After eventually managing to convince Ethan to stop glaring at Silver — a task made much harder when I remembered to give Silver my number — he quickly led me away from Clouds and down into the rest of the city.
Our next destination was a floating city in the middle of an artificial bay called Japantown.
Covered in buildings that never dipped below 500 stories tall and an uncountable number of holographic anime girls, Japantown — at first blush — was seemingly constructed by Americans who had visited Akihabara and nowhere else.
As our taxi started lowering us down to street level, however, I was able to spot numerous callbacks to traditional Japanese architecture in the slope roofs and wooden beams used to construct an enormous variety of bridges, balconies and other structures in the numerous open-air walking spaces spread throughout this portion of the city.
And below all of those structures I spotted what looked like a river of glittering gold.
At ground level — on the roads between skyscrapers — millions of seemingly fluorescent lights illuminated thousands of bars, restaurants, and food stands. Hopping between each service and spending credits like water — an uncountable number of pedestrians in every fashion style imaginable obscured the street itself from view.
This was Golden Gai — or at least Night City’s version of it — and unlike Clouds’s focus on otherworldly and surreal experiences this place was all about eating good food, meeting new people, and getting blackout drunk. Of course as our second destination of the night we were more interested in the first two options but that’s besides the point.
When our taxi reaches the 3rd or 4th floor it stops its descent and turns into a nearby skyscraper where there is a long corridor stretching from one side of the building to the other. Once we pass about a quarter of the way through the building our taxi pulls to the side and lets us off.
The terminal itself is a massive vaulted palace constructed entirely out of wood with dozens of elevators on the far wall.
In between those elevators, however, are a variety of small bars — none of which have a seating area — each serving only a small set of items, but — when taken as a whole — the entrance to Golden Gai alone had more variety in both drink and food than all of Clouds.
After we both grab some sake and Yakitori — skewers of grilled chicken and green onion — Ethan turns to me and half-asks half-states “explore, I assume?” while raising one eyebrow.
In response I quickly finish off the rest of my skewer in one bite and chirp out a “yep!” before rushing off to the closest elevator.
When we reach the ground floor and the doors open, however, the walls of the tunnel I find myself in are not covered in bars and restaurants — although there are a few of those — but instead a variety of electronic and anime-merch stores.
Behind me Ethan starts laughing at my shock as we slowly walk into the dimly lit corridor, and when I turn to him with confusion likely written across my face in bold text he begins explaining. “In these spots underneath the skyscrapers, instead of selling beer and food and stuff they sell merch and electronic components.
“In fact, I’m pretty sure there are also quite a few ripperdocs down here, but they tend to sell — quote un-quote — ‘retro’ augments so I wouldn’t recommend visiting them unless you’re looking for something specific. But the rest of the stores here are pretty cool so we can check them out.”
Suitably intrigued by his explanation, I waste not a second more on stunned silence and quickly rush off to the nearest shop to investigate.
Inside I find dozens of bargain bins full of various wires, lights, motherboards and other electronic components. In fact I’d bet you could build a pretty damn high end computer out of just these parts.
But what really catches my attention are the wide variety of cyberware hung up on all three of the store’s walls.
Ranging from cannon arms to laser eyes — or even a hundred odd parts humans don’t have naturally — the components on sale here are once again diverse and high quality enough to construct an entire autonomous droid, despite the fact that nearly everything here is in some way dismantled.
In fact even the ceiling is covered in cybernetic components — although the criteria for what goes up there seems to be quite simply: can I have sex with it? (and that does include tentacles).
Unfortunately there’s nothing in that shop I could use any time soon, so I quickly make my way out and to the next one where I am presented with an uncountable number of anime figures.
Contained within glass boxes stacked up to the ceiling along every wall and in as many pillars as they could fit; the figurines being sold here almost certainly encompass every single show ever made. And to the absolute displeasure of the OCD goblin in my brain there is seemingly no methodology in their sorting — or if there is one it’s made by someone who has reached the end of the neurodivergent spectrum — but despite its protestations the random dispersal of shows and themes adds an eclectic whimsy to the shop that I absolutely adore.
Wandering the store for a couple minutes I eventually find a figure that I have to buy.
Situated at head height, towards the back of one of the boxes in the middle of the store is a figure of Juri from Yu Yu Hakusho in a sailor uniform. With stars in my eyes I start looking for a way to purchase it only to hear a snort from behind me.
Turning around I find Ethan barely holding back his laughter.
