Cyberpunk 2077: Night City Lord

According to Vik, it would take anywhere from 1-2 weeks for the Neural Link to thread the connective linkages throughout my entire nervous system. 

The instant this process reached completion, all the other components of the Neuroport would boot up and come online. The old ripperdoc asked me to return for a checkup once this happened. But if I were to actually do that, I'd be returning to his shop in a few minutes. 

I didn't want to wait that long. I'd taken Regina's contact with plans to call her in a week. I wanted to be ready to act on any updates she provided by then. And as for whether she'd have anything for me, I was part hopeful and part certain, leaning slightly towards the latter. 

If I remembered correctly, one of Maelstrom's sources of income was illicit/extreme braindances or XBD's, as they were popularly known 

A braindance was in simple terms, a recorded and shareable experience. If those goons I saw were involved in yesternight's attack, there was a high chance that was their goal. To record the cyberpsycho's experience and profit of his plight and the pain and suffering that stemmed from it.

Just thinking about it made me fume. Anytime I thought this city couldn't get any worse, it took it as a challenge and dumped more shit on the mountain high pile that was my opinion of it. 

That revolting image aside, if my hunch was right, whoever Regina hired could track them through the gang's XBD sales if they were competent. With how much I was paying, they had to be.

Putting this matter on the backburner for a later time, I focused on the other, similarly important reasons for my willingness to consume this completion potion. 

At a low cost of 31 Soul Points, I'd finally be connected to the giant network that was the Night City Data Pool. I'd be able to make calls, browse the NET, and more importantly and relevantly, use the skillchips in my possession. 

Pushing aside the burning desire to pour the chrome colored liquid down my throat, I tightened my grip on my lighter duffle bag and waltzed into Misty's shop. 

As I entered through the side entrance, the blonde spiritualist turned sideways to meet my gaze. She then shot me a smile that somehow managed to look friendly and devious at the same time. The devious part was just me though… I think. 

For some reason, her smile always looked that way to me in my past life. And it seemed to have transferred here as well. Even now, as I maneuvered to stand in front of her counter like a customer would, I was getting an "I know all your secrets" vibe from her expression. 

In a sexy voice if I might add…

I dismissed those juvenile thoughts with a shake of my head and stopped right behind the counter, coming face to face with the woman who would unveil the secrets of the future to me. 

"We meet again." 

The blonde prophetess crossed her forearms over the counter and leaned forward. 

"Mmhm. How'd things go with Vik?"

I mimicked her and leaned on the barrier separating us. "Perfectly. Now I just have to wait."

She nodded and then asked if was interested in the consultation she mentioned. When I said yes, she listed off the services she provided and I chose tarot reading. 

She broke off eye contact and reached for something below the counter. "Bold choice, wanting to know your future."

I just shrugged. "What can I say? I like spoilers."

She smiled and, I don't know, grabbed a random card? How exactly did she do this stuff?

"Focus on the recent past and what you expect in the future."

With well hidden discomfort, I nodded and said, "Mmhm. Doing that."

The first card made a satisfying noise as she placed it flat against the countertop. 

"The Magician… Interesting. You are a conduit between heaven and earth, a unique convergence that gives you the ability to make your thoughts reality."

I wasn't frowning, but I was no longer smiling either. 

"Strength." She said and placed down another card, "Will, discipline and courage will not fail you in your chosen path if you stick to them."

My gaze remained impassive.

"The Emperor."

I watched her go rigid for a brief moment before she lowered this card. 

"The Emperor represents control, and is pleased with the power he has to shape the future. Your intentions may be pure, but so is the mountain of bodies you'll climb over to realise them."

Faster than she did before, she placed down the fourth card, and the image on it eased the turmoil that had begun to bubble within. 

It was a man in a suit and hat, sitting on a bike with the sun, all orange and massive, in the background. 

Misty's voice betrayed her astonishment at whatever the card "said." 

"The Sun… symbolizes success and a bright future. Trust your judgment and stick to your chosen path, and you'll overcome any obstacles that come your way."

The silence hung between us for a good minute, our gazes directed at the perpetrators. My gaze flickered and hovered on the Emperor card. Saying that its reading seemed to have made her uncomfortable would be an understatement.

I wondered what kind of thoughts were swirling through her head. I tried and failed to think of anything. 

Well… I did think of one thing—horror. How else was she supposed to process her own prediction about me climbing over a mountain of bodies? Trying to imagine a situation where she took it well nearly made my head hurt.

Locking eyes with the worried blonde once more, I offered her a genial smile and straightened myself, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Thank you for this… insightful experience. I've gotta go now. How much do I owe you?"

Seemingly recovered, the frazzled blonde returned the smile and waved the small of her hand. "No need for that. We didn't go all the way so it's okay."

I nodded. "If you say so. Can I use your bathroom?"

She nodded and pointed in a direction I promptly followed. Once inside, I made a show of reaching into my pocket and retrieved the Completion Potion from the inventory. 

