City-21 “Kyiv,” UNSA Protectorate, Avril Dominion
NES Factory Industrial Zone, “Lizard’s Tail” Medical Center
Maksim Chernykh and Nikola Kowalski, August 13, 2049, 8:49 AM
When Max and Nikola returned to the clinic, they were met with an odd silence. It was pretty clear that the rest of the team was already aware of the newly acquired extranet access. Dasha had locked herself in her room, even taping a hastily scribbled note to the door: “Do Not Disturb! I’m Not Here anyway!”
Meanwhile, Alisa was in the main hall, absorbed in either calculations and assisting Dasha with the development of their new project — the future System — or perhaps interacting with the outside world. Maksim didn’t bother to ask her over a private channel what exactly was going on. She would explain when she deemed it necessary. He assumed though that his sister had immediately dived into checking her mysterious sources of information, which she hadn’t yet disclosed even to him.
Leaving the hard-earned “loot” in the hall, the pair of “negotiators” set off to fetch their first patient from the ward where he was recovering post-surgery. Along the way, Max took a slight detour to collect sample specimens from Dasha’s experiments in the chem lab. After all, who knows? Perhaps they could find a buyer for those as well.
The preparations were swift, as time for the meeting with Miro was running short. Within minutes, Tomasz was fully dressed and seated in a wheelchair. He had already gone through primary rehabilitation, and as he put it, both his cyber-legs “fit like a glove.” He even tried to stand and walk on his own. However, his initial injuries had been quite severe, so Doctor Alisa prescribed a sedentary lifestyle at least until the evening, or better yet, the full five days with the regeneration belt.
It seemed the young thug had somehow learned that Nikola had already been in a couple of fights with the shaiszu and had won them almost barehanded. It was hard to say what his friends had found or fabricated while chatting on the Factory’s local network during his recovery. But now, he looked at Redhead with a kind of gruff admiration, awkwardly trying to show “street respect,” which looked rather odd considering his imposing figure and temporary dependence on a wheelchair.
They reached the designated meeting spot without incident. Precisely at 9:00 AM, all three found themselves in front of an unremarkable concrete building without any special signs. Above the large entrance was a plaque that read “Consulting Company Consultant M,” a small surveillance camera, and a call button. However, they didn’t need to press it; the door opened automatically as soon as the guests approached.
They were greeted by an utterly empty concrete corridor about 15 meters long, ending with a similar gray metal door. Mounted under the ceiling in several places were embrasures with the muzzles of machine guns and flamethrowers poking out. It was an improvised “airlock chamber” designed to lure an enemy inside, trap them in, and eliminate. To clean up the remains, two plastic shovels stood modestly in the corner, along with a hose protruding from the wall for washing blood and brains off the walls.
“Impressive! Despite all the cynicism!” Nikola remarked with a smile, assessing the sight.
The hospitable door at the end of the corridor opened, and Miro appeared at the entrance. Casting a keen eye over Tomasz’s condition, he seemed quite satisfied and waved them in.
“Well, come on in, our dear guests.”
Maksim winced at the thought that it was the second time this morning he had heard such a greeting, and once again, complex negotiations with a challenging interlocutor awaited.
“Quite a cozy place you’ve got here!” Redhead stepped forward with a wide smile, pushing the ‘patient’ in his wheelchair. “I guess the consulting business is thriving. Umm… was thriving… until recently.”
“You bet!” The local mafia boss clearly appreciated the humor. “We dug in here for the long haul and with comfort!”
The mention of comfort was no exaggeration. Behind the second door were a couple more defense lines, but beyond them, an snug underground world with all the amenities opened up. Tomasz quickly disappeared, greeted with joyous shouts, jokes, and pats on the back.
The air was clean and fresh, thanks to filters, conditioners, and humidifiers. The long corridor revealed a dozen identical doors to residential “cabins,” some even slightly ajar. Further along, past another door, a small gym with good equipment, treadmills, and boxing bags flashed by. A bright sticker reading “Attention! Shooting Range!” caught the eye.
And further down, even lower, Maksim and Nikola found themselves in the common “hangout” zone. A canteen, or rather a spacious cafe-bar was followed by a wide hall. A couple of pool tables, sofas, dining tables, several large wall screens… The powerful exhaust system under the ceiling was processing the smoke from about a dozen tough guys who were engaged in various activities, all of them avid fans of smoking the “Herbarium from Miro’s Mom.”
“Let’s get down to business, we need to hurry.” The former professor briskly switched from his veneer of friendliness, striding towards one of the passages at the back of the hall. “It seems this comfort won’t last much longer.”
For a moment, he paused, grasping the door handle, his posture betraying accumulated fatigue. However, this feeling quickly vanished, and his face again took on an expression where friendliness mingled with slight superiority.
“Time to discuss the next stages of our cooperation... colleagues.”
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Inside, there was a conference room with comfortable armchairs, a table, and a wide screen on the wall. Judging by the arrangement of the furniture, it was clear that the display was rarely used, probably only when participants couldn’t access augmented reality.
