Sometimes, I can't help musing about how abandoning my home, life and everything I ever loved and knew to build a new life was absolutely worth it.
Sure, losing friends, family and becoming unmoored from my place in reality sucked. But you know what also sucked? Dying.
And now… well, logic still dictated that I'd cease to be someday. What comes up, comes down. What begins, ends. I was born, and therefore one day I'd die. But if I played my cards right, that wouldn't be for millennia, maybe more. Not bad for a jumped-up ape who used to have a century at best ahead of him.
That being said, I still cared about my creature comforts. The ecological catastrophes affecting the Earth, along with changes in history, meant that a good deal of the foods I enjoyed simply weren't accessible to me. At least, not at a reasonable price. Meals like actual steak and non-insect based pepperoni pizza simply weren't affordable, and recipes native to my home like Coca-cola simply didn't exist here.
Of course, that didn't stop me from looking for substitutes.
As I entered my motel room, I tossed my mostly empty duffle bag to the side. I kept the thing on me pretty much to serve as a prop, only used as an excuse for where I kept all my belongings. An orange [Inventory] window formed in front of me and I reached in, pulling out a feel-good snack I'd discovered.
A packet of RaMMMMen noodles was worth a single Eurodollar, well within my price range. I pulled it open and tugged out the seasoning packet. In order to prepare it, I'd tear open and pour the seasoning into the packet, crush the uncooked noodles into chunks and shake it up, mixing the contents together. And just like that, I had a tasty snack to indulge in for the next few minutes.
It reminded me of a childhood treat from back home. As well as a childhood which was, now that I thought about it, not all too different from my current surroundings. Besides all the murder, most things seemed quite similar. The slow decay of morals in the highest political spheres. The downplaying and lack of care for the poor and desperate. The blend of eastern and western influences. In a funny way, it made me feel nostalgic.
I'd moved away from the country of my birth as the government grew more and more objectionable, and though the cities I'd moved to were still urban, they just didn't feel the same. The stink, the wearing, and the continuous urban development that in hindsight seemed to be meant to patch growing holes rather than to truly expand urban centers just wasn't there. But now I was right back where I started, in a sense.
Plus some extras, of course. I pressed my fingers to my forehead, and willed my mana to take shape in the form of miniature, hollow spheres that I flattened with a flex of willpower. Then I made another, forcing it through the same process, before slowly moving them into the packet, the constructs trembling as I fought to keep my focus steady.
[Mana Barrier] simply wasn't meant for this kind of fine manipulation. It was meant to appear, hold in place, and disappear when the job was done. Sometimes, holding in place meant following me around when I moved, but otherwise they tended to be immobile. Using them in this way was not unlike trying to use a pair of dumbbells like chopsticks. But I enjoyed doing it nonetheless. A part of me was hoping that with enough practice, I could develop a sort of magical telekinesis.
Skill-grinding aside, I could do this much more easily with [Sorairo Days], or with my bare hands, but I wanted to eat like a fucking wizard, and what I did in the privacy of my motel room was my own business.
It was a bit like playing a crane game. The first few tries were too weak to hold anything properly, but the third managed to pinch a chunk of RaMMMMen between the two disk-shaped constructs. I carefully pulled it out of the bag and opened my mouth, raising the snack over my head before I let it fall into my waiting mouth.
Dried chunks of ramen covered with delicious, delicious MSG powder crunched between my teeth, and a blend of salty, umami flavors delighted my tongue as I chewed them into paste. I was pretty sure that the lack of food poisoning notices from [Sorairo Days] was more to do with it being mostly devoid of nutritional value of any sort than anything else. Well, that and the fact that a single packet of dried ramen was going to fuck with my cholesterol that badly.
If I wasn't going to die from lack of nutrients or lose my shape, why not indulge in magic-aided gluttony a little?
…Well, maybe I shouldn't indulge in what was literally a sin too much, but then again, I was still at my core a wuss and a hedonist. Yeah, I wasn't making my way past the pearly gates by the end of this, not if I wanted to live the life I wanted, especially considering the bloody means I planned to obtain it with.
I pushed my mental constructs back into the packet and began withdrawing another chunk of dried ramen from the bag, but a buzz on my agent shattered my focus, causing me to drop the chunk of ramen on my pants. I briefly considered whether or not I'd washed all of the blood splatters out of them, before promptly deciding that it didn't matter and tossing it into my mouth with my hand.
I glanced at the caller ID as I chewed, noting that it was an unknown number. Had Regina sent out my details already? I swallowed the small bite and took the call. "Razzle here."
The animated portrait that flicked up in the corner of my vision would have caused me to start in surprise, if I still reacted to things like I used to. I wasn't sure who I expected, but it most certainly wasn't one of the four men in the world I wanted dead and buried.
A man with a gold-plated nose and chip grinned at me. He had gold studs and earrings that glinted like his smile, painting a picture of a man that oozed with wealth and confidence. JK, a 'celebrity' XBD editor, and the bait I'd need to catch the bigger fish. "Ah, just the man I was looking for!" He announced.
Instantly, alarm bells began blaring in my head. Why the hell would an XBD editor, especially one as wealthy as him, be looking for me? I hadn't done much to get on anyone's radar, had I? I racked my brain, but all I could think of was killing Maelstrom and Scavengers. The Scav's organizational structure didn't lend to sharing intel between members, so… was it the culling of Maelstrom that caught his attention?
