Poor, that’s what he was. His purchases at the tech market had been fueled by everything he had sold from the scav den. When he reached the metal recycler, he found prices that astounded him. Even though they were recycling metals, the fact that they were among the sole suppliers in the area meant they could dictate prices.

And dictate they did.

The amounts he needed were pretty hefty, and the final tally of what it would cost him reflected that.

In the end, he was left going to the junkyard and hunting for scrap parts. It was better than going through the trash heaps like he had done in the past, at least.

Unfortunately, he had never really given precious metals much consideration before that point. As a result, he didn’t even have anything good to create a scan off of. If he had known the material was so precious, he could have spent his time hunting for it and bringing it to the recyclers for a cut. Sure, it was in the name, but no one actually believed that anymore. Or at least, he hadn’t until he actually tried to buy the metals used in electronics.

Those were the ones that had become truly precious.

By the time he returned to the warehouse hours later, the bed of the truck was piled high, and he was filthy.

The worst of the holes in the roof had been fixed. However, he would need to get more metal before contacting Monroe again.

“Why do you look so angry and depressed?” Deckard inquired as Trace stomped into his apartment, startling him.

“Me? You’re the one without a body,” He shot back angrily.

“I don’t remember ever having one.”

Trace groaned and flopped onto his bed, only to wince and roll off before it could get too dirty. He sat down in the chair he had placed in front of the computer instead. “Money. My problem is always a lack of credits. This time, it just so happens to be exasperated by my own bad choices and your mother.”

“My mother?” The avatar on the screen blinked repeatedly, the eyes growing larger in confusion. “What does she have to do with your money problems?”

***

“Can you bring in that 3D printer with the replacement parts? I would like to take a look at it,” Deckard requested after hearing Trace’s story.

It was clear to the brain-encased young man that Trace needed help learning to manage his money, among other things, but first things first. He might be able to help with the other situation if the new intake module on the 3D printer worked as he hoped it would. His money issues could wait for the moment as they were mainly just a result of Trace never having any before.

Some simple guidance, and time should be enough to sort that matter out. As long as he wasn’t an idiot.

Trace took the chance to clean himself up while he was back out in the warehouse, as the apartment didn’t have a sani-spray setup.

A while later, he had the printer inside and fully set up on the floor. The new pieces, especially the intake module, changed its overall size a fair bit as that one piece was nearly the same size as the entire unit had been previously.

Deckard had been more aware when Trace first returned, but the eyes of his avatar had begun to droop by the time he finished putting everything together.

“Plug it into me, if you would,” He mumbled sleepily.

Trace mentally shrugged and did as he was asked. At least doing all of this had taken his mind off his earlier problems.

“Hmm, yes, this will do nicely. Just have to reprogram a few things…”

He looked at the screen when Deckard didn’t say anything more and saw that he had fallen asleep. Whatever his plan was, it wasn’t getting done that night.

Trace ran through a couple of the enhanced teaching modules and then went to sleep for the night.

The next morning, he finished unloading the bed of the truck and stacking them on the tables outside the apartment. He would start going through them all later. He needed to head to the clinic first. Apparently, Pushman had finally decided his ill-timed nap was over.

He waved to the receptionist as he walked past, trying to remember what Ko had said her name was, and failing. It was only once he was past, that he remembered, there was supposed to be a plaque with her name on the desk, that he had somehow missed yet again.

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With a grunt of disgust, he continued on to the back where he could see Ko and Sevorah standing nearing Pushman’s bed.

“And how are you feeling at the moment?” Sevorah was asking the man.

His reply was slow in coming as he took the time to think the matter over seriously. “Weak, but better than before. What happened?”

“See, I told you he wouldn’t miss those parts we took,” Trace said with a grin as he entered the room.

“Uh, what now? Parts?” Pushman’s addled mind was slow to keep up with the joke and ruined it entirely by not understanding.

“Never mind, it was a poor attempt at humor on his part,” Sevorah said as she glared at Trace. “In answer to your earlier question, you happened. It seems you went to a slicer that barely knew what they were doing.”

Trace stepped up behind Ko and looked over her shoulder as she went through the man’s latest diagnostic readings. She highlighted a few of them and then passed the ink-sheet to Sevorah.

“Well, as a whole, your body is doing better, and it doesn’t look as though you are in any danger of death at the moment. That said, I’m afraid that is the only good news. You’ve reached your limit with stimulants, even the slower-acting ones aren’t viable for you anymore. Until the toxins have been cleared from your system, their effect will either be limited or non-existent.”

“How do I clear the toxins?”

