Chapter 141: Pain and Pleasure
And so, a strange cycle of "pain and pleasure" was formed.
The electric shocks brought intense physiological distress, but with every correct recitation, every new binary phrase understood, a sense of achievement derived from the brain conquering a hurdle—and the hope of being one step closer to saving his mother—welled up inside him.
He began to view the electric shocks as a harsh, but absolutely effective, "correctional tutor."
He no longer feared making mistakes; instead, he focused entirely on how to avoid them.
Like a greedy sponge, driven by the "lash" of the current, he frantically absorbed that obscure knowledge.
To an outsider, his state of study looked peculiar.
At times, his brows would furrow in deep concentration; at others, a fleeting look of joy would cross his face upon successfully parsing a complex sequence; and then, inevitably, his body would jerk violently from a shock, causing him to grimace and shake his head before immediately diving into the next attempt.
Sweat soaked his clothes. The mental exertion made him look exhausted, but the fire burning in his eyes for his mother remained fierce. Under this repetitive "tempering," that flame only became more condensed and resolute.
That afternoon, David had just finished a round of practice and was leaning against the wall, panting. Rebecca strolled over and tossed him a can of synthetic protein drink.
"Brain hasn't fried yet?" She looked at David's sweat-drenched hair. "Saw you twitching like a short circuit just now."
David caught the drink and forced a corner of his mouth up. "I'm okay. Fewer shocks than yesterday."
"Not bad," Rebecca squatted down beside him. "To take that kind of beating and not stay down."
Dorio walked over and placed a tube of nutrient paste down without a word. David nodded and stuffed the tube into his pocket.
Across the room, Pilar chipped in while calibrating his cyberarms. "If you ask me, this learning method is brutal enough. Pouring data directly into the brain, shocking on error... it's like debugging a machine."
Maine, leaning against a weapons crate cleaning his smart pistol, looked up at David. "As long as he can handle it." He then lowered his head and continued cleaning the gun.
In the corner, Kiwi and Sasha were debugging a set of sensor equipment. Sasha looked at David studying in the distance and whispered, "I don't get it. The Boss has trans-dimensional tech, yet he makes him learn binary language in the most primitive way."
Kiwi answered without looking up. "Why not just write the knowledge directly into his brain? Why force a bio-brain to do a machine's job?"
She tapped the sensor in front of her. "Transcoding with an implant takes milliseconds. Doing it this way... it's like using an abacus to solve calculus."
"Terribly inefficient," Sasha shook her head. "But the Boss must have his reasons."
Kiwi finally glanced up. "Maybe he wants him to understand the lowest-level logic first. Like learning the basics of a fistfight before installing combat chrome."
The two fell silent for a moment, continuing their work.
In this era of highly advanced technology, this "back to basics" training method had become the most baffling thing of all.
Falco returned from outside, carrying a bag of supplies.
He glanced at David, then silently placed two extra cans of synthetic drink in the food reserve area.
No one wasted words, but everyone expressed their acknowledgment in their own way.
In this abandoned bastion, this was the most direct form of care—not pretentious, not sentimental. Just like life in Night City itself: rough, but real.
Among everyone, Lucy's internal shift was the most subtle and profound.
Initially, she maintained her habitual distance from David.
Night City never lacked stories of struggle for survival. Her own past was heavy enough; she had no time to care for others.
But David's state of study—this day-after-day cycle between "pain" and "gain"—gradually drew her attention.
She watched how he quickly readjusted after a shock, how he precisely corrected errors in the next attempt, and how, when exhausted to the limit, he would simply look silently toward his mother's room, and his eyes would become sharp again.
She began to observe him inadvertently.
She watched the line of his tightly pursed lips, his fingers trembling from intense concentration, and the fleeting, almost imperceptible relief and satisfaction on his face after conquering a difficult point.
Lucy's past was filled with darkness, betrayal, and the fear of the unknown beyond the Blackwall.
To survive and stay free, she had endured pain unimaginable to ordinary people.
But David's persistence... his motivation was so open, so above board. It almost didn't fit the laws of Night City.
Just for family? To repay his mother's care?
This seemingly simple, pure motivation appeared so alien against the backdrop of Night City, yet so... attractive.
It touched a soft corner deep in Lucy's heart, one she had buried and almost forgotten.
Once, when David finished a high-intensity round of study and was leaning against the wall gasping for air, face pale and clearly drained, Lucy happened to pass by with a cup of water.
She paused, then held the cup out to him.
"Hydrate. Losing too many electrolytes affects neural transmission efficiency." Her tone remained flat, betraying little emotion.
David looked up in surprise. Seeing it was Lucy, he took the cup and whispered, "Thanks... I'll keep that in mind."
Lucy nodded, said nothing more, and turned to leave.
But in that moment, she caught something in David's eyes beyond fatigue and determination—a momentary daze and warmth sparked by this tiny act of care.
It made her realize that this boy, enduring inhuman pressure to learn, still retained the emotions and vulnerability of an ordinary person.
This realization only deepened her curiosity about David.
She still habitually stayed in the shadows, but her gaze lingered on David for longer and longer periods, often without her realizing it.
She wanted to understand where this power came from—this force that was seemingly simple yet incredibly strong, supporting this boy through a learning process that was a living hell.
David Martinez. What kind of person was he, to go this far for his mother?
For David, the outside world seemed to be walled off.
His world had shrunk to the extreme: the strict "tutor" in front of him, the roaring sea of binary in his brain, the intermittent electric shocks in his body, and the unextinguished lighthouse in his heart—Learn it. Cure Mom.
His path of apprenticeship was unfolding in a unique way: pain was the goad, hope was the reward, and the unwavering goal of saving his mother was the only beacon guiding him through this purgatory of knowledge.
On this road, he suffered, and he advanced. Every step was planted with solid weight.
(End of Chapter)