Well, nothing to it. I'd worm my way into his trust first, and then remove him from the equation. "So, who do you want dead?" I asked, setting the packet of ramen noodles aside.
There was a chortle. "Eager, aren't we?" His grin widened as he gave a dismissive wave of the hand. "But I'm afraid that the details will have to wait. I'd like a face-to-face interview first. Then we can get down to business."
I could do an interview. Hell, if it was a private enough venue, I could just gank him then and there, and use him as bait for the one I actually needed gone. "Where are you thinking?"
"I was considering a meal at Embers." His headshot leaned back, relaxing. "Doesn't that sound just swell?" There was something peculiar about his mannerisms, and it took me a moment to put it together. He was being way too friendly, especially considering the difference in our status, and our lack of history.
But I could handle that. Hell, I even felt behooved to be polite right back, even though I planned on using the guy. "Embers… Never heard of it before. Gimme a sec." I hopped on the local net with my agent, searching for the word until I found an address. "The one in Heywood?"
"The very same. What time would you be available?" He said as he leaned his head on his hands.
"I'm pretty much entirely free." I admitted. Most of my meet-ups were ad-hoc affairs, finding a spare moment with either Rebecca or David to shoot the shit at some place or another, and if I didn't have a job, my days were pretty much entirely filled with me trying to find new, interesting books or training my skills in the privacy of my motel.
As it turned out, there was a great deal of what I'd classify as "reverse isekai" fantasy novels being published in America. Lots of elves, dwarves, dragons and such being summoned to America by unexplained means. There was probably a socio-psychological explanation for the genre's prevalence, but I just found the flip hilarious.
"So you'd be available for dinner today, then?" The headshot leaned forwards, likely mirroring reality. The man wasn't even trying to hide his eagerness, and it honestly weirded me out a little.
"Sure." I said with a shrug, shoving my unease down and glancing the webpage over. Embers seemed like a high-class place. Sure, it'd be ground that he picked, but it seemed to me that the location would be hard to rig for an ambush. It's harder to bribe a place to fill it with your hired muscle if it'd make plenty of cash just operating normally.
"Excellent. I'll be seeing you tonight, then." There was a note of relish in his voice that made my skin crawl. "Ta-ta for now." The call ended, and I stared at my agent with my brow furrowed.
Okay, this seemed all kinds of shady, but was it so shady that I'd turn down a chance to get him alone? Probably not. Considering my immunity to poison thanks to [Body Defense] and my immortality, I doubted I was going to eat something drugged and wake up in an ice tub missing my kidneys or something, and if he was going to try and fuck with my mind by blasting me with a BD, [Mind Defense] would be able to defend against it.
He had an EMP, though. At least, I was pretty sure he did. Maybe he had some sort of quickhack equivalent. It wouldn't do much to me, considering my low levels of cybernetic enhancement, which was part of the reason I was leery of going too hard into cybernetics to begin with. At best, he'd knock out one of my eyes and put my nerves on the fritz, but I wasn't going to be knocked unconscious or anything.
I reached into my inventory again, pulling out a notebook and flipping a few pages, staring at my notes of the future and plans.
> Events and Issues:
>
> Pilar's death to cyberpsycho. Becca would be sad. Therefore, can't be allowed to happen.
>
> - Plan A: Search Northside. Pretty hard to pull off and low chance of working, but doesn't require investment. Keep an eye out for David's jacket getting the Edgerunner symbol.
>
> - Plan B: Use catalogue powers to bruteforce search. Maphack? Rather not see people as points. Maybe a Template with a search power. Who? Clairvoyant (Worm)? I only read fanfiction, I don't actually know their capabilities.
>
> Merlin (Fate)? On one hand, that means becoming an incubus thing, on the other, Clairvoyance will probably be insanely downgraded. Goetia has the same issues.
>
> EMIYA (Fate)? His Clairvoyance is just good eyesight. Not a good answer.
>
> Needs to be mostly a clairvoyance power and stable, with relatively low rating.
>
> Twisted Fate (League)? Possible Gameplay-Story segregation. No actual evidence of Clairvoyance in canon.
>
> Jinn (RWBY)? Maybe? Can I ask myself a question? Also, only 3 per century seems bad.
>
> Evil Queen (Disney)? Probably comes with the mirror, right? I can put the mirror in the inventory and carry it with me. Maybe.
>
> HERMIT PURPLE. Look for Joeseph Joestar (JOJO).
>
>
>
> BD Editor kidnaps David and drives him through cyberpsycho things. JK? What is his full name? Guy with eyes all over body/head.
>
> - Hunt down and kill? Problem: Rich. May have good security.
>
> - Doesn't he do his work in a warehouse or something? Maybe gank him then?
>
> - Track movements with [Sorairo Days]. See if I can find him out late and alone.
>
>
>
> Crew catches JK, catches Tanaka after that for Faraday's job. Maine goes cyberpsycho soon after. Tanaka wakes up, stalls David from doing his job (Injecting drugs into him) and uses his cybernetics to call in the Police and Trauma Team. Dorio dies too. This cannot be allowed to happen.
>
> - Pilar angle? Pilar might be able to keep David from messing up. (Also, note to self: He doesn't fire guns, doesn't inject drugs, wow David isn't cut out for Edgerunning until the timeskip.)
