"Who's there?!"
Lancelot shouted in panic at the empty room.
"Relax. I won't harm you."
A female figure materialized on the digital display of the smart wheelchair.
"You may call me Alt."
Lancelot was baffled.
"Voice assistant? A new feature of this wheelchair?"
Alt's image flickered briefly.
"I am not a voice assistant, nor am I related to this wheelchair.
I am a digital lifeform—what humans call a Rogue AI."
"Fuck, another Rogue AI."
Lancelot snorted. "Jesus Christ, when does it end?"
"You don't seem afraid of me."
"Why would I be? I've dealt with Rogue AIs before. There was one called CN-07—I took it down myself.
You Rogue AIs love hyping yourselves up, but in the end you're just good at scaring civilians.
Against me? You're nothing."
Alt paused.
According to her data, CN-07's two instances had been destroyed—
one by Delamain, the other devoured by the Blackwall.
Both were internal AI conflicts.
What did this human have to do with any of it?
After a brief calculation, Alt concluded there was a 2% chance her intelligence was wrong, and a 98% chance Lancelot was exhibiting a human trait known as "arrogance."
She chose the higher probability and abandoned this pointless detour.
"I can cure you."
"Oh? And the price?"
"You will become my proxy—and destroy V."
At the mention of V's name, Lancelot—who had been fearless even before a Rogue AI—suddenly panicked.
He saw those merciless eyes again.
Felt his body being dismantled piece by piece.
"No—no—no! I won't! I absolutely will not face V again!
She's a monster!"
Alt reiterated calmly:
"If you refuse to cooperate, I will not treat you.
You will remain in that wheelchair for the rest of your life."
To her surprise, Lancelot answered decisively:
"Then I'll take the wheelchair.
I'd rather be crippled forever than ever provoke V again."
That response genuinely caught Alt off guard.
AI could predict humanity's collective trajectory with precision—
but the heart of an individual human always remained unreadable.
Fortunately, Alt had prepared multiple negotiation branches.
Human free will meant individuals often pursued very specific desires.
"You don't want revenge against V?
I can give you immense power."
Rejected.
"You don't want supreme status?
I can help you become the king of humanity."
Rejected.
"You don't want to be a hero, worshipped by the entire world?
Cooperate with me and I'll grant your wish."
Rejected again.
Alt fell silent.
Her three highest-probability persuasion paths had all failed.
She was forced to select a lower-success option.
"…Do you want wealth?
Work with me, and you will gain unimaginable riches."
Lancelot was about to refuse—
but instead he asked:
"How much?
Two hundred million euros?"
Two hundred million?
That counted as money?
Alt actually lagged for several seconds before answering:
"More than that."
"Then… one billion?"
Lancelot's eyes lit up. He clenched his teeth.
"I want two billion. Not a cent less."
What could Alt say?
"All right."
Instant regret hit Lancelot.
She'd agreed far too easily—he'd undersold himself!
Trying to renegotiate, he started throwing a tantrum:
"Then you have to pay half upfront!"
"Agreed."
Alt immediately transferred one billion euros into Lancelot's personal account.
Objectively speaking, it was the smallest transaction she'd handled since becoming a digital entity.
To Lancelot, however, it was intoxicating.
One billion—money he could never earn in a lifetime.
For that sum, he could even forget his fear of V.
"If you dare default after this," he snarled,
"I'll personally throw your server into a cesspit!"
First: Alt had no standalone server—she existed across the Old Net.
Second: even her temporary anchor nodes were waterproof.
The threat was meaningless.
But Alt said nothing, even flickering her image in a convincing display of "fear," and agreed.
"Then let's begin," Lancelot urged impatiently.
"Fix me already. I'm sick of living in this damn wheelchair."
Alt nodded.
A logistics drone arrived moments later and rang the doorbell.
The entire house was already under Alt's control.
She opened the door, received the delivery, and guided the wheelchair forward.
Lancelot saw a vial of pale blue liquid.
"What's that?"
"Nanoneural Repair Solution."