Fixing him with a death glare I ask — in the most serious voice I can manage — “how do you buy something here?” which prompts yet another snort and a chuckle as he tries to calm himself down.
After finally making room for words in his larynx Ethan squeezes out “Just *pfft* just write… what you want on that card,” he points to a stack of rip off cards glued to just below the center box “and then bring it up to the register at the front of the store.”
Begrudgingly following his instructions I rip off the top card and note down the code in front of the figure that I wan- am obligated to buy, before heading up to the front and handing it to the person working there. They swiftly walk over to the cabinet grab the figure and carefully place it into a bag before heading back to the front and ringing me up.
After politely convincing Ethan to pay the completely fair and justified price, I don’t squeal and rush out of the store to show it off to the world, before we head to the next store.
Unfortunately every other store is just some variation or combination of the last two and as such I don’t spend nearly as much time browsing their contents — although I enjoy every second I spend here.
One store — for example — sells figures that are, exclusively, still in the box, while another sells cybernetics and electronics straight from the factory. One sells nothing but Gundam — whether functional or otherwise — and another sells cat girl figurines and augmentations.
Additionally, far too many stores sell sex stuff. While almost every other store is at least somewhat unique, there are at least a dozen that sell exclusively sex related products — meaning evocative figurines and pillows and performance enhancing cybernetics — and after the ninth one I walked into without noticing what it sells I decided it was time to go back to drinking.
Unfortunately Ethan first had to deposit all the bags I had handed him into a delivery drone that would take them home but that only delayed us a minute or so.
After making our way onto the street I am temporarily blinded by the utterly ubiquitous lights that work together to shine brighter than the sun.
When my vision clears, however, I am presented with a crowd entirely distinct from the one at Clouds.
While the clientele of Clouds was chaotic and disorderly — clumping up and spreading out, yelling and whispering, seemingly at random — Golden Gai had an almost river-like flow to it.
Everyone was moving between food stands and bars in a consistent direction and at an unfathomable rhythm and the disparity between the movement of individuals allowed for a constant stream of new faces to talk to but no chance to form a lengthier connection than what can be drawn out of one beer or meal.
And when I joined the flow myself it felt all but natural to find my own rhythm — even while making sure to stay with Ethan — which allowed me to take part in a wonderful marathon of new faces, new conversations, and new meals.
Each person had a unique and interesting story to tell.
Whether it was their time serving in the Australian military in WWII, a difficult dungeon they beat on another island, their incredibly frustrating boss at work, a secret laboratory they found they found at the bottom of a nearby lake, or a cool gift their boyfriend got them for their birthday, everyone had a story to tell.
To add to the good company, though, was good food. Yakitori, Karaage, Takoyaki, Gyoza, and Nabe were everywhere and always delicious.
In contrast, the drinks were just as delicious and far less varied. At every stand either Sake or Beer was on offer and yet there was never much new available, but considering that they were there to bring you into a drunken stupor that enhanced everything else, they did their job just fine.
At moments when I needed a rest I was additionally able to take sanctuary in the dark corridors under every couple skyscrapers and spend my time looking at the various trinkets being sold.
At one point I even came across a ripperdoc and — seizing the opportunity — headed in to see what exactly my brother meant by ‘retro’.
The answer became quickly apparent, however, when I gained access to their catalogue.
Instead of the typical cybernetic blueprints made from ‘handwaveium’ and ‘bullshitus’ these were designed to be as close to realistic as possible. This — of course — meant that they underperformed their competitors in nearly every department, but — shockingly — there were certain narrow applications of specific augments that could allow for better performance.
For example, while typical wrist mounted Monowire had far more cutting potential, the Monowire sold here allowed for much, much better fine control while still being fully capable of cutting through skin, flesh, and bones. Additionally, a specific set of arms allowed for quite a bit more force when bending the elbow along one specific axis, in exchange for the strength and dexterity of the limbs in all other situations. And a certain subdermal enhancement would allow for almost total electrical immunity in exchange for your flexibility and weakened impact resilience in a couple places.
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Overall there wasn’t anything that jumped out at me, but I thought it important enough to take note of.
Eventually, however, when I looked up into the sky I noticed that through the gaps of the various skyscrapers I could see a blue strip indicative of day.
Looking over at Ethan in surprise — and quickly nudging him out of his conversation — I asked in a hissed whisper “it’s already day?!”