>
> - Can't just hop in on the job with Maine's crew. A: They don't know me. B: Too many fucking variables. Maybe I can nudge things from afar? No, that won't work, I have to be present to make sure nothing goes wrong.
>
> - Lucy would need to handle it, because Kiwi cannot be trusted with the Tanaka data. How would I remove Kiwi from the equation if Maine doesn't go specifically cyberpsycho the same way and scare her from the job?
>
> - Actually, wait a sec, I can't have the crew succeed in Faraday's job anyways because Tanaka's data has David's file on it.
>
> - Fuck, Tanaka has David on his files. That data and Tanaka have to go. Thankfully, he keeps all of it in his cyberware, so if I can get the fucker, I can burn the body and solve the problem.
>
> - Fuck it. Hijack the plan. Find JK, grab JK, brain-blast JK until he can act as bait to lure in Tanaka and end them both. Problem solved except for one guy.
>
>
>
> Faraday has to go. He's looking for Tanaka's data, which I'm destroying. Also treats David and Rebecca (And crew) as pawns. Can't let him burn them in a fucked up scheme.
>
> - Problem 1: Fixer information network scary.
>
> - Problem 2: Isn't he Arasaka? Big backing means nasty people investigating his shanking.
>
> - Use [Sorairo Days] to track down and snipe? Most direct, but possibility of being connected to death.
>
>
>
> Kiwi is a stab in the back waiting to happen.
>
> - Brainwash? Maybe. Hard to get alone.
>
> - Give large sum of money and tell to fuck off. Maybe it'll work, but I doubt it.
>
> - Kill? Want to get David & Crew's go ahead beforehand. Better to ask permission than beg forgiveness. How to convince of duplicity?
>
>
>
> Cyberskeleton heist. Probably not going to happen at any point, unless I fuck up hilariously badly. Still, it might be worth grabbing for myself.
>
> - No Rebecca hugs/fugs mean bad upgrade.
>
> - But gravity manipulation is cool. Might be worth stealing just to get tech ideas.
>
> - Except it's not because it's an Arasaka prototype, idiot. You'll catch so much heat it isn't even funny.
>
>
>
> No point in planning out the rest. If anything past this point happens, you've fucked up bad. You don't want Rebecca to be crumpled by Can-Smasher, right? THEN DON'T FUCKING LET IT HAPPEN.
>
>
>
> That being said, other issues:
>
>
>
> Lucy is a sussy baka ඞ
>
> - Brainwash? Even harder to get alone.
>
> - Also, David and Becca might be unhappy about it. Okay, they would totally be unhappy about it.
>
> - How much does she even know? How much would she even guess? I don't have a paper trail, instead I got inserted as an extra, so I have a full-on background in Night City.
>
> - Scans may not indicate cyberware, but bioware is harder to detect so that may work as an excuse for my prowess. Bioware is out of my price range, though. Hm.
>
>
>
> Friends may catch bullet eventually.
>
> - Healing power? No, I might not know or get there in time.
>
> - Resurrection power? That's more like it. Don't know many exclusive resurrection characters tho. Magika wizards?
>
> - Beeline Quest, get Technomorph and share it? Then they might get got by high level enemies.
>
>
>
> Note to self: Burn this notebook when done with it.
>
>
>
> Best Get-out-of-jail-free cards: (In Progress)
>
> - Scenario 1: I am trapped somehow and require rescue. First Hassan (Fate), Typhoon (Riodanverse), Darkness Devil (Chainsaw Man),
>
> - Scenario 2: The world is currently going to shit and I need to guarantee me and my loved one's safety/take over the world to keep everyone from killing each other. Contessa (Worm), Hades (Hercules), King of Hell (Naruto),
>
> - Scenario 3: Being targeted by the powers that be for Out-of-context Powers. (Essentially Scenario 2 but I'm initiating the first strike.) Dr. Wily (Mega Man), Momonga (Overlord)
>
>
>
> How to get David to stop going to that doc with the bite bar?
>
> - Introduce to Viktor Vektor. Done
>
> - Get him to try getting something at Viktor's? Buy him a small bit of cyberware on the house? Nah, that's weird.
>
> - Have Vik install something while he's in the room?
>
> - Just fucking tell him the doc is a quack. How would I explain knowledge? Don't want to explain knowledge. Fuck. Therapy for this? Can't tell the therapist. FUCK.
>
> - Shut down the doc with the bite bar.
>
>
My notes were jumbled, messy, more the result of a continuous stream of consciousness splurged onto paper than anything resembling a coherent plan, but detailed stuff had more points of failure, anyways.
So the plan was simple. Grab JK. Use JK to lure in Tanaka. Kill Tanaka and burn the body. Kill JK so that he'd never tell anyone what had happened.
The morality of it all was more muddy. JK was like a carrion bird. He generally didn't kill anyone, but he profited off the death of others. He was distasteful, but didn't necessarily do anything that I'd kill him for. That being said, in the future that I'd seen, he'd try and drive David insane, so fuck him.
Tanaka was an Arasaka executive, heading a project to research and develop a nasty piece of cyberware that took everything I knew about technology and tossed it out the window. As a head of the corporate hydra, his hands probably weren't dirty, but he still gave all the orders, and I doubted that the human testing involved was at all ethical. He did have a kid that'd miss him… but I couldn't find it in myself to care about that when David's safety was on the line.