“It’s good that the first patient’s procedure went smoothly. But as I mentioned, your next client is my nephew. Need to be certain there won’t be any issues. So, I absolutely must look this ‘doctor’ of yours in the eyes and assess their capabilities.”
Maksim frowned. “I thought the successful surgery on Tomasz would suffice. And then, whose eyes do you plan to look into, Mr. Gorich? The operation was performed by a robot. Yes, our ‘doctor’ is not human. It’s an android powered by an advanced AI. And yes, it survived the Protectorate’s attack because it was disconnected from the network, so the virus didn’t reach it.”
Miroslav stared intently at Max for a moment, and then broke into a wide grin.
“Well, of course! You’re a Chernykh, after all! A strong AI, you say... And what level?”
“T6- triple-plus. A commercial student startup. All the necessary certifications, of course, are in place,” Maksim’s face became an expressionless mask. Nika cautiously glanced at him and adopted a similarly self-assured and unperturbed demeanor.
“Hmm, how convenient. Just on the lower edge of A.M.I.’s requirements. Well then, show me your android. Anyway, I want to look into its mechanical eyes and talk to it personally. You know, I’m an old-school guy. These are my quirks; need to see everything in person, to feel them, so to speak.”
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Maksim had to close his mouth shut and keep to himself the already prepared proposal to provide a detailed treatment report, which would be much more informative and effective in all respects. It seemed that this round of negotiations went to the mobster, whose experience and stronger position won out. Trying not to show his disappointment, the guy opened the video communication screen in virtual reality and contacted his sister. He decided to demonstratively talk to her only by voice, avoiding communication through a closed channel, which an experienced person would certainly notice.
“Alisa, hi. Our friend Miroslav Gorich is nearby. With him, we are discussing weapons and other equipment.”
“Yes, I know where you are.” Alisa responded after a short pause. Then, slightly more animated, she added, “Wait... Miroslav... Professor Gorich, am I right?”
“Exactly,” Maksim chuckled. “Small world, isn’t it? He wants your opinion on the prospects of treating his nephew. You see, he’s an old-school guy. Insists on talking to you personally, through a video call.”
“Really? Umm, okay. Just a moment.” There were soft rustling sounds and some other noises before an image of Alisa appeared. Behind her was a plain wall, with the room hidden from view. But the interior did not interest the former professor at all.
“Tanya? Tanya Savchenko? Or rather... Chernykh, after marriage...” For the first time, Maksim saw such genuine surprise on the usually impassive gangster’s face.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Miroslav, but it seems you’re mistaken,” Alisa’s face retained the professional, polite expression of a robot assistant. “I’m an android based on the OHR platform, with a 32-processor Artel AI-Core13. Listed in the A.M.I. registry as Alisa Chernykh. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh…. of course…” Miro muttered, looking down thoughtfully. “That’s right, the little daughter was named Alisa. No wonder there’s a resemblance...”
“Alright, esteemed android based on the Artel AI-Core13,” the mob boss quickly regained his composure and got down to business. “I sent you the description of the patient’s injuries. It’s Zoran Vujic. As I already explained to your... partner, he is a close family member. It’s crucial to me that everything goes perfectly. I am responsible for this guy’s health, you know.”
Alisa responded instantly, right after receiving the information package.
“Yes, I can see the situation is serious. A penetrating chest wound, the lung and heart are damaged, the left deltoid muscle is injured, as well as both biceps and triceps and the elbow flexor of the wrist; two fractures on the left arm...”
“A monster almost pierced him through with a spike. And the attempts to defend himself nearly cost him his arms... The boy is a sniper. Or, rather, was… Shot down seven of those beasts. But when they finally broke through, he couldn’t ward them off.”
“We stabilized his condition, but full healing requires technologies that I’m physically unable to get in these conditions,” the former professor frowned and shook his head as if trying to shake off a sense of helplessness. “However, he has a good cyber core, considering his field of activity, so I expect the operation to succeed.”
“I sympathize with you,” the android inclined her head sympathetically. “My preliminary treatment plan involves increasing the degree of the patient’s cyborgization. You do understand, the ‘Lizard’s Tail’ is an excellent clinic... given its semi-legal nature, but considering the situation, its capabilities are limited. With this data package, it’s difficult to assess the prospects fully and reliably. I need to see it on the spot. As a person who doesn’t trust regular reports, you must understand me.”
“Looks like I’ve seen enough to assess you as a doctor,” Miro noted with a bitter smile and barely audibly muttered, “and, I guess, even more...”
“In any case, I don’t have a better option than you.” he continued, fixing his gaze on the virtual screen as if trying to pierce her with his stare. “And you seem like a person... an android... whom I can trust. Just promise you’ll take this on and do everything in your power.”
“You have my personal word,” Alisa closed her eyes in a gesture of agreement. “I may not be an AI specialized exclusively in medical treatment, but I do understand the importance of the Hippocratic oath and realize the significance of human life.”
