Glenn, the Cyberneticist whom Osiris once criticized for his "unstandardized techniques," made a decision that left Maine's crew speechless yet was entirely expected after Gloria's condition barely stabilized and she was out of critical danger—he almost immediately moved his clinic, "Thousand Needles," along with its mountain of suspicious second-hand equipment and bottles, to the Wasteland Town.
Facing the questioning gazes of Maine's crew, Glenn rubbed his hands, a professional, slightly unctuous smile plastered on his face, and gave a high-sounding reason: "Mrs. Martinez's condition is very complex and requires continuous professional observation and meticulous care! Traveling back and forth from the city would be too detrimental to the patient's recovery.
I, Glenn, always prioritize the patient's health! Moving the clinic here is a testament to my responsibility!"
But Maine and the others knew exactly how loudly this guy's ulterior motives were clanging.
They had privately mentioned to David that the reclusive boss possessed incredible technology, and theoretically, as long as one could afford an unimaginable price, completely healing damage of Gloria's severity was not impossible.
Glenn had clearly caught onto this information and wanted to use the excuse of caring for Gloria to shamelessly stay in the Wasteland Town, fantasizing about one day encountering the boss and exchanging his "tuition fees"—which he had saved for an unknown period and might be scrap metal in the face of truly high-end technology—for a bit of knowledge that might slip through his fingers.
"This old fox, his abacus beads are practically bouncing off my face," Rebecca commented bluntly, watching with cold eyes and folded arms.
However, she didn't forcibly drive him away.
After all, although Glenn's techniques were crude and his concepts outdated, he still had some practical value in handling common street gunshot wounds, cybernetic malfunctions, and basic maintenance, saving the team a lot of trips to the city.
—
When Osiris completed his interdimensional transfer, the sound of his footsteps, far heavier than when he left and mixed with unique metallic friction and precise hydraulic sounds, once again echoed deep within the wasteland workshop.
The external environment he perceived was significantly "noisier" than before he left.
The outpost not only gathered the original members of Maine's crew but also included a silent white-haired netrunner girl, an anxious boy forced into the streets to pay for his mother's medical expenses, a semi-paralyzed mother immersed in pain and self-reproach, and a clumsy Cyberneticist who had joined out of speculative motives.
The heavy metal door of the workshop slowly slid open with a muffled whoosh of air.
Osiris' imposing figure, noticeably larger, covered in dark red dragon-scale power armor, with a new type of plasma reactor on his back emitting a low hum and a faint blue glow, suddenly appeared at the doorway, almost filling the entire frame.
In an instant, the previously subtle conversations and activities outside the workshop ceased abruptly.
All eyes were involuntarily drawn to him, and the air was filled with a nearly frozen shock. The old members of Maine's crew, like Maine and Dorio, despite having witnessed the boss inhuman nature before, still had their pupils slightly contracted.
They could intuitively feel the immense power contained within that body, far surpassing what it was before, and the cold, inhuman sense of oppression that was almost palpable.
The complexity and craftsmanship of that armor completely exceeded their understanding of "cybernetics" or "exoskeletons."
Rebecca subconsciously opened her mouth, her green cybernetic eyes quickly focusing and then slightly unfocusing, eventually just muttering, "Woah…"
Even she felt an indescribable awe.
The newly arrived Lucy's body imperceptibly tensed for a moment. Her eyes, accustomed to hiding behind indifference, widened slightly, quickly scanning the armor filled with an alien beauty and absolute sense of power, as well as the steadily glowing blue energy core. A flicker of pure curiosity about the unknown creation passed through her eyes.
And David, the boy new to this place, was so awestruck by this invisible pressure that he almost forgot to breathe.
He looked at the iron giant, as if from ancient myths. As the crimson optical sensors swept over him, he felt as if he was being seen through, inside and out, by some supreme being. A shiver, a mix of fear and insignificance, rose from his spine.
Even Glenn, who was agonizing over tuition fees nearby, temporarily forgot his predicament, his mouth unconsciously agape. As a Cyberneticist (albeit a clumsy one), his instinct made him try to understand the technical principles of the armor, but his brain ultimately went blank, leaving only primitive awe and bewilderment.
Osiris' crimson optical sensors calmly swept across the outer area of the workshop, like the most efficient scanner, instantly capturing, classifying, and archiving all these new "variables" and the frozen expressions of shock on their faces.
The chaotic scene and emotional fluctuations before him caused a faint warning signal, representing "increased environmental disorder," to flash in his processing core, but it was immediately overridden by a higher-level logic process—these biological emotional responses and visual interferences were not worth wasting his valuable computational resources.
Glenn almost scrambled forward, his face full of fawning and uncontrollable eagerness, incoherently expressing his desire for "further study" and his willingness to pay "reasonable tuition fees."
Osiris' crimson optical sensors didn't even focus on him. A cold data list was directly projected onto Glenn's visual interface, accompanied by a flat synthesized voice: "Knowledge has its price."
The list clearly stated:
Basic Neural Interface Standardization Implantation Protocol - Exchange for: Fully functional, unregistered prototype neural processors x 2
Anti-infection Treatment Process for Bio-tissue and Cybernetic Junctions - Exchange for: Unknown alloy samples with abnormal biocompatibility (no less than 1kg)
Intermediate Trauma Emergency Treatment and Organ Temporary Maintenance Protocol - Exchange for: Intact limbic system tissue samples from individuals with severe cyberpsychosis
...There were a dozen or so items in total, all techniques Glenn dreamed of, capable of significantly improving his clinic's level and income. But the items required for each made his heart sink.
These were not standard goods that could be bought directly with money, but "special materials" that required delving into the heart of the black market, venturing into forbidden zones, or obtaining them from dangerous factions.
Glenn's brain raced, calculating how many hidden channels he would need to open, how much life-threatening risk he would have to take, and ultimately how much it would cost in eddies to acquire these items.
A rough estimate showed that the "cost" of fulfilling this list alone would be nearly 500,000 eddies, not including the immense, unquantifiable risks involved.
He froze in place, his lips trembling.
Knowledge was within reach, but the price was that he might have to gamble everything.
Not just his savings, but also risking his life to collect these high-risk items of unknown origin, ultimately binding himself completely to the chariot of this mysterious entity.
The color drained from his face instantly, his lips trembling, but he couldn't utter a complete syllable.
He might barely be able to gather this sum by emptying all his savings and selling all his equipment, but that would mean everything he had accumulated over a decade of struggling in the Watson would be reset to zero. He might even incur heavy debts, having to work desperately for many years to repay this "tuition fee," essentially selling himself completely to this mysterious entity before him.
He froze in place, his heart caught in an unprecedented, fierce struggle.
The burning desire for knowledge consumed his reason; the techniques on the list seemed within reach. But on the other hand, the fear of losing his freedom and bearing heavy shackles made his feet feel like lead.
He wanted to learn, he wanted to learn so badly, but the price was staking his entire present and future... The expression on his face fluctuated wildly between greed and fear. The previous eagerness sizzled as it was doused with the cold water of reality, yet it hadn't completely extinguished, only transforming into painful indecision.
"This old sly dog," Rebecca whispered to Pilar from the side, arms crossed, gloating, "I think his CPU is about to burn out."