When it came down to it, the muddled ethics of it all didn't matter. Tanaka had files on David about his compatibility with cyberware, overly centralized and stored on his person. If those files got out, David might be targeted. Therefore, Tanaka had to die, and the data had to burn.
It all seemed so simple when chooms entered the mix. Maybe it was a sign of selfishness, but I didn't mind. Not when it came to matters like this.
If I could swing it, Tanaka would be dead by tomorrow, and so would be canon.
----------------------------------------
Embers wasn't awe-inspiring, but it did have a certain taste and luxury to its interior that was so at odds with everything I'd known and seen for the past month that it left me speechless.
The club had a smooth, polished texture to it. Corners were smoothed over in many places, from the platforms overlooking the 'ground floor', to the bar, to the stage off to the side, where an honest-to-god piano was being smoothly played by a musician whose face was half covered with a smooth, polished gold that was either cyberware or a mask of some kind.
The decor was extravagant. Each table had an abstract metal statuette of a bonsai tree on it, while the plates, cutlery and cups were black with gold accents. I wondered if it was real gold for a moment, before doing the mental equivalent of smacking myself in the head and checking with [Analyze]. It was, at least on the surface.
I could see the stylistic choices of both Neokitsch and Neomilitarism everywhere. The walls were covered in sleek yet warmly-hued metal panels which mimicked the silhouette of a cityscape, while expensive furniture was framed by stark white lights built into the floor.
Wealth out the wazoo, displayed clearly and concisely, with subtle reminders that at the end of the day, this was the turf of people with wallets that held well beyond what the average folk of Night City could ever see in their lifetime. Whoever designed this place was clearly confident in their coffers, and subtly confident in their ability to make people disappear. That was the impression this place gave me.
Or maybe I was reading too much into furniture.
One thing was for certain, the place gleamed with opulence, and the people who ate here even more so. I looked around, seeing the futuristic equivalent of suits seemingly stapled onto carefree men with how smooth and plastic they seemed, and women in glittering fashion statements that somewhat resembled dresses. They chattered with each other amicably, without a care in the world.
I couldn't help but feel a little self conscious. I'd dressed in the most work-appropriate clothing I could scrounge up, but in my case that meant a jacket over a shirt and a pair of jeans. Not exactly high society fashion.
I slowly walked to my table, tuning in on the conversations as I passed by. To my left… "-I'm just not sure. Cheetahs are the obvious answer, but leopard spots are just so much more aesthetic." I heard a suited man complain as he gestured with a glass over a platter of sushi. "I mean, I'm going to be staring at the steering wheel all the way to the office and all the way back home, right? So I might as well pick the one that actually looks good."
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Well, they're both pretty good. Can't go wrong with big cats, after all. You know what would really spruce things up, though? Panther hide." A completely bald man calmly suggested.
"Panther hide? I don't remember seeing panther hide in the magazine." The first man said, squinting.
The bald man made a relaxed gesture. "That's because it's not out for the public yet. But I've got people at Biotechnica. You know what they tell me? They have all kinds of exclusive patterns. They'll even clone the whole animal, just to make sure that your decor gets all the little details." He picked up a piece of sushi. "For an appropriate fee, of course. If anyone could afford it, they'd be swamped day-in, day-out." He tossed the sushi into his gob, chewing thoroughly.
Meanwhile, to my right… "It's been six months already! How much longer do I have to put up with it?" A woman in a red cocktail dress sputtered indignantly.
"Just another few months. Don't worry, he'll get bored of you soon. Then, it's smooth sailing from there on." Another woman in a slick black dress lectured.
The woman in red slumped in her seat, poking at her steak with a fork. "God, the least he could do is buy a Studd. He's rich enough, I just don't understand why he says no every time I ask him about it!"
"You know, you'd be able to secure more if you were pregnant…" The woman in the black dress said with a thoughtful look on her face.
"Hrk-" The woman in red held her hand to her mouth, looking genuinely sick. After a moment, she recovered, and shook her head. "God, don't even joke about that. Just fucking thinking about it-"
I tuned the conversations out as a staff member stepped in front of me, giving a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Terribly sorry, sir, but we're fully booked for this evening." He informed me.
"I've got a booking with…" Fuck, JK hadn't actually introduced himself to me, had he? "That guy over there. Golden nose and chin." I pointed at where I saw him.
The staff gave me a dubious look, glancing to the side as his eyes briefly shimmered with inner light, probably checking the bookings. He turned his gaze back and studied me for a moment. "...This way, then." He declared.
We walked towards the table, where my client for the evening waited. JK was dressed up just as much as anyone else in Embers, if not even more so. He had a fur coat that I didn't doubt was real fur, and a great deal of jewelry, both worn and implanted. He glanced up as we approached, and a crooked smile appeared on his face. "You made it. And a few minutes before the booking, too."
Lvl 4
Str: 16
Vit: 14
Dex: 11
Int: 28
Tech: 19
Cha: 29
A man who's sold his soul for art. And money. Lots and lots of money. Expects great things.
Notable Abilities: Scanner, Radial EMP Pulse.
More and more, I was coming to the conclusion that the number after "level" didn't mean shit, considering the fact that I knew that he had an EMP that'd knock a veteran Edgerunner like Maine on his ass. Or maybe money was more important than levels. Probably the latter, considering my surroundings. In Night City, high enough quantities of money might as well be a superpower in of itself.