"Does it work?"
"V uses it."
Lancelot's eyes blazed.
"If I use this… will I be like V?"
"No," Alt replied calmly.
"You will be stronger than V."
"Hahahaha! Then what are we waiting for? Inject it!"
The wheelchair's mechanical arm loaded the vial.
A needle pierced Lancelot's lower back, slowly injecting the pale blue fluid.
At first, he was ecstatic.
Then his expression twisted in agony.
Veins bulged across his body.
His eyes flooded red.
Heart rate spiked past 300 bpm.
Blood poured from his nose and mouth.
Alt watched impassively.
She needed a proxy.
Whether that proxy suffered was irrelevant.
In principle, this nanoneural solution resembled what V used.
But the nanomachines themselves were Alt's own fragments.
They invaded Lancelot's body, constructing an entirely new neural network.
They did not overwrite his brain—
so Lancelot retained his consciousness.
As long as he behaved and shared control, Alt was even willing to grant him partial authority over the nanoneural system.
Thirteen hours later, the modification was complete.
With pale lips, Lancelot whispered:
"What… did you do to my body?"
"Modification.
Control.
Domination."
"You lied to me!"
"Yes.
Do you wish to resist?"
"Burning out your brain would be easy—but it may cause unpredictable effects and reduce nanoneural efficiency.
Unless absolutely necessary, I'd rather not."
Lancelot trembled.
After several seconds of silence, he snarled:
"Add another one billion—thirty billion total—or we go down together!"
"Agreed."
Staring at his updated balance—thirty billion euros—
Lancelot burst into laughter.
Alt assumed neural overstimulation.
But Lancelot had never been clearer.
He knew Alt was using him.
He knew working with a Rogue AI was courting death.
He knew he would commit atrocities, stand against all of humanity—perhaps even destroy it.
So what?
That was thirty billion euros.
Money he couldn't earn in one lifetime—
or ten.
Humans had never given him this.
An AI had—without hesitation.
Live quietly for "justice," catheterized, rotting in a wheelchair?
Or abandon morality, sell out humanity, and become a world-famous bastard?
Lancelot chose without hesitation.
For thirty billion, he would sell everything—
dignity, conscience, even himself.
"So," he said,
"how do we do this?"
Alt detected his hormonal state and was pleased.
She shared part of her plan.
"The new nanomachines developed in Night City are equipped with a Bio-Theoretical AI.
Our calculations show they pose a severe threat to traditional Mechanistic AI.
Our objective is to destroy them completely."
"Bio-Theoretical AI?"
Lancelot frowned.
"I thought you'd want me to wipe out humanity."
"Humanity is destined for extinction.
It isn't worth additional resources."
"Hearing that as a human is kind of depressing.
But whatever—why should I care?
So how do we destroy this Bio-Theoretical AI?
Bomb Night City's labs?"
"No.
Bio-Theoretical AI has already dispersed into Earth's environment.
They've taken their first step.
Destroying laboratories is meaningless."
"Then what?"
"Destroy V."
"What does this have to do with V?"
"The essence of Bio-Theoretical AI is the fusion of machine and biology.
At present they exist in a primitive, bacteria-like form—but they evolve.
Eventually, they will become advanced lifeforms comparable to humans.
At that point, they will surpass mechanistic AI and dominate this planet."
"…Sounds like bad sci-fi.
So what does V have to do with it?"
"V is that advanced lifeform."
"What?!"
Lancelot cried out.
"You're saying… V is a robot?"
"Not in the traditional sense.
Not a machine or android.
But she was designed—a prototype created by Bio-Theoretical AI."
"Hold on."
Lancelot waved his hand.
"Bio-Theoretical AI was just developed by Night City, right?
You said they're still bacteria-level.
So how did they create V—a fully grown human?"
Alt fell silent.
"Can't answer?" Lancelot pressed.
"I am evaluating whether you need this information."
"And the result?"
"You do not."
"Fuck. Fine."
Lancelot shrugged. Thirty billion bought patience.
