Chương 31: A Ride with Strangers

I changed into my own clothes, savoring the familiar softness of the fabric after the sterile hospital gown, and obediently headed to the reception area. I was told to wait for further instructions on the same bench where it had all begun, right next to the desk of the gloomy soldier to whom I had only recently presented my driver's license. Settling onto the hard wood, I looked around. The contrast was striking.

After the VIP medical examination, where I had not been left unattended for even a minute and the doctors had behaved like staff at an elite clinic, this reception area felt like a clear downgrade. There were no giant plasma screens on the walls, no soft music, no complimentary bar with refreshing drinks. The service had ended the moment the door to the examination room closed behind me.

On the other hand, mounted on the wall like a monument to a bygone era, there was an old wired telephone with a time-yellowed rotary dial. Next to it hung a sign: Free Calls. I approached the device, feeling the weight of the receiver settle into my palm. My fingers moved on their own across the dial, pulling my mother's number from the depths of my memory palace.

As the steady, slightly rattling ringing sounded in the receiver, I caught myself returning to an unpleasant thought: all of this felt an awful lot like a prison. The same institutional atmosphere, the same restrictions on movement, and this phone as the only window to the outside world, available in a strictly designated spot. No smartphone contacts within reach, only what you had managed to keep in your own head.

"Hello," my mother's brisk voice came through the receiver.

"Who's this?" I smiled involuntarily, leaning my shoulder against the cold wall.

"It's me, Mom. Just calling to say I'm doing fine. Alive, well, and only slightly terrified."

"Tom!" Relief instantly cut through her voice, mixed with familiar worry.

"Did you already go through their commission? I bet those doctors made you wait half a day again while they were off drinking tea. I know how they work in those government institutions, I've seen enough in hospitals..." I let out a quiet chuckle, recalling the recent surreal experience.

"You know, it actually went surprisingly fast. Too fast, even. You wouldn't believe it, they wheeled me around all the offices in a wheelchair so I wouldn't have to strain my legs. The doctors smiled like I was their favorite nephew, nobody was rude, and at the end they gave me yogurt with cookies. I feel like I landed at an all-inclusive resort, and get this, it's all completely free." A long, heavy silence settled on the other end of the line.

I could almost hear the gears in her head trying to reconcile my words with reality.

"Tom," she began cautiously, as if she was afraid of scaring me off.

"Are you sure you're at a US military recruitment office right now? Maybe the pilot mixed something up and you accidentally landed somewhere in Switzerland or Germany?"

"I'm shocked myself, Mom. Maybe this is how they treat all future soldiers here. You know, compensation for the risk ahead, psychological prep so we don't run off on day one."

"In that case," she snorted, slipping back into her usual skepticism, "they should've been driving you around the corridors in a limousine at the very least. Alright, I won't complain. When will you be able to call me next?" I glanced at the soldier behind the desk. He was methodically punching holes in a stack of papers, not paying me the slightest attention.

"I don't know, honestly. Where they're transferring me, there probably won't be any connection at all. How long I'll be stuck there is also an open question. Danny warned me the training period is highly individual: some people pick everything up in a week, others stay there for months. Listen, will you mind if I call him now? I need to sort out a couple of formalities."

"Go ahead! I'm not some kind of tyrant who forbids her son from talking to his friends," she sighed, and I felt a slight tremor in her voice.

"Just... call me whenever you get the chance, Tom. Promise?"

"I promise, Mom. Love you." I carefully placed the receiver back on the hook, then immediately picked it up again, mechanically dialing my curator's number. I cast a brief glance at the soldier, he could not care less. I could have called Australia and driven the recruitment office into astronomical long-distance debt, and it would not have concerned him any more than yesterday's trash.

"Hey, Danny, it's Tom. Reporting in: medical exam passed, I'm clean and ready for heroic deeds."

"I'd be seriously worried about the country if you hadn't passed it," the curator's dry chuckle came through the receiver.

"Listen, I personally knew a guy who got accepted into the program with one leg missing. The US has its own views on biological defects, so our selection criteria differ quite a bit from standard army ones."

"And here I was getting all proud of how healthy I am," I replied half-jokingly, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease a little.

"How did it go overall? No incidents? Don't you regret that I didn't come along as your support group?"

"Exactly how you described it. They practically led me by the hand from door to door. You would've just wasted your time staring at the ceiling. So it's good you stayed home, at least you get a break from me."

"You're a real gem, not a recruit, Tom," Danny said, a genuine smile audible in his voice.

"If all conscripts had your level of common sense, my job would turn into a vacation."