Speaking of David and his crew, a brief fit of paranoia had me mentally pulling up a map from [Sorario Days]. I glanced at David and Rebecca's position in the city, then the rest of David's crew. None of them were anywhere near Embers. We'd be alone tonight. Perfect.
I dismissed the map and shrugged. "I'd like to give the impression that I'm punctual." It makes me seem like a more trustworthy murderer for hire, I very nearly blurted out, but my brain-to-mouth filter kicked in for once. I wanted to give a professional impression, even if it wasn't going to matter in the end.
JK's head tilted oddly, his gaze narrowing. I noticed his eyes moving ever so slightly, focusing like a camera lens. "You're not what I expected."
I blinked and shrugged. "What did you expect?" Slipped out without thought.
"More cyberware. More discretion. More fire. You came quite recommended, you know." He said, casually swirling a glass of wine. "Ah, but where are my manners?" He held out his hand. "My name is Jimmy. I've… heard good things about you."
The hell did Regina say about me? "Thanks. Heard some interesting stuff about you, too." And seen some interesting stuff, including your death in a hypothetical timeline. My brain scrounged for a topic. How do you make conversation with people you don't know again? You asked about them, right? "What's it like being a braindance editor?"
He seemed chuffed at my question, or maybe at the fact that I was even having this conversation. "Well, it's certainly not dull work. Some might think that it's all sitting in a chair and adjusting sliders. Simply rooting out all the irrelevant thoughts and tuning up the sensations." He said, screwing an imaginary dial.
Was it strange that I actually found this interesting? "But it's not?" I pressed, leaning forwards and folding my fingers.
He shakes his head and waves his hand. "It's what you do in actual reality, yes. But in virtual reality, you're analyzing the entire tapestry of the events people live through, you see. All the sounds, the scents, all the little details that people just don't have the time or energy to focus on. You comb through moments, again and again, until you've spent more time dwelling on their past than they ever will." There was a wistful smile on his face. One that would have been more tasteful if a good deal of the material he worked with wasn't from dead, insane men.
"How does it feel, walking around in a dead man's shoes?" I probed.
He scrutinized me for a moment, seemingly looking for something on my face. Whatever he found caused him to give a self-satisfied smirk. "Nothing unusual." He said dismissively. "Dead or alive, the scroll is the same no matter the state of its host." Except at least a few of the BDs he edited ended with their recorder's deaths, but I understood him not wanting to talk about editing snuff BDs in public, so I let it go.
Still, I was genuinely curious about his state of mind about this sort of thing, and I really wanted to explore his stance on things. "Really? Nothing at all? You never feel like you're dancing on a grave, or anything?"
His brow furrowed as he looked at me. "Not particularly. Is that how you feel? As though ancient books are haunted? That every movie made by long dead men is cursed?" He waved me off with a wave of his hand. "Is it really so strange to publish the records of those who are no longer with us?"
Funny way of saying that you sell snuff BDs, but that aside… "Not exactly. But that's not really the part that I care about. You see, I don't really touch BDs. Feels like the sort of thing that I'd get addicted to spending time on way too easily." I said with a forced chuckle, quickly glancing through the menu and making my choice. "Rather, I read a great deal of books. There's certain works that are special to me, though. Axed series."
"...I presume that means a series where their author had died?" He said, raising an eyebrow, his smile suddenly nowhere to be found.
I blinked in confusion at him. Was my nomenclature really that hard to guess? Or maybe it was cultural differences. "What? No. Well, some get axed due to their authors dying." I amended my answer as an afterthought. "What I mean are stories that got cut off. Generally because it isn't getting the response the author or publisher was looking for. It mostly happens with serials, you see. Stuff that gets put out chapter by chapter. Manga's a good example." I rattled off.
Jimmy seemed lost, so I tried to expand. "The survival of the author honestly doesn't matter all that much. Rather, what I'm interested in is the death of a story, you see. There's two common ways that I've seen it happen, once when a publisher decides that the serial isn't doing well enough to keep hosting, so they ax it. They tell the author they have a few chapters to finish it with, and that's that."
There was a grin on my face that I couldn't control. I was ranting probably, but I couldn't help myself, I was on a roll! "Arcs are cut in half. Character goals are ticked off in a rush. Villains still being built up die with what little payoff they've gathered. Sometimes, the overarching plot is thrown out entirely, and the man behind the curtain has to figure out something hackneyed to draw some sort of conclusion, some sort of lesson or meaning from it all."
"A violent and messy ending, like a man seeing his death rushing towards him and scrambling to clear up his business before the curtain drops." I explained. The confused look on Jimmy's face vanished, replaced with a look of stark realization. I grinned and snapped my fingers at him as he got it.
"And then there's the other type of death. The unexplained disappearance. It happens more often in non-professional circles." I shrugged. "Sometimes there's a lead up, updates coming slower and slower before stopping for good. Sometimes they go strong right up until the final chapter. And then… silence." My grin spread, along with my hands. "Like a mosquito in amber. And it isn't like a story with an ending because those are stories, you see. They're finished." I emphasized, jabbing a finger on the table.
"But these aren't. They're like… wax museums, or something. You can see it all whenever you want, but that's that. All that's left is the eternal question, what would have come next?" I eagerly explained.
"Are you ready to order, sirs?" A polite voice cut in. I blinked as I glanced to my left, seeing a staff member staring at the two of us. I looked around quickly, noticing a few curious glances on the two of us that shifted away. Ah, right. I was in public.
