My first birthday in this world came and went like a small storm full of joy. A cake with candles that lit themselves without matches, gifts whose functions I didn't understand, and family photos that would become memories. everything felt like a strange but pleasant dream.
But the most memorable thing about that day wasn't the festive celebration or the sparkling gifts.
The most memorable thing was the moment when I first successfully crawled—a small achievement that changed everything.
•••
It happened spontaneously, without planning or special practice. At that time I was lying on the soft living room carpet, staring at a sparkling toy that lay a few meters away. The toy looked like a small crystal cube that emitted gentle light, and for reasons I didn't understand, I felt I had to touch it.
I don't know why that toy already felt like a friend, maybe because it had always been with me since my first birthday.
The urge was so strong, like a magnet pulling my entire body with a force I couldn't resist. I started by rolling, moving in the most familiar way. Left, right, left again, until I almost reached the right position. But the toy was still too far away, still beyond the reach of my tiny hands.
Frustration began building in my chest with surprising intensity. I wanted to scream, "DAMN, THIS BABY BODY IS SO USELESS!" but of course all that came out was a small groan that sounded cute.
But instead of surrendering to helplessness, something inside me rebelled. Maybe it was the remnants of my adult soul refusing to give up, or maybe survival instinct driving physical evolution. I placed both hands on the floor with firm determination, lifted my butt up, and with movements that were clumsy but full of determination, I managed to lift my knees from the floor.
And then, step by wobbly but sure step, I crawled.
CRAWLED!
Finally!
"Seraphina!" Mom screamed from the kitchen in surprise.
But not long after, her voice rose slightly, full of relief and genuine joy.
"Look! She's crawling! Honey, come here quickly! Our daughter is crawling!"
Dad appeared from his office, still holding something that looked like a small communication device in his hand. He quickly put the thing in his pocket and ran over to me with a beaming face.
"My goodness! Daddy's princess is so smart! Daddy is so proud!"
They both immediately knelt on the floor, clapping and cheering with extraordinary enthusiasm, as if I had just broken a world record or done something monumental. Even by the standards of proud parents, their reaction seemed excessive. A cynical thought crossed my mind briefly: as if it wasn't just their daughter who had managed to crawl, but an important experimental subject showing positive results. I quickly dismissed that thought. No, they were just overly happy parents.
But for me, that moment felt like a personal revolution that changed everything.
Freedom.
For the first time since I was born in this world, I could move according to my own will without depending on others. I was no longer trapped in a baby bed or high chair or someone's lap. I could go anywhere I wanted—at least within the radius of the house that was my little world.
And this little world, it turned out, was far more vast and amazing than I had imagined from the limited perspective of a baby who was always carried.
...
The first week after that "crawling breakthrough," I spent time exploring the living room with obsessive detail. This soft carpet actually had intricate patterns I was only seeing now, geometric lines that changed color when hit by light from different angles. Its fibers felt ticklish on my tiny palms. Every corner of the room held small surprises: outlets neatly covered with automatic covers, air vents that emitted gentle aromas like spring flowers, and furniture that felt warmer or cooler than room temperature.
In the following days, my exploration courage grew bigger. The cold marble floor felt surprising on my palms and knees, sending cool vibrations every time I moved. That floor led me to a room with a giant wooden table whose legs towered like pillars, the dining room, I thought. From below, that table looked like a wooden cathedral with fine carvings adorning every inch. Large chairs were neatly arranged, each with a distinctive back design.
The third week brought me to more daring adventures. Following the aroma of Mom's cooking, I arrived in a gleaming room with strange equipment that hummed softly—a kitchen more advanced than any I'd ever seen. From a crawling perspective, this kitchen was like a modern, spotless workspace. A stove that glowed steadily, a refrigerator that made gentle sounds like classical music, and a sink with water so clear it sparkled under the light.
"Seraphina dear, don't get too close to the stove," Mom warned gently while lifting me and placing me in a safer area.
"Mama is cooking Daddy's favorite food."
From my new position, I could see Mom working with very trained and precise movements. She wasn't just cooking—she was like a professional chef mixing ingredients with precise measurements down to the millimeter. Even the way she cut vegetables looked like a ritual practiced thousands of times.
I even wondered if Mom used to work as a chef.
After my observation in the kitchen, my exploration routine continued.
Until one day in the fourth week, I found myself in a corridor I rarely passed through, drawn by a strange sound that would change everything. This corridor had a different aroma... not the flowery scent from the ventilation, but a faint smell of ozone and cold metal, something sterile and foreign.
Bzzt. Bzzt. Krrzzt.
A sound like a radio that couldn't get a clear signal, mixed with electronic sounds that sounded urgent and important. Sometimes there were faint human voices.
That serious and professional radio report sound made my curiosity peak.
Where was it coming from?
My eyes immediately focused on the source: a door that wasn't completely closed. There was a small gap, maybe about two centimeters, enough to peek inside.
With crawling movements that were becoming increasingly skilled and careful, I approached that gap and peeked inside with wide-open eyes.
Holy shit.
That room looked like a military command center straight out of the most advanced sci-fi movie.
