Go. Food.
My head felt light each time it repeated those words. It was not unlike a feeling of sleepiness. Slow waves of fatigue washed over me as I wanted to rest my head just a bit longer.
Consume. Energy.
Telling the difference between my own thoughts and what it said was strangely hard, needing to go over it twice after each time it spoke.
I stood up slowly and looked over my lower actuators, those…
Oh right, my knees are just regular. That's strange.
I looked towards the pile of protein bars instinctively.
Consume.
"Can we communicate again?" I spoke up, to fully distinguish my own thoughts.
Try.
"Are you the one named Search and Copy?"
Search and Copy.
"Let me get specific. Are you the same entity I spoke with before?"
My head felt awful and my eyelids closed against my own will.
Yes. Consume.
I stomped my foot on the ground to regain balance. Right, so far its only words were about benefiting us both, and I don't think I can go without food just out of spite for the entity.
I grabbed a few and unwrapped them, eating them slowly, making sure it would digest properly.
Is this food fitting? Or should I be consuming something specific to fuel its activity?
Glucose. Protein. Amino acids. Iron. Magnesium. Iodine. Zinc.
Those are the things needed for healthy growth and activity of neurons and neural tissue.
Maybe a more balanced diet is due. Reducing the amount of processed food is troublesome. But Night City isn't exactly famous for how healthy its population is, or anything positive for that matter.
My mouth stopped eating in confusion, and then I forced myself to swallow the last bite.
I don't know what neurons need. Did that get injected into me?
"Voice? Was this you?"
No response.
"Function?"
Copy.
"Copy what? You did say copy yourself, and they… what does it mean?"
"Be specific. You said this is your body? Why were you a function with a human body?"
There was a long silence as I tried making it talk again, but it faded completely.
I have so many more questions. But…
God damn, I am hungry. Hungriest I have ever been.
I need to buy some supplements as well. Glucose. Amino acids. Iron. Magnesium. Iodine. Zinc.
Protein is covered, but intake of the others is severely limited due to my diet of sometimes getting a meal in the street, not focusing on its contents.
Getting glucose is tricky, most likely forcing me to ingest sugar. Maybe carry little packets from now on.
Bar after bar, the insect mush was filling my stomach and I felt a need for water as my head rang.
That's right, I need to drink as well.
I got out a bottle of real water, which was a luxury I got myself lately, and gulped the whole thing down in one sitting. The price of 99 eddies per gallon was manageable if I rationed it.
Then, back to eating. I need it.
Another one. I feel famished.
Another one. Still feel empty.
Maybe a little more.
Then a call rang. Sasha.
I answered, expecting something related to the slate production for my ICE. Not that strange that Yoko relays news like that.
Opening another protein bar, I opened my mouth to bite off a chunk.
"Hey. Why don't you respond?"
Her tone was strangely worried.
"To what? Did I miss something?"
I quickly opened the messages and saw eleven messages and three missed calls from Sasha piled up. I put away the protein bar.
"Just saw it. My notifications interface must've glitched out."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, why do you ask? All I did was not answer for…"
"Three and a half hours."
"What? That doesn't…"
I looked at the time. Almost noon. That is strange.
Then, looking down, I saw an insane mess of empty packages of protein bars. Twenty? Thirty? I must have almost none left.
Wiping my mouth from the food, I shifted my attention back to the call.
"I'm coming over."
"Huh? Why and how?"
"I tried asking you for alternatives, but your gonk behind did not respond."
"You don't even know where I am."
"Nuh uh. Check this."
Loud knocks rang across my barren and now trashed room as the door shook with each hit.
I gritted my teeth in anger and stood up from the couch.
"SASHA! Did you fucking track me? Don't try to go inside!"
"Your mine is connected to the local network. I already disabled it. Open. Up."
Sasha's voice now doubled, from inside my head and from the door.
Looking over the mess and myself, this was totally not the way to greet a guest. But how did she even get here? Can't be… Over_there_indicator.exe is running. It's still in quarantine, yet it is still running.
"I pranked you. One. Single. Time." I said while shutting the call down. No need for it now.
The door opened slightly and Sasha slipped in, hopping over the doormat with the mine under it, the door closing behind her loudly.
Slowly looking over the squatted maintenance room, Sasha made a surprised face.
I stood up and faced her.
"Let's get this over with."
"It's nice."
I looked over the piles of dirty clothes, trash, and a small couch with a singular lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.
"You don't have to lie."
Sasha walked over and plopped down on the couch, sweeping away the empty packages near her.
"I've seen way worse," she said, putting one leg over the other.
"What do you want?"
She gestured with her finger for me to come closer.
"I'll stand here."