“I believe you,” Miroslav replied after a short pause. “Well then, it was a pleasure to meet you. I’d love to chat a bit more, but there are urgent matters now.”
“Of course,” she gave a response with a smile. “Goodbye. I’m ready to begin the operation as soon as the patient arrives.”
The video call ended, leaving the participants in the negotiation in a quiet room for a while.
“Well, the gentleman and the lady, it seems we’ve settled that matter,” the mobster broke the silence first. “Once we finalize the other details, my boys will help transport Zoran to your clinic. I hope Doctor Alisa Chernykh works miracles. And rest assured, I’ll make it worth for you.”
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Stepping out of the conference room, Miro looked around and asked, stopping one of the guys loitering nearby:
“Hey, back up a second, where’s One-Eye? We need to discuss the arsenal matters with the guys.”
“Eh, he was here just a bit ago. Early in the mornin’, he was testin’ new toys at the range. Then he said he wanna chill,” the guy laughed, pointing. “Oh, right! There he is, done with chillin’ already!”
In a dim corner of the room, there were two couches, a huge ashtray, and a massive booth that looked like a cross between a tanning bed and a teleportation capsule. The garishly pink logo left no doubt about its purpose.
“Wow, you guys really have everything a soul… and body could desire here!” Max whistled in surprise.
Sprawled on a sofa near the booth was a short, stocky, bearded man, resembling some “cyber-dwarf.” It was clear why he was called “One-Eye” – a large, gleaming chrome implant had replaced his left eye and covered almost a third of his shaved head.
Taking a long drag from his cigarette, he affectionately patted the booth’s plastic side. “Man, if only you were a real woman, I’d stick with ya forever and never cheat!”
“You’re killing me!” Miro laughed, approaching. “Of course you wouldn’t cheat, ‘cause she’s the epitome of variety! What more could a man want? How many pre-installed beauties does it have now? A couple hundred at least! And the guys even bought custom versions, those little pervs! So, who were you relaxing with today? A black girl again?”
“Nope, this time it was sunny Brazil. The legendary ‘Girl from Ipanema,’ a poet’s dream... And then her friend joined! Damn, they drained my soul.”
“Alright, One-Eye, get yourself together – we’ve got work to do. The guys need to be equipped from our stock for this amount. Consult, advise, you know, like for family. Got it? I’ll be back later, let me know what you pick. Alright, gotta go.”
Miro left to attend to his business, and the “dwarf” extended his hand to Maksim.
“Jovan. Call me ‘One-Eye,’ don’t matter, I’m fuckin’ used to it.”
“Max.”
“Nicola.”
“Hey, I know you, Redhead,” the thug smirked. “Everyone from the old crew watched your fights. Alright, let’s hit the armory, no point to dick around.”
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While following Miro’s direct instruction to “select like for family,” Chernykh and Kowalsky were soon astonished by the sheer variety available in the virtual gallery. It had a vast array of weapons, ammunition, military robotics, and all kinds of gear... Their eyes darted around, wanting “everything at once,” but the total cost in their “cart” rapidly escalated.
Here, Redhead truly shone. The list presented to One-Eye was scrutinized, debated, and altered. Certain units were examined closely, mostly in virtual reality, but some even in real life. They discussed the costs – including purchase price, market value, factoring in wear and tear, maintenance, ammunition costs, and so on.
Along with weapons, plenty of additional gear made it to the list – camping, camouflage, protective equipment, and three dozen combat and reconnaissance drones.
And they had to stay within the agreed amount! In the end, they managed to...
Succeed!
But it took lots of effort.
Perhaps it wasn’t entirely ethical, but Max was inwardly relieved that they had a job involving the treatment of Gorich’s nephew. His future repairs added a significant sum to their coffers. Plus, Miro’s cyborgs would undergo maintenance at the clinic. Furthermore, Jovan’s guys were seriously interested in Dasha’s pharmaceutical creations that Max had wisely brought along. After a brief trial, the drugs were deemed top-notch, even causing quite a stir among the gang. All in all, the deal was fair, and both parties shook hands with satisfaction.
“Well, that’s about it!” One-Eye said contentedly, holding a tablet with an extensive list – the result of an intense forty-minute brainstorming session between Max, Nikola, and Jovan.
He must have sent a signal through a secure channel because Miro walked into the armory immediately.
“So, did you choose everything you wanted?”
Max and Nicola nodded in unison, and Jovan handed over the tablet.
“I nailed the hell outta it! Tuned, tested, from the special reserve. Ammunition in the second list, cybernetics in the third.”
“Good... This too... Yeah, a good selection,” Miro quickly scanned the lists on the tablet. “Excellent, have the guys load all this onto the platform! And prep the med-capsule with Zoran, he’s going with them too.”
“Got it,” Jovan took the tablet back. “We’re gonna load the goods now. The platform’ll come back on its own, don’t stress. Just orient it on the surface before ya head back inside your place. Alright, Red, Max, good meetin’ ya. Swing by sometime, we’ll keep talkin’.”