Thus, a peculiar cycle of "pain and joy" was formed.
The electric shocks brought intense physical discomfort, but each time he correctly repeated, each time he understood a new binary phrase, the sense of accomplishment from conquering a difficult challenge, originating from his own brain, and the hope of getting closer to saving his mother, would naturally arise.
He began to view the electric shocks as a strict, but absolutely effective, "error-correction tutor."
He no longer feared mistakes, but rather focused on how to avoid them.
He was like a greedy sponge, absorbing the abstruse knowledge frantically under the "spur" of the electric current.
His learning state appeared quite peculiar to outsiders.
Sometimes his brows were tightly furrowed from intense concentration, sometimes a fleeting look of joy appeared on his face after successfully parsing a complex sequence, and sometimes his body would suddenly tremble from an unavoidable error, making him grimace and shake his head, then immediately dive into the next attempt.
Sweat soaked his clothes, and mental exhaustion made him look weary, but the flame burning in his eyes for his mother remained strong, even becoming more refined and resolute under this repeated "tempering."
That afternoon, David had just finished a round of practice and was leaning against the wall, catching his breath. Rebecca sauntered over and tossed him a can of synthetic protein drink.
"Haven't fried your brain yet?" She looked at David's sweat-soaked hair. "I saw you shaking like a short circuit just now."
David took the drink and quirked his lips: "I'm alright, got shocked a few less times than yesterday."
"Not bad," Rebecca squatted beside him. "You haven't collapsed after all that torment."
Dorio walked over and set down a nutrient paste, saying nothing. David nodded and tucked the nutrient paste into his pocket.
At the other end of the room, Pilar interjected while adjusting his mechanical arm: "If you ask me, this learning method is pretty brutal. Directly pumping data into his brain, electric shocks if he makes a mistake, just like debugging a machine."
Maine leaned against a weapons crate, wiping his smart pistol, and looked up at David upon hearing this: "As long as he can handle it." He then lowered his head to continue cleaning his gun.
In the corner, Kiwi and Sasha were calibrating a set of sensor equipment. Sasha looked at David, who was studying not far away, and whispered: "I don't understand it. The boss can use trans-dimensional technology, yet he makes him learn binary language in the most primitive way."
Kiwi replied without looking up: "Why not just write the knowledge directly into his brain? Why make a biological brain do what a machine should do."
She tapped the sensor in front of her, "Transcoding with an implant only takes a few milliseconds. This way… it's like solving calculus with an abacus."
"Terribly inefficient," Sasha shook her head. "But the boss must have his reasons."
Kiwi finally looked up and glanced: "Perhaps he wants him to first understand the most fundamental logic. Like learning to fight by practicing basics first, instead of directly installing combat cyberware."
The two fell silent for a moment and continued their work.
In this era of highly developed technology, this return-to-basics training method had, ironically, become the most perplexing thing.
Falco returned from outside, carrying a bag of supplies.
He glanced at David and silently placed two extra cans of synthetic drink in the food storage area.
No one said much, but everyone expressed their approval in their own way.
In this abandoned stronghold, this was the most direct form of care—unaffected, unsentimental, just like life in Night City itself, rough but real.
And among everyone, Lucy's inner changes were the most delicate and profound.
Initially, she maintained her usual distance from David.
Night City was never short of stories of struggling to survive; her own past was already heavy enough, leaving her no time for others.
But David's day-after-day learning state, cycling between "pain" and "gain," gradually caught her attention.
She watched how he quickly adjusted after an electric shock, how he precisely corrected errors in the next attempt, and how, when utterly exhausted, he would just silently look in his mother's direction, and then his eyes would once again sharpen.
She began to observe him inadvertently.
She observed the tight line of his lips, his fingers trembling slightly from intense concentration, and the fleeting, almost imperceptible look of relief and satisfaction that occasionally crossed his face after overcoming a difficult point.
Lucy's past was filled with darkness, betrayal, and the fear of the unknown beyond the Blackwall.
She had also endured unimaginable pain for survival and freedom.
But David's perseverance, his motivation, was so… righteous, even somewhat out of place with the laws of Night City.
Was it merely for family affection? To repay his mother's nurturing grace?
This seemingly simple and pure motivation, against the backdrop of Night City, seemed so alien, yet so… attractive.
It touched a soft corner deep within Lucy's heart, a corner that had been deeply hidden, almost forgotten.
Once, after David had finished a round of high-intensity study, he was leaning against the wall, catching his breath, his face pale, clearly greatly exhausted, when Lucy happened to pass by with a glass of water.
She paused and offered him the glass of water.
"Hydrate. Too much electrolyte loss will affect nerve conduction efficiency." Her tone remained flat, without much emotion.
David looked up in surprise, saw it was Lucy, took the glass, and said in a low voice: "Thank you… I'll be careful."
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 fleeting moment of bewilderment and warmth, born from this small act of care.
This made her realize that this young man, enduring inhuman learning pressure, still retained the emotions and vulnerabilities of an ordinary person.
This realization deepened her curiosity about David.
She still habitually stayed in the shadows, but the time her gaze lingered on David unconsciously grew longer.
She wanted to understand where this seemingly simple yet incredibly powerful force came from, the force that supported this young man in enduring such a "heavenly and hellish" learning process.
David Martinez, the kind of person who could go this far for his mother, what kind of person was he, really?
As for David, everything external seemed to be isolated.
His world had shrunk to the extreme: the stern "tutor" in front of him, the roaring binary sea in his mind, the intermittent electrical sensation in his body, and the never-extinguishing lighthouse in his heart—learn it, cure mom.
His apprenticeship was unfolding in a unique way: pain was the spur, hope was the reward, and the unshakeable goal of saving his mother was the only beacon guiding him through this purgatory of knowledge.
On this path, he was in pain, yet he was also moving forward, each step incredibly firm.