Sasha began slapping the couch next to her without speaking.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
She continued without changing the rhythm.
"Oh my god. Okay."
I sat down and turned to her as she placed her hand on her chin and tilted her head, making her bob haircut shift to the side.
"What's our deal?"
"You mean what's your deal, breaking in…"
Sasha placed her finger over my mouth.
"It's not your place anyway. Answer the question."
I swept her hand away slowly.
"I don't know. I hoped we would avoid the question until it sorted itself out. Not the best approach, I know."
"Is this because I couldn't go with you yesterday?"
"Zero correlation."
"Just say you wanted to hang out and got upset."
Sasha said, turning to me with her entire body.
"No. Yesterday I just got back here and fell asleep. Sure, hanging out would be better than my sleep tonight, but it's fine. Just fine."
"That sounds an awful lot like being upset."
"Go fuck yourself."
"You do it."
"Huh?"
The next second I was being pounced on, pushed down by my shoulders.
Sasha leaned over me and looked me in the eyes, blinking slowly. Fuck it.
I countered and tried to reverse our positions.
Grabbing her forearms, I pushed her towards the back of the couch while twisting. She is light, being made mostly of cyberware. And there was not much resistance.
A second later I had succeeded. Now I stared at her, positions reversed.
"Well?" She almost purred.
"You know, I am really good at holding myself back."
"And?" Sasha smiled, twisting on the couch.
"My stomach is upset and I need to puke. Right now."
I rolled off the couch and fell to the ground, trying to stay still and rest my disrupted stomach. I ate way too much.
But alas, it was too much movement.
I puked right in the middle of the room until there was nothing left but a stomach acid burn in my throat and mouth.
In the corner of my vision, I saw Sasha lean in and pat me on the back gently. Thank you.
"You blew it. You had a chance, and you blew it."
I stood back up.
"Not in the mood, seriously."
"Well, me too now."
"What the hell was that?"
"I saw you ogling me since the first day we met, Caelen. I thought you were in the mood this whole time." Sasha traced her body in her netrunner suit as she spoke.
"If you must know, I try really hard not to stare. I used every technique in the book to focus on other things, but you don't make it easy."
"You can. I don't mind."
"Is your permission just for staring? Or can I just pounce and fuck you whenever I want as well?"
"So rude."
"I thought we were just hanging out before, but now I know."
"I guess you do. Need help with that?"
I turned and picked up a rag to wash away the vomit. So much money wasted.
"It's fine. What's gotten into you? I swear to all that is divine, I will delete that malware you installed into my system."
"No. What's gotten into you? I thought with your own ICE being released in the coming days, you would be a bit more cheerful. Being rich and all."
"Ah, you wanted to swindle me," I said, carefully washing the puke away.
Sasha fully lay down on the couch, watching the ceiling.
"I have no need for your money. I have plenty of my own. Actually, I was doing a gig yesterday."
"Was it fun?"
"I was in the chair the whole time, but the gig was interesting."
I turned.
"Something weird?"
"Securing net structures in Westbrook for religious guys. They paid really well."
"Don't tell me. Is it the church where they reject modern technology?"
"Yeah, what about them?"
"Sasha, I would advise you to never do business with Tech Orthodoxy. Hell, running with mercs again would be safer."
"Any special reason, or are you really against the religion?"
"Oh, they tried to publicly convert me while jamming signals and threatening me with a borged out bodyguard. Probably tried to kill me also. And possibly killed my friend a few days back."
I think this summary is somewhat right. No need to tell her that I tried to spy on them first.
Sasha fell into thought. I continued cleaning.
"Good reasons. Fuck them. Any plans for them?"
"In time, yeah. I'll let you know."
I finished cleaning and gathered up the garbage.
Hunger returned.
"Let's go?" Sasha asked.
"I have places where I need to be today. Are you free in the evening?"
"If you must ask. I am now, yes."
Walking past Sasha, I opened the door to the outside.
"Want me to give you a ride? I'm heading to Edgenet."
Sasha stood up and smiled.
"Preem. Actually, my house is not that far from there. Can you drop me off there?"
"If you tell me how to delete that malware, sure."
"You have to earn the right to delete it."
I rubbed my eyes.
"That's a little more than a prank, you know."
"I did warn you. You started a war you cannot win. Besides, it has features I would like to keep."
Like tracking me down to the building. But her having it is not too scary.
"Let's get down."
Sasha raised her eyebrows and her mouth opened to make an obvious joke.
"Not like that. To the car. It's amazing."
"Sure. Let's go."
…
"I also took the liberty of making sure the dataslates of Blue ICE are blue," Yoko said as a matter of fact, showing off a small case with ten copies of test production.