Looking up himself, Ethan’s eyes widen slightly in surprise when he sees the blue sky as well and he quickly grabs my arm and hurries us away to the nearest taxi terminal.
On the way I make sure to ask “how long have we been doing this for?” and in response Ethan checks his PI to find the time.
“26 hours, we got here at 6:40 am yesterday and it’s now 8:50 am.”
34 hours left, huh?
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This time when we get into the taxi it takes us to a residential block at the very edge of the central district.
As usual I make sure to ask Ethan where we’re going this time while on our way over, but unlike the last two times we are not going to a bar.
“We’re heading to my apartment. After drinking for 26 hours straight you need to get some rest, this island is boosting your alcohol tolerance and stamina but there’s barely anything it can do for your mental exhaustion.
“Plus, you had a full day of school before this. Frankly the only reason you’re still moving is probably because of how excited about everything you are.”
Unfortunately for him, after drinking for so long all inhibitions built up by my 17 years of maturing were thrown out the window. So I had no shame in whining “but I have only 34 hours left before I have to go back!”
But fortunately for me, my big brother was more than prepared for some brattiness from his little sister, saying “I know, but you need to rest now or you’ll lose even more time later,” with a warm smile.
And at that, I had no response, so when we got to his building I didn’t offer any resistance as he guided me to his apartment and onto his bed.
And as a testament to how right he was, the second I was laying down on his soft mattress I was out like a light.
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When I woke up I had only a moment of full consciousness before my brain informed me that a steamroller had made multiple passes over my frontal cortex while I was asleep.
In response my body semi-automatically curled into a ball and raised its arms over my head. Unfortunately I had yet to fully adapt to my inhuman features and I accidently smacked my horns in the process. The jarring impact on my skull this evoked ripped a visceral groan from my lips as the pain I had been experiencing increased tenfold.
The sound of my regret echoing through the one room domicile then exacerbated my already extreme pain with a severe ringing in my ears while simultaneously awakening Ethan on the couch, across the room.
As my brother repeated my experience of waking up with a severe hangover his groans of regret maintained the sorry state of my mind, keeping me on the bed.
Seemingly experiencing far less severe repercussions, Ethan was able to get up and make his way to the small kitchenette on the wall next to the entrance within mere minutes of awakening. After pouring himself something to drink — likely water — he made his way over to the bed and sat down.
Once I noticed he was attempting to pass me a drink as well, I blearily opened my eyes to try and take it only to be reward with a shot of pain straight through my skull, as the low light from numerous invisible adverts is finally given access to my frayed occipital lobe.
Taking a few moments to work my way up to ‘barely enough light to see by’, I am eventually able to locate my prospective hangover cure and take a few sips.
I — tragically — do not have the energy to spit out whatever I just ingested, allowing the vile concoction far more time with my tongue than I would prefer. It does provide me with the boost I need to yell at Ethan mere moments later, but before I can spew every obscenity I know at my dipshit of a brother, he preempts me with an explanation.
“It’s a hangover cure. I know it tastes like blobfish cartilage mixed with rotten, fertilized eggs but it’ll help. Trust me.”
I am begrudgingly forced to accept this explanation as I can already feel the sharp ache bouncing around in my skull dispersing, allowing me to think clearly for the first time in many hours.
And yet I still struggle to process everything that has happened.
While it has been more than a day — at least in perceived time — since my forced revelation in that dressing room, most of that time was spent in an alcohol induced haze and experiencing countless new and incredible things.
Which means I’ve had no time to just process what my new reality means for me, my future, and the people around me. And quite frankly I don’t really want to have that time.
Even while panicking in those first few moments I knew how much worse my life is going to be now. I’ve been exposed to enough trans content and information through Ethan and my own research into what my brother has been experiencing to know exactly what’s gonna happen from now on, and it’s depressing just to think about.
While recent medical advancements by the same company that created full dive VR have made gender affirming care cheaper, more accessible, and more effective — hell HRT is now obsolete — it’s still nowhere near as effective as what I would want. And that’s not even considering how far behind reality the legislature and public opinion is.
It’s no wonder really that so many people spend all of their time in VR.
Hell, Ethan is entirely satisfied with his IRL body and even he barely ever spends time in non-virtual reality.
But all of that is really future me’s problem.
I still have… Oh Shit Only 22 Hours Left!
Quickly turning to Ethan — those hangover cures are fucking magic considering I went from dying to fine in just 5 minutes — I impatiently ask “What next?!”