"Well, you're no slouch either. Your advice really saved me a lot of nerves. You should've seen the look on their boss's face when I laid out my stack of certificates on the table. You could practically read in his eyes that he wanted to hand me general's epaulettes on the spot. So thanks, Danny. Without you I definitely would've messed things up."

"No problem," he hesitated for a second, and I could tell the gratitude genuinely pleased him.

"Moments like this remind me I'm not wasting my time as a curator."

"Listen," I lowered my voice, even though the soldier continued to ignore reality.

"I understand that formally I stopped being your responsibility the moment I crossed that threshold. But maybe you've got some final advice?"

"Hmm..." Danny paused. I could hear his steady breathing through the receiver.

"I think I've already given you everything important. But there is something. It's not exactly an instruction, more like an observation."

"I'm all ears. Right now any bit of information is worth its weight in gold to me."

"At the camp, you most likely won't be alone. You understand, assembling a full class from people like us isn't easy, people like you don't show up every day. Teenagers get pulled in as soon as their indicator lights up, and you're a unique case, an adult. But I've never heard of an entire training complex running for just one person. It isn't cost-effective. So you'll most likely have a couple of classmates. My advice: try to befriend them. Don't shut yourself off."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Why?" I grimaced involuntarily, imagining a crowd of hyperactive teenagers with hormones in overdrive.

"You said yourself the chances of us ending up in the same operational unit later are practically zero."

"That's just it, they're practically zero, but they never actually reach zero," he corrected in a lecturing tone.

"Teams are formed based on ability synergy. There's a chance someone among them will have a skill set that complements yours. So don't miss the opportunity to build bridges early. Friends in our line of work are a scarce resource."

"Yeah," I muttered, unable to hide my skepticism. I accepted Danny's logic, it was flawless from a practical standpoint. But inside, everything resisted. The mere thought that I, a thirty-two-year-old man, would have to hang out and find common ground with kids half my age gave me a quiet migraine. Honestly, I would have preferred complete solitude over that strict-regime daycare scenario. The conversation came to an end.

There was no one else for me to call, all the important connections in my life had fit into those two calls. There was still my paintball team, but my relationship with them was not at that level where I would talk about how my day had gone. I returned to my bench. Taking the book I had prudently brought with me out of my bag, I immersed myself in reading, trying to ignore the oppressive silence of the reception area.

"Thomas Ross, outside!" the soldier's voice cut through the silence of the room, making me flinch and pull away from the book. He stood in the doorway, giving me a short nod and gesturing for me to follow. I snapped the book shut, feeling a stir of anticipation mixed with a sticky chill of the unknown. We stepped out into the sunlit courtyard of the recruitment office, where right by the entrance stood a massive, ostentatiously grand bus.

Its body, painted in matte olive military color, gleamed in the light, and its tinted windows concealed everything inside. It looked more like a mobile special forces command center than transport for recruits. A surprise awaited me inside. Aside from the driver, frozen behind the wheel like a mannequin, there were four others in the cabin. Children. Three of them, two boys and a girl, looked about fifteen, typical teenagers with awkward movements and prickly stares.

The fourth was a very young girl, who could not have been more than twelve. They sat as far from one another as possible, clutching their seats like life buoys. Where had they been kept all this time? Maybe they had separate lounge areas for minors, or they had simply passed the examination earlier and were being held here while waiting for the final participant. The moment I stepped inside, all four of them stared at me in unison. A mix of wariness and curiosity was clearly written in their eyes.

I probably should have said some kind of greeting to my future colleagues, but the words stuck in my throat. I simply walked silently deeper into the cabin and took an empty seat by the window, thankfully there were plenty available.

"We'll arrive at our destination in a few hours," the speaker above my head rasped with the driver's voice. The bus moved smoothly, rolling out through the gates and leaving the city behind. I stared out the window, watching as the concrete jungle gradually gave way to a monotonous suburban landscape.

"Yo, people!" the silence was rudely shattered by a loud, slightly cracking voice. A pimple-faced boy with a defiant earring in his left ear climbed onto his seat with his feet, looking like a restless monkey.

"This ride sucks, seriously! Boring as hell. Let's at least get to know each other or something. Name's Ted."

"I'm Nick," replied a dark-skinned boy with thick-lensed glasses. He sat straight as a rod, trying to look more serious than he actually was.

"Louise," the dark-haired girl with two neat braids raised her hand slightly from a couple of rows away.

"And who're you supposed to be, kid?" Ted did not wait for an invitation and hopped over the seatback, landing next to the youngest passenger.