I took one out and twisted it in the air. It looked slick and compact. Rough edges protruded as bits of the plastic were made of transparent dark blue.
"You mind if I test it? What type of hardware security does it have against copying?"
"Go ahead. Top of the line. Wouldn't want my future cash cow stolen by a bunch of subpar deckheads."
I inserted the chip into my neck slot and, before even trying to boot it, tried to circumvent the surrounding structure.
After a few minutes of poking around, I gave up. I just don't have the skill set to crack it. I'll trust Yoko on this. Ejecting the slate, I twisted it in my hand again.
"What do we do on the price?" I asked.
"Let's start with a nice round ten thousand eddies. Easy to count the profits."
I recoiled.
"Start?"
"Well, it has to ramp up as more people buy it. Sense of urgency and all."
"I thought it would be way lower. Decent ICE is sold at around nine thousand, is it not?"
"Those are not outlawed. You practically crammed everything a person needs for their security into a single package. And then made it all work without additional chrome. It would be weird if a beginner didn't go for your stuff."
I pointed a finger at myself.
"I did?"
Yoko nodded in confusion.
"Now that you mention it, there were a couple of problems executing the self modifying code and predictive defense protocols. Those did call for things I didn't have. I needed some implants for those? I just redid them."
Yoko grabbed her head and began pacing slightly.
"Fuck. I should have gone for fifteen."
Will I be dirty, rotten, filthy, stinking rich? Just this box before me is worth north of one hundred thousand eddies.
Sasha was right. It's not that far off that I will become a rich motherfucker in the near future.
"When can we start selling?"
Yoko turned back.
"Well, if you open your eyes, we have our first batch ready."
I blinked a few times.
"Perfect."
I placed the chip back, and Yoko swiftly closed the case and put it under her counter.
"Now to another matter. Could your contacts make me a very specific identity?"
"Like stealing one?"
"More like a long lost nephew of a woman who died recently without an heir."
"You'll have to speak to them directly. You must come to them anyway. I sent you the details. Be careful with them and act respectfully. What is important, tell them that Wakako sama sent you."
Following that, I got coordinates to a location nearby.
"Does she know she sent me? I really wouldn't want to make a mess."
Yoko adjusted her glasses.
"Wakako sama does know. And that means you will get the best service there is."
"Thank you, Yoko. And I'll spend the first money I get here."
"Damn right."
Getting out, I felt hungry again. I have some time to stop by a shop or two. Not too much.
The voice is still not speaking. No matter. Surely it will return at night. It said it woke up. I want answers.
…
After the healthiest snack I could find, I finally headed to a place that was surely a base of operations for Tyger Claws, but I doubt much trouble is expected.
Besides the place being in Little Japan, where they are in active war and the whole district is a daily hellscape.
Driving there, I passed by outposts of NCPD as well as Tyger Claw clusters deep in the alleyways between buildings, their gaze following me with every turn.
Following the directions, I arrived at a building that appeared to be just a small time office building, but the cars and bikes near its entrance said otherwise.
Parking slowly, I had not even gotten the opportunity to step out as a man covered in tattoos approached, separating from other people near the doors.
He tapped on the glass, all the while shifting his half robe to reveal the handle of his katana.
Slowly, I pressed a button to roll down the window.
"Your business?"
"Wakako sama said to come here."
The man looked distrustful, but he turned around and glanced at the others near the entrance. Maybe a respectful way to send a message.
"Wait here."
I sat, looking around and scanning the cars. I noticed some of them had poorly fixed bullet holes and cracked windshields. Things are really tough if they have them out like that in public.
Sprocket perfected fixing bullet holes by using some paste I never cared to inquire about, then painting over it perfectly.
Shit. She would probably charge gangers triple just for the colors used on the car.
A few minutes later, the man returned slowly and made a slight bow in front of my window.
"Follow me."
Yoko sure has friends in high places.
Killing the ignition, I stepped out and followed the man. I considered making small talk, but the environment inside changed my mind pretty fast.
As soon as the door opened, I saw no less than twenty men and women with weapons sitting on couches near the entrance. All dressed brightly, as if this were a nightclub.
The entire space was crammed with things and people. Most were relaxed and listening to music, but there were shrine like areas as we walked past. Those were clean and had incense burning.
Some traditional paintings hung on the walls, I think Chinese and Japanese.
People gave me side eyes, but I doubt not being Asian is enough to provoke aggression. They are businessmen at heart.
One half naked tattooed guy sat menacingly behind a glass door in a samurai pose, eyes closed, with a glowing katana before him. A thermal variant, much more deadly than a gun at close range. Maybe I'll get one of those as well.
I'm hungry.