Seemingly caught off guard by my sudden question, it takes Ethan a few stunned seconds to respond. “We’ll be heading to a bar in Newbai called The New Age Saloon.”
“Newbai?”
“Yeah. Like, New Dubai… Newbai.”
“That’s a stupid name.”
Ethan just shrugs, saying “tell that to the UAE government. They’re the ones who paid for the thing.”
“The United Arab Emirates paid for a city on this island? Why?”
“I don’t know. Advertising probably. Considering all the bullshit they build in real life, this is hardly out of the norm for them.”
Well I suppose that’s probably fair. Although I haven’t heard all that much about the UAE, considering that what I have heard about is stuff like those stupid artificial islands in the shape of the world, I doubt paying for a digital city was all that big of a deal for them.
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20 minutes later and I finally got my first glance at Newbai.
Although I’m pretty sure I could have seen it from where we entered the city yesterday, it’s only once we’re within a few minutes of the city and Ethan points it out to me that I realise just what I’m looking at.
Separating the northernmost quarter of Night City from everything else, is a mile high wall.
While the structure is surely impressive during the day, with the sun down — like now — and all sources of light coming from Night City itself, the mirror-like surface of the wall makes it nearly invisible from a distance.
But don’t get confused, Newbai is not on the other side of the wall. Newbai is the wall.
At half mile wide and an uncountable number of miles in length, Newbai is one the most bizarre cities imaginable.
With a thriving and — quite frankly — utopian city in the uppermost layers, it’s almost impossible to imagine that the closer you get to ground level, the more ubiquitous crime and violence become.
While violent acts are a constant throughout the rest of Night City, those are more of a vocal minority elsewhere. You can see criminals running rampant at all times, but that’s more because they’re not trying to be discreet about it.
In Newbai the formula is flipped. It’s very rare to see crime taking place here — even at the lowest levels — but that’s only because the criminals here stick to the shadows.
And I mean that quite literally. As our taxi lowers itself into the city I’m presented with an almost exact opposite of Golden Gai.
Where Golden Gai coated nearly every surface in the brightest lights they could find, the residents of lower Newbai acted as if they were allergic to light itself.
The effect this created was such that it felt more like we were in a submarine — diving into the Mariana Trench — rather than a flying taxi heading to a cool bar.
After passing a certain depth, however, there was a steady shift as more and more dim, neon lights were revealed to have been hiding under overhangs and balconies. Like a bloom of jellyfish lighting up the ocean depths, what previously appeared to be a foreboding abyss, rapidly transformed into one of the most ethereal and gorgeous places I’d ever been.
Although no individual light was all that beautiful, the overall effect reminded me of the graffiti I had seen outside Dr. Olivar’s office. Over the course of generations the residents of this location had transformed their home into a human wonder, despite their poor circumstances.
Tragically, my time to admire the scenery was cut short when we arrived at a balcony only 3 or 4 floors above ground level. Hanging above the one door we had easy access to was a large neon sign reading “The NAS” where each letter was an entirely different font.
Upon entering our destination for the night I’m immediately hit by the stark difference between it and the last two locals we visited.
Compared to Golden Gai or Clouds, The NAS is practically baren, as far as clientele goes. There’s a relatively quiet beat playing in the background — just enough to obscure nearby conversation, but not enough to make speaking difficult — and as we enter I accidentally step on a squeaky floorboard — although nobody pays the sound any mind.
The bar itself seems to be the love child of 70s diner and RGB gamer aesthetics, as the teal, laminar walls and checkerboard tiled floor — which for some reason extends everywhere but the entrance — are supplemented by an overabundance of LED strip lights in every nook and cranny that fail to light the space any brighter than the neon signs did outside.
Structurally, The NAS is a mess of a dozen different levels all on the same floor and various alcoves filled with cushioned seating and tables. Strangely, however, there were also numerous random elliptical structures jutting out of any open spot on the walls, floor, or ceiling.
In fact, the bar itself is just one massive ellipse in the middle of the room. Surrounding it are a number of stools and behind it is a large pillar with storage for a wide variety of different alcohols.
Working the section closest to us was a middle eastern woman with wavy, black hair cascading past her shoulders, glowing, golden eyes, and a single, white lily resting just above her left temple. Her face has a gentle feeling to it, that is only disrupted by the white skull earrings hanging from her pointed ears and the golden stud piercing her tongue.
