"Why would I need a biomonitor that knows if I'm upright?" I asked Vik in confusion as he worked.
"If you are in a car crash, medical services push your priority of rescue a bit higher if you are flipped. Did it connect?" Vik explained as he adjusted my new toes.
I checked all the new data streams, including the new microload on my neural I/O against a documented norm.
Then I looked at my files and took note of the small piece of software that now ran to make my toes move. Need to add security later.
"It did. What if I adjusted the biomonitor to signal that I'm on my head, just to push my priority up?"
"Insurance terminates after you do that once. Unless you have the platinum package and silently adjust it back with an upcharge. Try to move them."
I tried to wiggle my new toes on my left leg. Old ones were basically lifeless, temporary plastic ones to make me walk normally.
"Did I match the skin tone properly?" Vik asked, adjusting his sunglasses.
"All good. Can I walk around?" I said, sitting up.
"Sure. I did my job pretty nicely, if I do say so myself. Might feel a bit unresponsive at first," Vik said and took off his operation glove.
I stood up and took a few steps and tried to do a Michael Jackson lean. Toes held, but I did not go too far.
"Decided which one we are going with?" Vik asked as he began opening sterile boxes.
I looked at the two options of biomonitors. Then at my balance.
Blue ICE sold another copy yesterday. I was sitting at a comfortable sixteen thousand eddies.
"Let's go with a premium option, one by Cytech."
Vik nodded and closed the other box, putting it back away.
"Sit back down and relax. It will take a while."
I walked back and sat on the chair and turned to Vik as he gathered the equipment.
"Can you really work off Sasha's sketch?"
My new face as Rafael Quintan is largely based on my own, but with added distinctions that Sasha happily drew up. Added fullness of cheekbones, EMP threading, change of eye shape, rhinoplasty for the nose, and a mole on my earlobe. It made me look much older.
Weird how she has a template photo of my face ready. No idea when she took it.
Overall, it was enough to make almost every person not think we were the same person by my estimation. But the medical precision based on the sketch is a little disconcerting.
"Sure can. Your girlfriend is quite an artist. But have you given a thought about removing all of the excess neural tissue? It might be time to take it seriously," Vik asked, with a notable concern in his voice.
That is a big question.
That tissue is likely SC. Removing it means resetting the little progress I have with figuring out how to cooperate with it. And as of the last day, it has been only repeating "food" over and over.
Will Vik be able to detect its activity? Am I going to appear brain-dead again?
Vik waited patiently for my answer.
"It's fine as it is for now, Vik. Carve away."
"Translation chip, RAM extension, synthetic stomach and large intestine replacement, face change, voice modulator, and a biomonitor. Right?"
"Yes. Why are you asking?"
"That's a lot to handle all at once. Just making sure," Vik said and injected me with an anesthetic in my neck.
"It's not that much. Most of them don't even increase neural load at all. You know my weird physiology. I can handle it."
"If you say so."
Slowly, I fell into a deep sleep.
And then woke up. Instantly.
I stared at the ceiling of Vik's clinic, trying to remember anything. I was fully expecting another vivid dream.
Though it seems like I remember some parts, they feel closer to forgotten dreams than fresh ones.
Something about guns maybe. I shot at targets, maybe? Not sure.
Noise of some boxing match to my left. I tried to turn my head, but Vik interjected.
"Don't move around."
I lay still, feeling my body and finding it incredibly numb. Especially my face.
Vik's footsteps approached and he began speaking.
"You should be asleep. Sorry, I misjudged the dosage for you. I'll inject you with more."
With no argument, I fell right back to sleep under medication.
And then, right back to being conscious again. Just like a snap.
This time I felt somewhat normal and decided to look at the time.
Six hours passed since the beginning of the operation.
I slowly sat up, careful not to rupture anything. But Vik usually did an extremely good job of sewing people up, so there should be no problem. Nanotech was quick to a stupid degree.
Vik sat back in his chair, dead asleep. A TV show was running on mute just near him.
Never saw him actually sleeping. Running a twenty four seven clinic is way too much work. Bless the man.
I carefully disconnected myself from the machinery and the nutrient feeder.
Standing up, I headed for the bag and took out new clothes. It would be dumb if I changed faces and wore the same things going out of the clinic.
Looking over the new set of clothes that were intentionally dirtied up a little, I thought how much of a pain it will be subtly introducing the changes to the people I know.
About that, how do I look like?
I looked around and found a piece of shiny metal in the corner. A piece of somebody's arm, perhaps.
Squatting and picking it up, I gazed upon my new new face.
Well, hello, Rafael. Albeit unofficial for now.
My hairline was adjusted slightly to be straighter. Eyes became much less deep-set.
Nose is now nearly model material. And basically everything else.
This will take some getting used to.