Whelp. Time to act natural. "A medium-rare scotch filet steak and a water, please." I said, slowly growing aware that I had leaned in a great deal during my brief lecture. I sheepishly pulled back, waiting for the man on the other end of the table to order. Come to think of it, weren't axed series kind of similar to BDs that ended in their recorder's deaths? A little, in a fucked up way.
Jimmy had no eyes for the menu. Instead he stared at me, eyes alight. "I don't think I'll be having anything, except another pinot." He declared, sliding the empty glass across the table, the staff member took the glass and left without a word, leaving the two of us to our study of one another.
After a long while of silence, I gave a light cough, the intensity of his stare getting to me, thinking quickly about how to clear the air. "Rather, the question I wanted to ask was… is there anything interesting about digging through a person's mindset, especially with regard to them ending the recording themselves?"
Jimmy didn't reply for a moment. He leaned forwards, leaning his elbows on the table, and the club seemed to hush around us. "Did you know that prototype military cyberware comes preinstalled with BD recorders?"
"No." I admitted, rubbing my chin. "I assume it's to help keep track of any issues?"
"Indeed it is. You see, I've come across some truly remarkable footage as a result of that policy." He gave me a toothy grin that seemed to widen with every word. "I'd have never experienced such a wide range of… personhood if it weren't for the users of these prototypes."
"You mean," I gave a quick glance around, before leaning in and whispering. "Cyberpsychoes?"
"Sometimes." He quietly admitted. "There are many reasons for people to take the easy path, to break apart rather than continue on. And I may be biased here… but a great deal are certainly killers fighting for nothing. Solos who mixed in chrome that was never meant for them. Corporate soldiers at the end of their rope, after their companies abandoned them. Douglas was one of the latter, you know."
I blinked. "Douglas?"
"A man who had his legs and spine replaced with experimental fortified legs after he was blown half to pieces by a landmine during the Unification War." He explained, looking amused. At my obvious confusion. He elaborated further. "You may remember him by the projectile launch system he had installed."
Oh.
Red eyes, green glowing implants and a mouthful of missing teeth flashed in my mind. The cyberpsycho that would have killed Pilar.
The moment stretched out as [Reflex] burned in my brain. Thoughts rushed through my mind. Shit. Well, he knows. Does anyone else? Did I show anything supernatural off during that fight? No, I definitely didn't. Shit, this was probably what triggered this meeting. But what did he want?
I quickly replied with the first thing that came to mind. "So I'm guessing that Militech screwed him when he tried to readjust to civilian life, after the war ended."
"Seems like as good of a guess as any." Jimmy said as he glanced off to the side. "There have been plenty of men who just couldn't handle the change back, whether it's due to them not reading the fine print in their contracts, or being unable to find steady work after years of structure, or them simply being unable to adapt to a life without killing." His grin widened.
I felt like I was under a microscope, with the way that he was looking at me. "What was it like, inside his head?" I tried asking.
"Hazy. My surroundings would shift constantly, and there was this sense of malaise that I couldn't shake." Jimmy said casually, as if talking about the weather.
"...Are all cyberpsychoes like that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. The way it was portrayed in the anime, when someone chipped in too much the brain would pull up memories of the past as hallucinations, and those who suffered cyberpsychosis would lose track of what was real and not. In the games, cyberpsychoes were violent killing machines driven insane by implants and external stress factors that were simply too much for them to handle. In the tabletop games, cyberpsychoes were generally people who grew more cold and distant as they failed to recognize people as human.
Were they all real? Was none of it? I wanted to know, badly.
There was a frustrated, yet amused snort from Jimmy as he shook his head. "Ludicrous."
"Excuse me?" I said, raising an eyebrow.
"You heard me, it's ludicrous!" He threw his hands up. "There is more to cyberpsychoes than the media would have you know. Cybernetics can affect brain chemistry, and so can the drugs people take to cope with their cyberware. The symptoms range, because human brains range." He ranted, jabbing his head with a ringed index finger.
"And there's more to that, too. Cybereyes, legs, arms, organs, do you think that they all result in uncontrollable mania? No! It's more than that! It's a vast and deep ocean of experiences and feelings, but all the layman does is look at the packaging and see the label." He declared passionately.
I stared at the animated man, suddenly flummoxed by his change in demeanor. "Wait… Are you saying that cyberpsychosis is a spectrum?"
"Somewhat!" He said as he jabbed a finger at me. "It's an entire branch of the mind, and nobody gives it the credit that it is due! Everybody hears the word and thinks the same thing, a killer with red optics and mantis claws, they don't look at what's beneath it all. The soul." He hissed, rubbing his fingers together.
I leaned back in my seat, my mind flashing back to what I knew of the issue. "I heard there was more to it. It's not just chemical imbalances caused by putting metal into meat. It's the feeling of superiority. It's the perspective that you're something above them, that others are lesser because they aren't like you." I tilted my head. "Because others can't possibly understand you."
He raised a finger with a grin. "Not completely incorrect! Cyberware is a catalyst, but not a cause. It's when meat mixes with metal, and people get muddied on what's real or what's fake. What's human and what's not." Jimmy declared, he waved his arm to the side. "This girl has an artificial jaw. Is she human? This man has a chip in his brain that makes him a master at lying. How do you know if he's telling the truth? And don't even get me started on the Secure Your Soul program." He spat out. "How do you know that what comes out the other end is you, when you're still standing there?'