She’s wearing a red halter top bikini and sarong with golden flower detailing covering them. But more than anything else, what draws the eye are the two stark-white, feathered wings sprouting from her back, emanating a golden radiance from between the individual feathers.
After we take our seats in front of her she cheerily asks “What can I get for you?” while smiling and leaning over the bar.
Going for the tried and true “I’ll take whatever you served last,” I’m offered a bottle of cheap, mass-produced beer that has been covered in abstract graffiti that seemingly depicts an Aurora Borealis — although that might just be me.
The bottle doesn’t taste like anything particularly special, but I suppose it’ll have to do as my first drink.
Turning to Ethan I ask “so what are we doing here? This doesn’t feel like the kind of place you go to unless you already have connections.”
After taking a sip of his drink he answers, “that’s only true if you're sitting in the booths. Down here at the bar people will come up to talk to you pretty frequently.”
At that the barista chimes in, “and if nothing else you can always talk to me,” while smiling cheekily.
Deciding that I may as well since nobody else is around I begin with the standard, “well then what’s your name?”
“My Islands username is GoldenRadiance but you can just call me Radia. And you?”
“Aquela, but you can call me Ella.”
“Well Ella, is today your first day in Night City?”
“Technically I think this is my third, but I’ve just been hopping between bars so I don’t know if that really counts.”
“Oh sure it does! In fact, I’d bet some people would argue you’re not actually in Night City unless you’re at a bar.”
“Well, then how long have you been in Night City?”
“Ohh… I think it might even have been a year now, but…”
And so, for the next hour I had conversations that followed that general trend. Introduce yourself, talk about your experiences in Night City, and then start genuinely getting to know each other.
Unfortunately this meant that not many were all that willing to talk to me, but it was still a fun time, just hearing about all these experiences people have had.
For example there was this one bipedal fox guy who talked about a time when he and his crew had to fight massive spider robots that shot lasers the size of a house that would annihilate everything in their path.
Someone else spoke about a time when they retrofitted a jet into a makeshift explosive in order to take down a mech. That then prompted someone else to chime in with a time they dropped a fusion bomb on a swarm of plant-based bio-weapons.
And at moments when I didn’t have anyone else to talk to I could always talk to Radia.
Turns out, she’s a pretty damn good netrunner who’s pulled off numerous big hacks in her time. In fact, just recently she gained access to the data servers of some company called “Virtual Labs” and found a bunch of files on new experimental tech.
They, apparently, have shit like a wetware enhancement that would allow you to take advantage of the unique abilities of your avatar — so if I got it I’d be able to breath underwater or something — as well as a super advance exoskeleton with such a small form factor it’s practically skin-tight.
There were tons of other things too, a handheld railgun, automated sniper turrets capable of shooting over the horizon, a vest that can absorb all of the energy in most mass-driver rounds that hit it and convert that energy into electrical energy for your use, a jetpack capable of breaking Mach-10 while preventing even a slight breeze from hitting the user’s face, and an honest to god Lightsaber.
But the most interesting thing was this super secure piece of software that Radia could barely find anything on.
She believes it to be some sort of malware, considering some of the sparse details she could access, but seeing as specifics were so lacking it was clearly something big.
And as impressive as all of that was, it did prompt a pretty important question from me.
“If you’re so good at hacking and stuff, why do you work at a bar?”
“Oh, Ella, Ella, Ella. How do you think I know what to look for? I have this job so I can listen in on our customers and figure out what’s out there for me to find. Plus my work here has gotten me tons of jobs in the past.
“In fact a couple months ago there was this mob boss that needed me to find some dirt on this politician. Man! That was an interesting one. Turns out they were having sex nearly every weekend with each other behind their wives backs, and the politician guy started to get antsy. He basically realized that if it ever came to light that he was both gay and fucking a major crime lord his political career would be over. So this mob boss dude comes to me and pays an obscene amount for me to dig up some dirt that’ll end the politicians career without exposing their relationship.
“So I find it, and Mr. Mob Boss sells it — for way more money than I was being paid — to the politician’s competitor. Well I’m not gonna let him just rip me off like that. So I sell the stuff I found on their relationship to the politician’s competitor too which not only made the politician super mad at the mob boss it also pissed off Mrs. Mob Boss. And all of these personal issues piled up until he couldn’t handle them and his criminal empire, and now he works here in the kitchen.”
And that’s pretty much how my night went.
I met some interesting people and heard some wild stories in between Radia telling me about even more interesting people and even wilder stories.