Its walls were filled with large monitors displaying area maps with colored dots that blinked like radar, graphs that went up and down like seismographs, diagrams I didn't understand but looked very complex, and rows of numbers that kept changing at high speed.
In the center of the room stood a large round table with a surface that sparkled like glass, but from its surface emerged amazing three-dimensional hologram projections a miniature city complete with buildings, streets, and moving points of light like real-time traffic. Like a CCTV system that could monitor the entire city, only far more advanced.
And in the corner of the room stood an object I immediately recognized from Dad's morning conversations.
The sector monitor.
That thing was a strange combination of an old radio and a device that reminded me of first-generation cell phones from my previous life.
From that radio's speaker came continuous sounds that made me curious.
"Sector 7, normal report. No suspicious activity detected."
"Sector 12, normal report... But still requires further observation."
"Sector 3, routine patrol completed. One individual suspected of illegal entry has been secured. Perpetrator data recorded in database. Still under strict surveillance."
An individual illegally entering the city? Surveillance? Perpetrator database?
I crawled closer to the door gap, trying to listen more clearly even though my heart was beating faster due to a combination of fear and curiosity.
"Central Command to all units. Reminder: stay alert and continue monitoring alien creature activity. All Talent Division personnel must be on full alert. Threat level still at yellow status."
Talent Division!
My heart almost stopped beating. Finally I heard a new term directly related to the "Talent" that my parents always discussed with worried tones. There was a special division that seemed to recruit people with "Talent." And my father, apparently, was part of that division.
I continued listening carefully, trying to absorb every piece of information I could get.
"Unit 23 to Central. We confirm the presence of three suspicious individuals within the Adikara residential radius. Are preventive measures required?"
Adikara? That seemed to be the name of a settlement or administrative area.
"Central to Unit 23. As long as there are no manifestations endangering civilians, continue standard surveillance. Remember non-interference protocol except in emergency situations."
Non-interference protocol. Surveillance. Manifestations endangering civilians.
All those terms rolled around in my head. My adult soul absorbed that information, but my baby brain seemed to buzz in protest, tired of trying to process data that was too complex. There was a faint throbbing in my temples, a reminder that I was still trapped in this fragile body. I tried to understand the bigger picture of this increasingly complex puzzle. It turned out Dad didn't just have "Talent" or special abilities... he was part of an organization that monitored and watched over the city?
But what was most terrifying and made me shiver: if Dad was part of this surveillance system, and he kept worrying about the possibility of me inheriting his "Talent"... did that mean someday I would become a subject being watched? Or would I actually become a member of the organization where my father worked?
Before I could fully process all that shocking information, I heard Dad's familiar footsteps from the corridor direction.
"Honey, I'm going to the kitchen for a moment!"
His voice echoed, making me realize he was done working and would soon pass by me.
Panic immediately ran through my entire body.
If Dad found me here, peeking into his clearly secret workspace...
With hurried crawling movements, I backed away from the door and rushed away as fast as possible. My body scraped against the floor, making sounds that seemed too loud to my own ears.
"Seraphina? Where are you, sweetheart?" Dad's voice got closer.
I crawled in panic toward the living room, trying to look like I was playing with my toys as usual. My heart was pounding like a drum.
But as I almost reached the living room, I heard a sound that made me freeze in place.
"Lena, have you seen Seraphina? I don't see her in the living room," Dad's voice sounded slightly confused.
Lena? That seemed to be Mom's name. This was the first time I'd heard it.
"She was still there earlier," Mom answered from the kitchen. Her voice sounded relaxed but slightly curious. "Maybe she crawled to her room. You know yourself, she's really enjoying going around the house lately."
"Hmm... strange. I just checked, but she wasn't there," Dad mumbled with a worried tone.
But somehow I felt... From Dad's tone of voice, he seemed to be pretending.
Mom laughed softly, teasing with a light tone, "You're just too busy working to pay attention to your own child."
I heard Dad's footsteps walking in a strange pattern, like he was systematically checking every room. His steps sounded more careful and alert than usual.
"Seraphina?" he called again, this time with a tone that was still gentle as usual.
I finally managed to reach the living room and quickly grabbed the crystal cube toy, trying to look like I'd been happily playing since earlier.
"Ah, there you are. You had Daddy worried, you know? You really seem to love exploring." Dad appeared in front of me.
"Playing, are you, Daddy's princess?"
"Buu... bu... gugu..." I mumbled deliberately, trying to sound as natural as possible.
Dad smiled, but his eyes didn't immediately look at me. His gaze swept the floor briefly, stopping right at the corridor where I had just come from, before finally landing on my face.
Noticing Dad's gaze, my heart, which had started to calm down, now began beating twice as fast again.
Did he know?
Dad seemed to notice my expression... laughed softly and lifted me into his embrace. His familiar cologne scent and steady heartbeat should have felt soothing, as usual.
But this time, all I felt was coldness creeping up my spine. I rested my head on his shoulder, staring blankly at the wall. Behind this face full of love, behind this safe embrace, was a man who seemed to work for a secret organization.
To be able to become part of an organization like that, clearly Dad wasn't a simple person. Moreover, he was in the monitoring section that required sharp eyes.
Did... he already know?
If so, how much did he actually know?
Or was I worrying too much?