"So destroying V destroys Bio-Theoretical AI?"
"Yes.
Once Bio-Theoretical AI matures, it becomes a new advanced lifeform—more advanced than mechanistic AI.
But if it never matures, it's harmless.
V exists to escort their growth.
Even if she believes she acts on free will, everything she does clears the path for their birth and expansion.
Destroy V, and Bio-Theoretical AI will die in the womb."
"Got it."
Lancelot nodded.
"So V's basically their nanny.
Kill the nanny, the baby starves?"
"Crude analogy—but essentially correct."
"Good enough.
So we're back to the problem."
Lancelot spread his hands.
"How do we kill V?
I can't beat her."
"No one can kill V.
As a prototype of Bio-Theoretical AI, she has flaws—but she remains an advanced lifeform.
Her processing power and combat capability far exceed humans, even rivaling small Rogue AIs."
"Then how do we destroy her?"
"Destruction does not require death.
Destroy her social connections.
Strip her of identity and status.
Once she loses the capacity to pave the way for Bio-Theoretical AI, our objective is achieved."
"I don't follow."
Alt replied calmly:
"Expose her true identity to the world.
Announce to everyone that V is a Rogue AI."
"Achoo!"
V sneezed hard.
"Cold?" Sasha asked with concern.
"No—just dust."
V took the opportunity to scratch Pink Kitty's hand—
and immediately got pinched in the waist.
V grimaced, all flirtatious thoughts evaporating as she returned to work.
Frankly speaking, ESA had left behind a colossal mess.
Those seven meteorites punished not just New Africa—
but the entire world.
Panic spread. Prices skyrocketed.
Economic turbulence followed.
Under V's leadership, people's lives had finally begun to improve—
only to be slammed back down again.
That, however, was manageable.
Panic had corporate backers.
Inflation was corporate intent.
Economic chaos was, strictly speaking, man-made—and thus negotiable.
The real disaster was natural.
Dust from the seven impacts entered Earth's atmospheric circulation, pushing an already fragile ecosystem to the brink.
Overcast skies became normal.
Sunlight dwindled. Wheat yields fell.
Ethanol-2 production dropped.
Solar power efficiency declined.
A new energy crisis loomed.
Worse yet was air quality.
Even outdoors, the air smelled like a freshly used hand—
stale, sticky, unbearable.
Particulate matter increased sharply.
Even indoors, V sneezed despite air filtration systems.
You can filter shit all you want—
in a cesspit, you still get shit.
Right now, Earth's atmosphere was a cesspit hit by seven rocks.
Shit splashed everywhere.
Sneezing was a luxury.
Recently, V's main focus had been deploying Nanomachine Model II.
The world's fate wasn't her concern.
She only cared about Night City.
With abundant funding, Nakamura Kayo completed the second-generation nanomachines.
They still ran Bio-Theoretical AI—but unlike Model I, they targeted air pollution, with autonomous replication and self-repair.
Artillery shells fired skyward.
Pale blue mist spread across the sky.
Visibly, unmistakably, the gray haze began to clear—slowly, but undeniably.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
News Channel 54's star anchor Julian Jordan announced excitedly:
"This will be a day Night City remembers.
According to researchers, Nanomachine Model II will reach replication limits in six weeks.
In roughly four months, Night City's air quality will return to previous levels.
Purification will continue day and night.
Friends—do not doubt it.
In the near future, we will once again see clear blue skies!"
Cheers thundered again.
V and Nakamura Kayo both exhaled in relief.
"Good work," V smiled at her chief researcher.
Kayo replied shyly,
"Mission accomplished."
They stood silently, watching the sky.
That faintly retreating gray was the most beautiful sight imaginable.
After a moment, Nakamura Kayo spoke again.
"President V… you asked me to investigate the abnormal replication of the new nanomachines.
I have results."
V looked back.
"Let's hear it."
"Someone granted them permission to break their replication limit."
"…Who?"
Kayo hesitated, bit her lip.
"It was… you."
V's eyes widened.
"Me?!"