“Time mainly. There are some medicines that are effective, though they are expensive. Interestingly enough, sweat lodges, despite being something so old, have also retained their effectiveness to a degree.” Sevorah moved to the next item on the list, and then the next.

By the time she was finished, Pushman could only quietly lie there, angry tears creeping down his cheeks. His days as an edger were through. Due to the anger he had been feeling at his sister’s death, he had blown his chance of getting revenge on Sekmore Snak-Co.

He had failed her.

Quietly, Sevorah led them out of the room, giving the man time to process his new reality.

“Can’t you give him enough cyberware to put him back in the fight?” Trace asked her softly, as they walked back toward the receptionist, Anna. That was her name, he finally remembered.

“I could, but do you think that man in there has what it takes to remain mentally stable if I start cutting pieces of his body away and swapping them out for cyberware?”

“No,” Ko answered for him. “I’d give him odds for something he couldn’t see, like inside his body. If he could feel it, or see it constantly though, then no.”

“Those are my thoughts exactly. His mental state is simply too unhealthy to risk it.” Sevorah determined as they reached Anna’s desk. “Now then, onto other business. Here is a list of all the parts you brought back the other day. The amount was… staggering. Getting rid of that particular den was a good move. Perhaps, next time, don’t do it solo.” She finished with a heated bite.

He chuckled weakly, taking the ink-sheet from Anna. “Yeah, Ko already tore into me for that one.”

“Good, and now I am reiterating what she most likely told you. What you did was foolish, and you got incredibly lucky. That sort of luck has a bad habit of running out sooner rather than later, and ending up crying on my table with regrets, and that’s only if they still have some luck left in them to even get here. Understand?”

He swallowed hard and nodded.

“Good, now, you still owe a bit on the eyes, but because of the amount this time, it made a rather impressive dent.” She pointed a finger at Anna and then crooked it, beckoning the girl to follow her, as they left Ko with him.

“How are you doing?” He asked, placing the ink-sheet face down on the desk.

“Still a little weirded out from having met Meredith herself. All our lives, she has been this mythical figure, and now we’ve suddenly met her, or at least one of her personalities.” Ko leaned back against the desk and stared at the ceiling. “It still doesn’t feel real, you know?”

“No, it definitely feels real to me. I’ve got the head living in my apartment to prove it. Speaking of which, he woke up again last night.”

Trace spent a few minutes catching her up on everything.

“Hmm, sounds like you are going to need some more titanium shavings. We both will. We’ll also want to start creating this database of cyberware parts for when we do our upgrades. That won’t be a problem for me, but you’ll have to come down here every once in a while and scan the parts we have on hand. You should have done that with everything you brought in the other day.”

“Ugh, yes, I should have. I wish I had thought of it at the time.”

“This issue with the metals is more annoying though. We’ll need to talk about it some more later. I’ll come over after I’m finished up here for the day. We can also talk about how to properly manage money.” She said with a thin grin.

“Right,” He stood up quickly, looking around for Sevorah. “Do you know where they went? Since I was down here, I was hoping I could get Sevorah to crack my neck for me. Ever since I got the new NetConnect installed, it’s been bothering me.”

A flicker of worry crossed her face as she pushed him back down the hallway to Sevorah’s office. Inside, they found the erstwhile mender resting with her head on a desk.

“Sev, do you mind cracking his neck for him? It seems like the new NetConnect is still bothering him.”

Her head shot up; eyes narrowed as they zeroed in on him. “Has this been causing any other issues that I might need to be aware of?”

Trace dithered for several seconds, fighting against himself as he tried to decide on how he wanted to reply. “There might be some anger issues affecting my decision-making abilities.” He admitted eventually.

If he couldn’t admit what was happening to them, then who could he admit it to?

Sevorah sighed. “Be honest with me. Is it because we swapped out a piece of you? How long the previous NetConnect had been a part of you or just general discomfort?”

“That’s easy, discomfort. I don’t think I’ve thought about the other items at all. If I have, they’ve subconscious, and hidden even from me.”

She laughed wryly. “Yes, that is always the danger. It’s the subconscious mind that causes problems for the vast majority of people.” Her fingers tapped away on the desk. “I can certainly crack your neck for you, maybe even do some adjustments. The real issue here is the weakness in your neck. The new model is heavier, and there is no getting around that. As you grew older, you should have gotten your original NetConnect upgraded multiple times. Each time, they would have gotten heavier, and their specs better.”

“So, I went from the one-pound toddler version to what? The ten-pound adult model, without giving my neck time to adjust to the extra weight.” He asked.

“In essence, yes, at the time, I thought I was doing you a favor. Now, I see I obviously wasn’t.”

“No, I do appreciate what you did. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to use these eyes nearly as well as I do.”