I'd read and heard about the Secure Your Soul program, a service from Arasaka for wealthy individuals to upload copies of their minds to their corporate overlords for a great fee. It certainly seemed shady as shit to me, but apparently the red flags weren't enough to dissuade some rich people who wanted to live forever, whatever it took. "You sign on?"
Jimmy shrugged. "Don't see a reason to. After all, why do I care if there's another me somewhere else? I'm still here, my lifespan winding down with every heartbeat. No, it's not worth it. Not in the slightest." He declared, taking a sip from a newly delivered glass of wine.
"Mm." I could see where he came from, potential fuckery Arasaka could pull with your mental engram aside. I had always been a hedonist. Music, good food, video games, books, these were the things that made life worth living. For a brief time, living out my power fantasies had replaced my hobbies, but eventually I calmed down.
My legacy didn't matter to me a great deal. I wanted to live the best life I could. I'd settle for it if I had no other option, but it just wasn't the same. "But anyways. Cyberpsychosis." I urged him to continue.
Jimmy didn't look like he'd stop for the world. "Yes, indeed. These people lose sight of what is human… and they are confused. Unmoored. Panicked." His gaze narrowed as he stared down at the table. "They isolate themselves from the sea of the tainted, withdrawing into the only sure thing there is. Themselves. They become the only thing that matters. What they see. What they hear. Meanwhile, the world forgets them."
A realization struck me. "And they forget the world. Hallucinations and chaos follow as the mind winds in on itself seeking stimulus." I muttered, rubbing my chin.
Jimmy gave me a pleased smile. "Indeed. Not all cyberpsychoes are veterans of some corporate war or some Edgerunner who's chipped in more speedware that they can handle, though they are indeed the most spectacular of the lot. I do not know how many have vanished, rotting in their homes. And all it takes is a single implant. A knee here, a hand there, a liver that now you don't have to worry about!"
He gave a chuckle that was somewhat demented. "But you won't lock yourself away, will you? No, you long to be seen. To be heard. You wish for the whole world to see you for what you're worth." He leaned in close, an eager look on his face. "And I wish to capture it."
My brain blinkered, and the realization settled in. "You want me to record a BD for you." It was obvious in hindsight, I'll admit.
He spread his arms wide and nodded. "Close, though it's not that simple. I'll pay for you to install a BD scroller, but I don't just want to see you on your day to day, no. I will give you payment, month after month, year after year if that's what it takes. But I wish for the same thing you do." His eyes pinned me in place. "You see… I wish to capture your end."
I quietly stared at him. "Wait, did you take a hit out on me?" I asked, incredulously. I glanced to my left at the windows, wondering if I'd see a laser dot on my forehead or something.
There was a startled cackle from the man. "I don't want that, not exactly. Rather, I want to see you go screaming over the edge. I want to see you go absolutely batshit insane." He leaned in even more, his expression bordering on the maniacal as he met my shocked stare. "You may not notice it… but you're already dancing on the brink. I saw it. I saw you begging for it, something meaningful, a challenge."
"But you'll find no such thing on the streets." His eyes were wide and unblinking as he stared into my soul. "I can tell, you see no trouble in survival, do you? All you're waiting for is something bigger than you ever will be to take notice of you and cut you down."
"So I'll take the pressure off your shoulders. The struggle to the top. The grindstone of the city on your mind. I'll pay you a salary to simply exist." His grin stretched from ear to ear. "Plenty to live off of. You can enjoy meals like this every week or so. You see the people around you? You can dress like them. Live like them." He gave a grand, sweeping gesture to the people around me. "Or if that's not what tickles your fancy, then I'll happily give you everything you need to chip in everything you want, and hurl yourself at whatever target you choose."
He must have seen something in my expression, because he backed off with a smile. "Really, it's more of a gamble than anything, on my end. A bet between you and me. If you manage to keep your head above water, to hold yourself together…" He chuckled. "Then I'll keep paying you for a long, long time."
"So what do you say?" He spread his arms out, and I blinked as a steaming steak meal was set down in front of me. "Luxury. Peace of mind. All I want is to see what will happen next."
"...Can I have a moment to think?" I asked, carefully. He gestured for me to go ahead, and I stared down at the steak in front of me. It smelled nice and familiar. I picked up a knife and fork, and quietly began to cut it.
Of course, I wouldn't take this deal. For starters, I planned on killing him as soon as possible. But on one hand, I couldn't exactly turn him down on the grounds of 'Planning to kill the client', and on the other, I also wanted to give him a good answer as to why.
I cut a chunk of the steak off and stared at it for a moment, before putting it in my mouth and chewing it for a while. The outside of the steak was seared, and the inside was a bit too dry. I was hungry, so it still felt good, but… "You know, I've gone to a whole bunch of restaurants. And they never seem to get steak quite right." I spitballed.
The look on Jimmy's face shifted ever so slightly into bafflement, but I soldiered on. "It's the fat that's the most important part of the steak. Well, that and the moisture. Well done steak is garbage, as far as I'm concerned. But that aside. Fat. Marbling. It's really important. I swear, I can never seem to find anybody who can cook steak as well as one of my aunts did."
