. Technically, they are chemicals, substances that alter metabolism. Are they drugs? In a broad sense, perhaps. But this was not the moment for philosophical debates.

"No," I lied, looking straight at the bridge of his nose. I stuck to a strict yes or no tactic, not allowing myself any unnecessary elaboration. The questions came like a machine gun, all template based. No Rorschach inkblot tests or deep questions like, "If you could go back in time and save one person, who would it be?" I stayed alert. Veterans on the forums had warned that a military psychiatrist is not your friend and not someone to cry to. You do not joke with them.

Say something like, "Yeah, I start every morning with a joint, want to share?" and your file gets stamped with a big mark of insanity. A joker like that would never be trusted with even a kitchen knife, let alone a rifle. On the other hand, Danny had said that it is almost impossible to fail an Awakened. We are too rare and too valuable to be written off as unstable. I would be sent into a portal anyway.

The only question was with what label: "competent specialist" or "unstable psycho who is better kept on the front line under the watch of a blocking unit." Finally, the old man nodded, and I was rolled out into the corridor. First round was mine. The next office had no sign, but I knew its purpose. This was where I had to lay my cards on the table and describe my superpowers in full detail. I had rehearsed this moment many times and came to a simple conclusion: dodging or hiding anything would only hurt me.

The state definitely already had a file on me, possibly with details I did not even know myself. If I got caught lying, my reputation would be ruined. I had nothing to hide. I was not planning to take over the world, not yet, and an honest account could help military doctors accelerate my development. Danny had insisted that this stage would determine my future role in the hierarchy of the Awakened Corps. Inside, a surprise was waiting for me.

Instead of a grim soldier, a pretty blonde woman in a spotless white coat and thin framed glasses sat at the desk. She looked about my age.

"Hello, Mr. Ross," she said in a light, almost melodic voice, giving me a professional yet genuinely warm smile.

"Please tell me about your abilities. Don't be shy, you can explain it in your own words, however you prefer." I took a breath and asked, "Have you watched Pokémon?"

"Um…" she hesitated for a moment and adjusted her glasses.

"I think I saw a couple of episodes as a kid. Why do you ask?"

"Because in my case, I'm both the guy in the cap and his electric squirrel." I began my explanation. Step by step, in detail, I described my system windows, the Trainer interface, and the incredible possibilities for accelerated learning that I had discovered. Doctor Langstrom, I caught the name on her badge, wrote in her notebook at a frantic pace. It was clear this was not just work for her, it was genuine scientific excitement.

The other doctors had looked at me like just another specimen, but she absorbed every word. When I finished, a flood of questions hit me.

"Can you train other people? Do you see S Power reserves in all living beings? Are you seriously claiming that you've surpassed Usain Bolt's record?" I answered honestly. I even started to enjoy her enthusiasm. She was the only person here who did not want me out of the office as quickly as possible. The final stage was the meeting with military leadership. A large office, a heavy desk, and a lean man in a service jacket with major's insignia. This stage usually takes a minute.

When asked about skills beyond superpowers and school education, most Awakened teenagers simply shake their heads.

"Mr. Ross, do you have any specific skills?" the major looked at me over his documents.

"Anything beyond the standard school curriculum. Understand this, the army can make use of any talent." I was not going to miss this chance. I was not a frightened teenager. I came here to win.

"I've got a lot of skills, sir. And I'm ready to confirm them with documentation right now." I turned to my escort.

"Bring me my bag, please." The soldier glanced questioningly at the major, who gave a barely noticeable nod. A couple of minutes later, an impressive stack of certificates appeared on the desk in front of me.

"Full course in handling all types of small arms at the Taran club…" the major began flipping through the papers, and his eyebrows slowly rose.

"Advanced certification in water rescue? A certificate in tactical medicine?"

"I figured it wouldn't hurt," I added modestly. The major studied my collection for a long time. It seemed that the only thing that did not impress him was my college diploma. After a thorough review and verification of the serial numbers on a special website, he carefully attached everything to my personal file. It seemed my folder had become the thickest for a cadet in history. I did not know how much it would advance my career, but the respect in the officer's eyes was worth a lot.

I returned to the changing room, gladly pulled off the hospital gown, and put on my usual jeans and T shirt. Civilian life was officially on pause. All that remained was to wait for the final results, and the first bus would take me to a military base. To the place where I would finally see the Awakened Corps with my own eyes.