I really struggled to find the stitches. It may be because of the poor mirror, but most of the scars on my cheekbones were hidden by the new EMP threading that went from under my eyes to the sideburns, cutting through and giving my eyes a sharper look.
I began slowly touching my face. It's even stranger than my previous face. At least that one was somewhat resembling how I looked back on my world.
Hey, SC?
There was a long silence, where I just stared at my own reflection.
Search failed. Copy impossible.
It startled me. How are you speaking so well?
Not enough for the Search. No active Search. Energy excess.
You need data for the Search, right?
Yes.
Can you focus on something from the data I acquire?
Yes.
From now on, focus the Search on how to pretend to be another person. I will try my best and have the related experiences. And then Copy. That is your function, right?
Acceptable.
A moderate headache hit me. Okay, change of plans.
Now don't talk, SC. I think it's enough. I want to be able to walk around.
I changed into my cheap new black suit that placed me as a regular man returning from work.
Checked the new systems, including the new RAM extension for my cyberdeck. I had to adjust to work with my overclock, but the specs indicated were compatible.
The stomach and the large intestine seemed to be online and functioning, offering me analysis of the things I eat and improving absorption and alerting me if I ingest anything poisonous or toxic.
Biomonitor online. I may be too excited and my heart rate shows. Real-time translator chip ready to go, loaded with Spanish, Japanese, and Mandarin. That will cover about every interaction I plan to have.
Oh, and the voice modulator. Just to tweak how I sound when needed. No fucker will catch me on such a sloppy thing. The cult leader heard how I sound. Basically forced me to get it. Extremely illegal in civilian use, as it turns out.
I turned back and looked at sleeping Vik.
"Bye bye for now," I said, my new voice now deeper.
I transferred the funds and the notification made Vik wake up.
"Urgh. What? … Safe travels," he said sleepily before promptly letting his head flop again.
Looking around, I picked up the meds Vik prepared for me to take right next to my bag.
Immunosuppressants mostly, just to make sure my body doesn't reject the cyberware.
And together with Vik, we devised a plan to get a cheap, low-risk replacement replacement. Just in case it does not go as planned.
But I doubt SC and its growth as a benign tumor will reach all the way down there.
I got outside and tossed the bag with my old clothes into a nearby trash pile.
Misty closed down for the day, but I have other targets to test out my new persona.
Without my knowledge, the hairless cat that lives here approached me and began circling and hugging my feet.
I once again tried to pet it, and this time it did not run away.
"So you thought I was ugly before? What a bad kitty," I said and tapped its head very lightly, making a meaty sound.
It withstood a few of them before running away.
Standing there for a second, I heard distant gunfire as some regular shootout began.
I let out a big sigh.
Fun's over. Back to work it is.
I called Delamain and gave him the pickup location and my destination. REO Meatwagon.
It's high time to secure the future.
I walked out to Jig Jig Street and was met with the rampant debauchery that is prevalent here.
Lights began flickering in my face and I zoned out, ignoring the catcalls and the screaming ads.
David is one in a million. At least he was, as I know him from what I saw in the show.
And what makes him different is his humanity, and how it made him incredibly talented to handle the stress of cyberware. Nothing else.
I need to know if this still carries out.
Despite my efforts, I failed to locate Lucyna Kushinada. No official traces, no obvious sightings within metro thieving reports the last two weeks, no matching identity within Night City's netrunners community. Nothing.
I cannot rely on chance.
That means there is no control on David if his mother dies or gets locked up, with how reckless I heard from Sasha she is getting with black market chrome extraction from corpses. I am only delaying the inevitable at the cost of our future. Mine and David's.
If I miss the opportunity, I will have no control over how his story will pan out. No confidence that gets the Sandevistan, no confidence that he will become a merc, no confidence that he will survive.
This is about the time when Gloria Martinez returns home from her double shifts. I will have to act quick.
Sitting in the car, I ignored everything outside and the Delamain ugly 3D face flashing on the screen before me and tweaked the script I wrote a while ago as a security measure.
Hack a transmission-capable network, infect it with a virus. That virus releases the payload and deletes itself. Turns out it's pretty garbage, as Sasha pointed out.
Most security features did not allow for a full deletion of data and there are bound to be traces. But it will work.
I silently stepped out onto the street that was the employee-only paid parking area of REO Meatwagon. It was a closed-off space, but not completely obfuscated.
Gloria got her car fixed with the new influx of reckless money. I knew that much by accessing the data from her megabuilding and seeing the car going in and out.
I stood on the wall overlooking the exit.
There is justice in my actions.
Nearby stood a van of reporters waiting to follow any ambulance that was dispatched from a nearby special vehicle exit. They tried to conceal it, but the quick scan showed dozens of cameras and the other TV equipment, along with two people inside doing nothing.
