After making his declaration Ethan starts looking off into space — seemingly accessing an interface separate from the Islands one — as he says “Now. First order of business is getting you some implants. You probably only need cerebral and ocular implants for now so let’s stick to just that and we can get you anything else you want later.”
“Alright, sounds good, lead the way.”
“Hold your horses. I’m getting us a taxi real quick; should be here in 38 seconds.”
“That’s an oddly specific amount of time.”
Ethan just shrugs, explaining “Every car in this city is self driving; allows for some super precise traffic estimates.”
And sure enough, exactly 38 seconds — yes I timed it — after Ethan ordered the taxi a garishly yellow car covered in dozens of ads flew in and landed right in front of us, despite the fact we were in the middle of a large plaza.
Looking around however, I could see that this wasn’t an event unique to us. Tons of cars in various annoyingly bright colors and coated in a layer of holographic ads were picking up passengers all throughout the plaza.
And as cyberpunk is wont to do even here I could see class disparity. While most of the taxis were hovering boxes — with sharp corners and everything — quite a few had a more classical “car” look. One was even pure black in color, completely devoid of any ads covering it, and shaped like an IRL Ferrari — with rubber tires and everything — and just as a further fuck you to us poors it never actually landed; instead deploying a ramp that didn’t touch the ground either so that its posh owner could climb aboard.
Next to me Ethan noticed what I was looking at and whistled, commenting “Now that’s a nice car, wish I could afford something like that.”
“How do you even get money here?”
In response he just shrugged, saying “Crime, mostly. You can start a legitimate business and make money that way but not many people are willing to work a real job for digital money.
“Regardless, let's get moving; this taxi is already costing me creds.”
As he hurries me along I finally get a look into our ride and find it — unsurprisingly — filled with yet more ads.
“Is there anything in this city that isn’t covered in ads or is that just gonna be a constant here?”
“Oh right, forgot about those. Don’t worry though once you get your implants you can download an adblocker so all those holograms turn invisible.”
“I’m surprised those are legal here.”
After hearing what I said Ethan barks out a laugh and explains “They aren’t but there’s not much the corps can do to stop you. Cybersecurity will always be behind malware so long as you know where to look.”
As I continue asking questions about the inner workings of Night City our taxi flies us into the city and after a couple of minutes drops us off on top of a building in the middle of a concrete wasteland with more area occupied by trash than actual ground. In fact now that I’m looking at it I think the spots I thought were ground were just areas where the junk had been pressed flat.
Turning to Ethan I ask “What the hell is this?”
Answering with a shrug and “The slums,” Ethan then turns and walks towards a nearby door leading into the building we’re standing on, calling back “don’t worry about it too much. We won’t ever be heading down to street level if I have anything to say about it.”
Following him in the hopes of getting away from the smell of rot, shit, and mold wafting up from the streets below I find myself in a stairwell covered in some genuinely impressive looking graffiti. In fact I don’t think there’s a single ounce of spray paint on these walls that isn’t part of an artistically inspired design.
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Seeing this I’m forced to ask “Why the hell does the graffiti here look so damn good?”
Looking around as if seeing it for the first time Ethan responds with some uncertainty, saying “Huh, well I suppose when a gallon of spray paint costs as much as a single meal and you have nothing else to do you get pretty good at art.”
Unfortunately after descending only two floors we arrive at our destination and I’m forced to leave the gallery of street art behind to enter a shockingly well decorated office space.
As the door opens a blast of cool air keeps the smell outside and forces me to rapidly blink my eyes to moisten them again.
When I can finally see clearly what I find is something seemingly out of a different world. Underneath my feet is a dark blue — almost black — carpet almost as hard as the concrete underneath it and covered in dull red and yellow specks like the plainest night sky imaginable. The walls are painted a plain white and textured with numerous small bumps and the ceiling is made out of white polystyrene ceiling tiles covered in black dots.
More than anything else, however, what shocks me the most is the almost supernatural cleanliness of the space. No matter where I look I can’t find a single speck of dust and the reason for that seems to be the 4 foot tall robot dusting the coffee table in front of us.
To both sides of the table are couches lacking stains entirely and opposite us is a counter manned by a woman who is probably more Botox than flesh at this point — although despite her clearly artificial appearance she is undeniably beautiful.
As I’m recovering from the whiplash of walking into a germaphobe’s dream from grunge central Ethan walks up to the receptionist and asks to see “Dr. Olivar” and is immediately motioned to enter a door to our left.