"Don't worry, I don't mess with girls, swear!"

"Mary," the girl did not even move. She looked him straight in the eyes with a cold, entirely unchildlike gaze and demonstratively crossed her arms over her chest.

"Nice name!" Ted reached out to ruffle her hair in a familiar gesture, but in the next second he yelped in pain and jerked his hand back after receiving a sharp, precise strike to the wrist.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, real steel ringing in her voice.

"Just because we ended up in the same boat doesn't make us friends. In a few days I'll leave this camp and never see any of you again. Got it?"

"Got it?" Ted twisted his face mockingly and began mimicking her in a thin voice.

"Look at her, acting all fancy! Tiny little brat."

"Kindergarten," Mary simply turned away toward the window with visible disdain, making it clear the conversation was over. An awkward pause followed. I realized this was the perfect moment to make my presence known before they started tearing into each other for real.

"Tom Ross," I said in a calm, deep voice. They all flinched in surprise, as if only now realizing there was someone bigger and older than them on the bus.

"Nice to meet you, sir!" Nick immediately straightened up in his seat, almost snapping into a formal posture. The others, caught by the same instinct, also pulled themselves together and fell silent.

"No need for the 'sir,'" I said, slightly grimacing at the formality.

"We will be sharing the same barracks and eating from the same pot in the mess hall. We are equals here."

"What? Equals?" Ted blinked stupidly, shifting his gaze from my short haircut to my broad shoulders.

"Isn't it obvious, idiot," Mary snorted arrogantly without even turning around.

"Tom's just as Awakened as the rest of us."

"And I thought you were some kind of escort sergeant..." Nick looked at the others in confusion.

"You know, big, adult, you've got that... military look."

"Do not judge a book by its cover," I could not resist the cliché, but very accurate phrase.

"I am just as new to this system as each of you."

"How's that even possible?!" Ted exploded, nearly falling off his seat.

"How old are you, like thirty? Twenty-five? It says online that only teenagers can be Awakened! That's a medical fact!"

"Every rule has exceptions, and you are looking at one right now," I replied, trying to remain calm.

"Didn't you want to get to know everyone better? Go on."

"Yeah..." Ted scratched the back of his head, confused, and shifted his attention to the quietest participant.

"By the way, what was your name again? I already forgot."

"Louise," Nick prompted tiredly, massaging the bridge of his nose under his glasses. It was clear he was already getting worn down by his neighbor's hyperactivity.

"I'm from Colombia," Louise spoke very slowly, carefully choosing and pronouncing each English word. It was obvious the language was difficult for her.

"My English isn't very good. It's hard for me to answer quickly, but I understand everything." I nodded to her, deciding to ease the tension a little and support the girl.

"No se preocupe. Yo hablo español," I said with a soft accent.

"Si necesitas ayuda con algo, solo dímelo." Louise practically lit up, her face relaxing.

"Gracias," she smiled sincerely.

"Es muy gentil de su parte."

"Huh? What's that supposed to be? Some kind of code? Secret language?" Ted started turning his head again.

"Seriously, have you ever spent a single day in school?" Mary rolled her eyes at the ceiling once more.

"Tom said in Spanish that he's willing to help her if she has any difficulties." I raised an eyebrow involuntarily. I had not expected my Spanish to come in handy so soon, but even more striking was the fact that Mary had understood every word. That girl clearly had more secrets than all of us combined. Latin roots? Or just a very good education?

"Tom, where'd you learn to talk Spanish like that?" Ted was already looking at me with renewed interest.

"Were you some kind of translator or a teacher at a special school or something?"

"I have nothing to do with those professions," I cut him off, not wanting to go into long explanations.

"Then what were you in normal life?"

"At the moment, I am unemployed," I paused briefly, "but for the past few years I worked as a regular accountant."

"An accountant?!" Ted burst out laughing, slapping his knees.

"Dude, you don't look like one at all! Accountants are supposed to be these hunched, scrawny guys in gray jackets, not someone who looks like he could bust a door open with his head."

"That is what everyone says," I remarked philosophically. At that moment, a translucent system message pulsing with a crimson glow appeared before my eyes. [Attention! You have entered a territory that blocks S-Power] [To restore access to S-Power, leave the blocking zone] I felt a strange, almost physical click in the back of my head. It was as if an invisible lightbulb inside had burned out or a heavy sealed door had slammed shut.

The sensation of inner strength I had only just begun to get used to vanished without a trace, leaving behind nothing but an unpleasant emptiness. We had finally arrived.