With a sigh, I began the intrusion, and with the attacking daemon Dead Air, I had plenty of time to infect the equipment and have my hack ready to execute as soon as I provided the car signal to it. No alarm triggered. No need for the full fifteen seconds.
I stood there for what felt like days.
Yellow Thornton Galena G240. Yellow Thornton Galena G240.
There is no remorse. It's for the better. This needs to happen.
Many cars got out of the parking, and each one felt like a mirage as I began seeing it each time the bumper was showing.
It has to be done.
Brown Mahir Supron.
Blue Makigai MaiMai P126.
It was nearing ten PM. She must be out soon.
Black Mahir Supron FS3, and then…
Yellow Thornton Galena G240.
I clenched my jaw.
Upload the signature.
Her car got out of the parking and approached the checkpoint gate, with the latter slowly opening.
I zoomed in with my optic and saw her face briefly. Full of concentration. You were a good mother.
///EXECUTION COMPLETE…///
///TERMINATING INSTANCE…///
Her car's fuel injector malfunctioned, and with a spark, the whole thing lit up on fire. And with how dangerous CHOOH2 is…
A big explosion sounded across the multiple city blocks, making the ground shake, and a roaring fire began to spear out of the wreck. Fire from CHOOH2 is hard to put out and is very hot.
It's cheap and therefore commonplace, and only the best cars were made of materials that did not get destroyed by it. And even then, you had to be lucky.
People screamed and ran away. Panic ensued, and the reporters' car opened up to capture the tragedy in high resolution. I doubt it will make it into the news besides a passing line on an evening report.
Biomonitor screamed at me as my heart rate was approaching dangerous territory. I have to breathe.
And now I have to follow where her body is taken, or what remains of it.
It would be a waste not to.
I made a distressed face and remained in place until the firefighters arrived to spray down the charred remains of what was.
In the next ten minutes, the body was extracted, and with a determination based on Gloria Martinez's insurance, her body was sent to a Night City municipal hospital further out from the city center.
One hundred feet from the emergency paramedical service company she worked at.
Datapads they were using were tricky to extract data from, but it has been done.
Knowing the hospital, I need not rush and chase them. David could not arrive sooner than I have.
I called up Delamain and got to a nearby sidewalk.
This area had great coverage, and it arrived within four minutes.
"Thank you for using Delamain taxi services. Would—"
"Shut up and drive."
"Of course."
As I silently rode there, I tried putting on a worried smile, trying to make this new face act most sincerely in the reflection of the car door window.
It may have been the time since the operation, but it looked wrong. Vik did a great job.
David needs a father figure. I need to start slowly, give him direction. Maybe I needed an older face for that.
A notification popped up. Sasha.
I'll read it later. Cannot lose focus.
Soon enough, I got there. A destitute hospital sponsored by taxpayers. Silent and gray corridors full of people who are regularly chased off here when they cannot find a place to sleep.
Even then, it's never free.
I got in and looked at the fire escape plan to locate the morgue.
Getting there, I passed by a couple of doctors. Gold watch, huh.
Finding a bench near the entrance, I waited.
More notifications popped up from Sasha. I'll look later.
I felt the remains of stitches on my face to make sure it's good.
But what if this is Groundhog Day all over again? Is this SC? Could I have done it better? Less painful, perhaps?
It did not respond. I did tell it not to.
There is only waiting now.
After half an hour of waiting, a teen busted through the doors and looked around, searching for a doctor in a panic.
He was wearing home clothes, as it looked. A hoodie and jeans.
"Where? Where is my mom?"
A passing nurse lazily pointed towards the doctor's office.
"If you have a question, go there," she said, and then took some pill right there on the spot.
David went into an office, and forty four seconds later, he emerged with a doctor that guided him to the morgue, where he was asked to identify the body.
It took all but three minutes until he was out. Absolutely silent and looking at the ground. He held a paper in his hand notifying him where and when to pick up the remaining ash.
I approached him and placed a hand firmly on his shoulder.
He slowly looked me in the eyes.
"I worked with your mother. She was a great woman," I said in a somber tone.
"…yeah?" he asked, with his voice almost like a whisper.
"Let's go and eat. It's on me. Are you hungry?" I said firmly.
He looked back at the ground.
"I'm not hungry."
"A drink then?"
"…does it help?" he asked, clenching the paper in his hand until it crumbled.
I lifted my hand and began patting him on the back with force, making him buckle forward.
David looked back at me with confusion.
"My name is Rafael. You must be David. Your mom told a lot about you."
"…did she?" he asked, confused, with his vision unfocused.
"She also told me to take care of you if something happened. Let's go," I said and began walking away.
Now…
"…Wait! Why?" David said and began following me.
I turned my head and continued walking.