Checking behind him only to find me still reeling, Ethan smirks and gestures for me to follow him. Luckily this finally breaks me out of my stupor and I quickly move to catch up.
The next room is almost the exact same as the first in style but with a now tiled floor. Ringing the room are dozens of cabinets made of almost certainly synthetic wood and a large countertop; sitting in the center of the room is a large chair surrounded by a half-dozen clamps and machines presumably used for installing cyberware.
As we enter, a door on the opposite side of the room opens revealing someone I assume to be Dr. Olivar. He is an average looking man — short, black hair, brown eyes, a sharp jawline dulled by a small amount of fat and 6 feet tall — wearing a black suit with a white undershirt and black tie, black suit pants reaching down to recently-shined, formal, black shoes. Overall it’s fairly clear that he is the reason this office is the way it is despite the state of the space right outside his door.
When he opens his mouth a deep rumble escapes rattling my bones and it is only after Ethan responds that I realize the doctor is — in fact — speaking.
“Nice to see you too, Olivar, I’m just here to get my little sister some implants.”
“Hmm well then, I assume you’re going to want the highest quality you can afford, in which case I believe I have just the thing.” After saying that he turns around and heads back into the room he came from.
Seeing the opportunity I lean over and whisper into Ethan’s ear “What’s up with his voice?”
In response he chuckles and says — much louder than I’m comfortable with — “No idea. When I asked him he just said he liked it this way and he doesn’t have a mechanical voice box so…” At which point Ethan just shrugs and turns back to staring at the door.
After staring at him for a couple seconds I finally worked up the courage to ask “You okay? You’ve been kinda quiet ever since we got here.”
At that he turns to look at me in surprise for a moment before sighing and rubbing his neck while saying “Yeah, sorry. I just forgot how much I hate this place.”
“You hate this place? Why?”
“I mean… I told you how I come to this island to get my mind off the real world right?” After seeing me nod he continues — “well it’s kinda hard to do that when you’re slapped in the face with economic disparity you know?
“Like I know that it’s just a simulation — I know it’s just set dressing — but it’s just kinda hard to maintain my enthusiasm while I’m here.”
At that I can’t help but feel ashamed. I didn’t think about the people living here even once, hell when I was looking at the graffiti outside all I saw was the artistry while Ethan saw the artist.
Unfortunately before I could reassure him Olivar returned carrying a couple of hard plastic boxes — presumably containing my new implants.
“Now then, what I have got for you here is the latest Arasaka implants, the Akatsuki 7 6400X 32 core cerebral implant and the Kosai EOS Tyrant 32k ocular implants. These should be all you’ll ever need but its price will reflect that — as I am sure you are aware.”
Without even asking the price Ethan waves me towards the chair and under the encouraging — yet reserved — smile of Dr. Olivar I walk forward and take a seat.
As I scoot all the way back I notice that while there is a convenient hole for my tail to slot through there is unfortunately not the same for the fins on my legs, which forces me to turn my feet inward at an awkward angle.
‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not going to get annoying at all.’ Luckily my discomfort didn’t seem to phase Olivar as he quickly and efficiently moved the required equipment into position before loading my new implants onto the small robotic arms he’ll presumably be operating during this operation.
“Now then this should not take very long at all; however, many find the sensation of experiencing a surgery while conscious — even with numbing agents — to be quite uncomfortable so if you would like I can put you under for the duration of this procedure.”
Hearing that I immediately look to Ethan for advice and he responds with a small nod so I repeat the motion only to notice that my eyes are closed.
When I open them I’m shocked to find both Olivar and Ethan in different positions than before with Olivar moving the machinery away from the chair and Ethan sitting on the counter watching me carefully.
Unfortunately it seems that this was one shock too many for my brain and all I manage to get it is a short “bWha?” before I can speak no more.
Luckily Ethan seems to understand what I’m thinking from just that derpy sound and quickly explains “I know it can be pretty shocking the first couple times but that was what the sleeping drugs here are like. Ah but — don’t worry — the drugs should be wearing off shortly.”
Just like he said, by the time he was done talking I was already feeling much better and I was actually able to form proper sentences. “So am I now ready to join the party that never ends?”
Recognizing my reference to his earlier monologue Ethan grins and says “You bet. Here let’s hit my favorite bar first. Start off strong and we’ll actually get to experience it while sober.”
“Sounds like a plan.”