Eventually, I was led to a somewhat secluded area with a sliding door.
My guide stepped aside and gestured with his head for me to walk inside.
"Thank you."
The door opened and I was met with a netrunner's den, as expected. In the age of technology, those would be the people to make an identity.
「うるせえな,さっさと失せろクソどもが!」
Fuck. I should get a translator installed.
"Nice to meet you as well."
From behind one of the server racks, a skinny bearded man in his fifties emerged. He immediately frowned at me and switched to English.
"And you are?"
"You make identities? I came for one. Wakako sama sent me."
After hearing the name, he perked up and his face relaxed.
He walked fully out and his tone changed.
"Oh, a friend of the Lady of Westbrook is a friend of mine."
Yoko said to use Wakako's name, but now I'm one hundred percent sure I will need to clear up any misunderstandings if they find out I never actually met the woman.
"She is a friend of a friend."
He stumbled slightly as he cleared a nearby desk, uncovering a touchpad keyboard.
"More than I can say for myself. What's your name?"
"Like, my current one or the one I want?"
"Oh no no no no. We are just starting that process. Sorry, I'll introduce myself. My name is Shoto Tanaka."
He said that and extended his hand for a handshake.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Jacob Échelle."
He smiled slightly.
"I'm sure we can find you a more fitting name, no offense."
He turned back to the computer, opening tabs and connecting to servers. I recorded as much as I could.
"What are we doing?" I asked.
"You need to tell me what you want first."
"Are there options?"
The man looked annoyed for a second, then returned to a friendly demeanor.
"There is a misconception that identity is all about data, but it's really a legal issue at heart."
"Meaning?"
"Making an identity is perilous. Reappropriating one is more sensible."
"About that. Is this all confidential?"
He looked offended.
"You have plans to poison a meal we share together?"
"Not something I do, no."
"It's a metaphor. We gain nothing by exposing our operation. One less trail is one less headache."
I stood there as the man engaged with Night City records, looking through missing persons.
"About that, there is one recently deceased woman, and the state plans to take all the inheritance because there are no relatives on record."
"Oh, standard scheme. Simply diabolical. But harmless. Night City will just auction off anything left. But wait."
"Hmm?"
Well, it's not entirely inaccurate.
"How rich are we talking? Because at some point there might be three or four lost nephews claiming to find their grand aunt only after her death."
"Not that wealthy, I think. That happens often?"
"Did like twenty of those during my younger days. My baby face made investigators less suspicious. Had this whole story of escaping an orphanage in NUSA and hitchhiking with the nomads. Anyway, send me the information."
I quickly wrote up a document and sent it, Shoto Tanaka's contact popping up.
He pulled out his personal link and inserted it into a port on the computer.
"Easy money. Fresh corpse."
It's fine. He doesn't know.
I walked slowly to get a better look as the man scoured the documentation. I saw official forms from Night City Corporation, reports and confirmation of death, and a brief mention of an autopsy report.
Then he turned suddenly.
"You probably will need to get a tan."
"I'm not looking Cuban to you, Shoto?"
"Oh no, you are as Cuban as it gets in my eyes. It's just that others might not think the same."
He stopped and stared blankly, his eyes flashing blue.
「クソッ.ちょっと待ってろ.」
He dropped everything and exited the room quickly, leaving me with all the servers and a computer with admin access open.
This feels like a setup.
After a quick look around, I ran a simple ping. The whole building lit up, revealing turrets, cameras, and around forty people across the building, including the basement.
The basement was particularly interesting, revealing a barely readable figure of a person lying in a netrunning chair.
I saw Shoto Tanaka move toward the entrance and heard commotion and the sound of motorcycles revving away.
Well, if they are that busy, I can surely take just a peek. Just not anywhere that netrunner can notice.
Fuckers from NCPD didn't contact me about the autopsy as they promised. Bureaucracy. This might be my only chance to look at it.
I walked up, scrolled back up, and opened an official autopsy report performed by REO Meatwagon.
Liver condition, blood vessel condition, no defects noted. Useless.
Scrolling further down, I noticed pictures attached, noting and showing implants and their condition. Removed.
I bit my lip until it bled. Fuck. It's probably a regular procedure, but still.
Scrolling through, I noticed a slight comment on the picture where they removed her hands.
"Between the seams, found remains of dry blood that does not match the deceased."
Whose blood is it? Which fucker? Do they have a base of genetic material to cross reference? When I find that lowlife scum son of a…
The next second, the floor door flew open as the half naked tattooed man from earlier rushed in, pausing for a second after seeing me using their computer.
「今すぐ出ていけ.」
I did not move, but the man slowly took out the thermal katana and activated it.
Fuck.