"Though, I'll give them credit, I knew one restaurant that made black pepper sauce way better than I ever could." I expanded, cutting in and taking another bite. "But besides that, they don't tend to include nearly enough carbs, either. Sure, sometimes they have potato fries or mash, but in my opinion, steak goes way better with rice than anything else." I said as I chewed.
"Of course, they're not cooking for me. They're cooking for everyone. They're playing to a whole crowd." I shrugged. "Maybe steak with mash is way more popular than I thought. I personally don't get it, but they can do them and I'll do me." I swallowed.
…Fuck, I thought I was going somewhere with this. Uh… "What I'm trying to say is… you've probably way more experienced with cyberpsychosis than I am, but I'm a little more experienced with me, you know?" Jimmy gave me an incredulous look that I shrugged at. "That, and you don't seem like you'll listen to much about what I have to say, because you already seem to think I'm two ham sandwiches short of a picnic. Which, to be fair, I might be." I admitted.
"But there's something else that I wanted to mention, about the cyberpsychosis thing. We touched on it a little, but I feel like the catalyst to cyberpsychosis isn't necessarily cyberware. People have been going violently batshit for as long as people have been people, for all sorts of reasons. Sure, the brain chemistry being fucked with by shoving metal in you is probably part of it, but there's something else to it." I quietly spoke. "The environment."
"I think the corps are a part of this… dehumanization. It's the advertising. It's all manipulation. You tell the other guy that he's worthless. You break him down. You cast him in the light of everything he doesn't have. Looks, luxury, love. You tell him that you're willing to give it to him for a price…" I inclined my head, twirling my finger around. "And then you do it again. And again."
"You might sell him defective junk, but you barely have to. The human mind always pushes for more, because that's what people are like. You get them to buy for self-worth once and you have him hooked. You gather the wealth he gave you and use it to tell the next guy, and the next guy after that, until you have a society that can't find value in society…" I was rambling, and not entirely sure what I was saying, but something came to me like a bolt of lightning. "Or themselves, for that matter."
I felt another jolt, but this was different. A brush of shivering cold up my spine. Something was about to happen. I'd have to talk fast.
"That's how you end up with this... society-wide deep rooted insecurity. So they do what's easy, they earn, and then they pay for what they think will make them special. They see value not in what they accomplish, but what they purchase." I said, rubbing my chin. Did any of it apply to me? It sorta seemed like it would. What had I accomplished? Was it a result of my purchases? Part of it, but I was a part of it too, wasn't I?
…I've actually come pretty far, now that I thought about it. I was being hunted by Maelstrom because I've put too big of a dent in them to ignore. Jimmy wanted me on a slab to see what makes me tick, and I had other people now, too. People who cared about me, who wanted to see me at my best. I wasn't just some street punk small fry. I was making… ripples. Not waves, I'm definitely not that big of a deal, but I didn't want to sell myself short, either.
Ah crud, I was spending too long in my own head, wasn't I? I glanced over to Jimmy, who was wordlessly staring at me with a strangely flat look on his face. "Thanks!" I beamed. Before pausing. "But… I mean, no thanks. I'm sorry, but I'm kinda enjoying my climb to the top. It isn't exactly a cakewalk or anything, but that's part of what I find interesting about it. All the time and effort." I shrugged. "I don't think I'd enjoy sitting here if it were just on your dime, you know?"
The two of us sat there silently, studying the other in a new light. I quietly waited for the other shoe to drop. I had the strange feeling that he wouldn't take no for an answer, but I wasn't sure how he'd try and make me change my mind.
There was something else, though. Something he said earlier that lingered in my mind. "That being said, there was something else you mentioned. Something about wanting to be seen and heard." I spoke up, looking at another piece of steak on my fork. "And I'm just speaking a little from experience here, so maybe this doesn't apply to you, but how long have you been planning out that whole cyberpsychosis lecture? Cause it sorta felt like you weren't just passionate about it, but also that you hadn't had the chance to get it all out before."
"Over the entirety of my career." He said absentmindedly, his gaze unfocused.
My brow furrowed as I thought about it. "...Wait a sec, how many other people have you given this spiel to?"
"A number that I can only count on one hand." He shook his head. "Not that it matters." He announced, standing up. "You clearly have no interest in my offer, so I'll let you have the rest of the night to yourself."
I blinked at his withdrawal, before a thought occurred to me. "Wait a sec. What about the bill?"
"Oh, that's nothing to worry about." He chuckled, turning around and walking towards the door to what I assumed was the kitchen.
I tilted my head in confusion. I considered going after him, but if I wanted to have him disappear, I didn't want to be seen following him. Then, another jolt up my spine warned me of something, and I glanced around in confusion before noticing something. At the entrance of the restaurant was a man in a suit, but unlike the other rich men around me, he seemed strangely unkempt, his outfit less impeccably tailored than the others.
He also had a cyberoptic visor set installed with numerous red pupils which darted around, seemingly independent of each other. They focused on me all at once as the two of us made pseudo-eye contact. In the same moment, [Analyze] fired off, showing me what I was looking at.
Cyberpsycho
Lvl 31
Str: 29
Vit: 102
Dex: 36
Int: 14
Tech: 27
Cha: 11
Here comes the other shoe.
Notable Abilities: BD Scroller, Scanner, Projectile Launch System, Subdermal Armor, Combat Stims, Mk1 Sandevistan.
…Oh. So that was what he had meant.