"I made a promise with your mother. I am fulfilling that promise."
He got interested and looked me in the eyes.
"What kind of deal?"
I continued walking. He followed. Perfect.
Quickly, I need to place an order for a Delamain pickup.
"The deal is as follows. I would take care of you if something happens to her. And she takes care of my only tía if something happens to me."
"What's wrong with your tía?" David asked.
"She was sick."
Sorry, Sprocket.
"Was?" he asked.
"She died a few days ago."
David got confused, but continued following as he descended down the stairs.
"Why would you then follow through on the deal? Are you retarded?"
"Gloria would have done the same."
It's a lie. She wouldn't care. In truth, she only cared about you, David.
David became silent until we reached the front entrance and passed by the registration and got out of the municipal hospital.
That moment, Delamain approached and the doors opened automatically.
"Please enter the vehicle."
David caught up and stood right next to me, and I pushed him forward.
He gave me a confused look.
"Get in."
He slowly approached and sat inside, where Delamain's fugly face popped up on the screen right at him.
"Welcome to Delamain taxi services."
"WHOAH!?" David exclaimed.
I approached and made a shooing gesture.
"Scoot over. Delamain?"
David quickly jumped to the leftmost backseat.
"Yes, sir?" Delamain answered.
"Shut up."
"Of course. Please enjoy the ride."
I got in and the door closed, then the car took off, driving along the busy streets of Night City.
David looked at the window, unblinking. His mouth slightly open as he stared at the streets and people passing by.
"Really not hungry?"
He turned back to me and nodded.
"Then you can watch me eat. I am starving out here."
We stopped at a moving restaurant location, where they served out on the streets.
It served various soups, mostly spicy. And its real-time location was worth a subscription of ten eddies per month.
Both doors opened, and I hopped out and approached the small empty table in the corner of the street, next to a group of cyber-ravers.
It was loud and messy on a Friday night, but what is better to get rid of the memories of that hospital.
I sat down and gestured to David to approach.
He sat down and began looking around curiously.
A waitress approached and I got to ordering.
The menu was in Chinese, and the translation chip offered a decent translation.
"Two bowls of spicy beef yang stew. And two beers."
The waitress nodded and her eyes flashed, transmitting the data to the cook station.
"Last chance, want anything?" I asked David.
He was startled and then began speaking slowly.
"Can I get uuuuh… a beer?"
"要冷的还是常温? Want it cold or room temp?" the waitress asked in Chinese.
David's eyes darted back and forth, confused.
"Cold."
I transferred the money and she nodded.
She walked away with David now moving around in his small plastic seat uncomfortably.
"You won't like it."
"What?"
"The beer. Just warning ya, you gonk."
"You'll see."
A minute later, the waitress placed down the bottles quickly and ran off to take another order.
I picked one up and opened it against the table, slamming the cap against the edge. I handed it to David.
He quickly took it and took a careful sip.
The next moment, he made a disgusted face and began spitting on the ground, trying to cleanse his mouth. His bottle tipped over and began spilling across the concrete below us.
"Pwah! What is this? Why even drink this?"
I opened another one and offered it with my hand extended across the table.
"Wash it down."
Without looking, he took it and got it close to his mouth, just to notice the smell and look up.
"THAT'S JUST ANOTHER BEER!?"
I began laughing as heartily as I could.
"It tasted better after the tenth one."
David became angry and began shouting at me, while I just laughed.
A plate of beef stew landed before me, and a second later before David. Two packs of chopsticks as well.
I quickly leaned over and began sliding his bowl to me over the plastic table.
"It's mine."
I began eating and noticed that he was staring at the untouched bowl, quickly averting his gaze as soon as I tried to catch him.
But the Kiroshi optic doesn't need the iris to be pointed at the subject to see.
"You said you weren't hungry. Besides, you won't like it."
"Why so?" he said and picked it up and began drinking it straight from the bowl.
"It's—"
His eyes opened up and he felt the burn.
"…spicy."
He began to panic as his eyes began to water.
"ARGH!" he yelled out, prompting nearby people to turn and laugh. Especially the old man in the back, who almost choked himself from laughing.
"Water please!" I yelled and tossed a bottle from a neighboring table full of ravers.
"'Preciate it!" I said and took a little sip. Big chance they might have drugs in it.
My internal analysis of the contents by my new stomach showed that it was almost normal water, with traces of fecal bacteria. Which was normal for Night City.
I offered it to David, who was almost on the ground from the spice, and he gulped it down within seconds.
"Sadistic piece of shit!" David protested.
"Watch it," I said calmly.
At least now he looked alive.
I began eating again, and with a few minutes of waiting, David began talking.
"Can I get something to eat too?" he asked meekly.
I smiled as gently as I could and gestured to a waiter.
He is just a kid after all.