Name: Completion Potion

Definitions:

1. Completes Neural Link threading in one minute. 

2. Speeds up and completes the physical and mental adaptation of recently implanted cyberware. 

3. No pain.

4. No side effects. 

Without much hesitation, I gulped it down, waited a minute and nothing… happened. 

Thinking that maybe the booting up wouldn't happen instantly, I exited the bathroom to say goodbye, only to find Misty engaged with a customer. Unwilling to revisit the weirdness between us or interrupt her work, I kept my footfalls extremely low and left the shop through the side entrance. 

I hadn't taken even three steps when some blue text jumped into my vision. 

SYSTEM SETUP… 34%

CONNECTING TO BASE PORT 209950

CHECKING NEURAL NETWORK DATA

CHECKING NEURAL CONNECTIONS

...

I was at peace when I died, but missing out on the many things I could never learn and do still stung. 

One of those things was owning a vehicle and learning how to drive. 

On just the second or… first day, if you want to be technical, of my new life, I'd crossed these two items off my bucket list. I was now the proud owner of a Chevillion Emperor 620 Ragnar and currently in the process of imbibing the knowledge and skill on how to operate it. 

Skillshards didn't grant instant or permanent mastery of the skills recorded on them. But their system modified variations–which I dubbed "Template Shards"– solved these issues in their entirety. 

Name: Template Shard–Driving +3

Definitions:

Instant adaptation.

Permanently and perfectly assimilate the designated skill after a set amount of practice and usage.

Displays the remaining amount of hours needed for complete assimilation.

Slotted in among others into my newly implanted chipware sockets, the template shard inspired my thoughts and drove my actions with the information stored on it. 

The chip and all skillchips in general, worked by using the neural signals recorded on them to activate a series of muscle reactions in whoever slotted them in. In essence, using a skillchip was a form of deliberate possession. 

You were handing your body over to the chip. All you had to do was think about using the skill and the chip would pilot your body and execute the moves according to the data recorded on it. 

And this piloting was unobtrusive. 

It meshed well with the user's thoughts and desires. If someone using a Karate chip wanted to perform a roundhouse kick while flinging a grenade, these two separate desires and actions would not interfere with each other in any way. 

The person would be able to execute both with no problem, just that for one of the actions, the knowledge and skill would originate from a removable source. 

This is the weakness I rectified. Despite their amazing nature, you couldn't retain not even an iota of the skill on a skill chip. According to the lore my enhanced mind had coughed up from its depths, the issue lay with programming constraints.

This instantly brought to mind Soulkiller, the program whose function was to wrench away the psyche, memories and personality of whoever was deemed unlucky or lucky–depending on how you look at it. 

I became intimately aware of the synthetic leather around the steering wheel as I tightened my grip. 

'Fuck me…'

Is this how Alt created Soulkiller? By studying reflex chips? Or were reflex chips the result of corporations' long-standing desire for a way to create loyal and compliant subordinates enmasse? 

Given the nature of Cyberpunk, I was inclined to believe it was the latter. But I didn't want to assume. Maybe reflex chips were created because corporations wanted a way to obtain a large number of people with combat skills in a short amount of time. 

Cognizant of how much this planet had been ravaged and ruined by war, I shook my head at that thought. Even in my mind the corporations could not justify their horrendous natures. 

Adding the thousandth reason to my "why they need to go" list, I eased off the accelerator and pushed lightly on the brake, straightening my foot but keeping my heel in place. 

With movements that became ingrained the more I practiced them, I maneuvered into a parking garage near my destination and parallel parked, smiling at the first time success and the memes that came to mind. 

For some strange reason, the number of women who could not parallel park were large enough that there were memes about them. 

Grabbing my duffle bag in the other front seat, I exited the vehicle, locked it and pocketed the key. After a short discussion with the parking booth operator and paying a small amount of eddies, I left the garage for my actual destination.

It was a gym, its outward appearance somewhere in the middle of a typical slum building and something you'd find in the city center. It looked like a place a corpo that lived from paycheck to paycheck would come to if they wanted to engage in fitness. 

I, on the other hand, chose it because it had showers. Water hadn't touched my skin since I awoke, and I'd been self conscious of this going back to when the super-soldier serum ran its course through me. 

I was sweating when I woke up, and after that I'd gotten into a few life and death situations, their sheer number still boggling my mind. Granted, none of them lasted even thirty seconds nor did they make me leak a single bead of sweat. 

Yeah. The SSS was crazy like that. 

Anyways, I wanted to take a bath. Especially since I'd been cut open and operated on. 

My plan here was to train for an hour or two and then hit the showers. 

With this in mind, I entered the gym, using my newly minted implants to trigger the door. I stepped through the double sliding entrance reassured of every decision I'd made till now and quickly found the receptionist. 

I paid the day pass rate and found myself a nice little corner with a heavy, hanging bag. Mind you, I'd never been in a place like this nor engaged in the sort of activities going on around me. 

But in this expansive space filled with individuals hitting bags and pads with their chrome limbs and moving weights even world class lifters from my world would have trouble with, I had a lot of inspiration to draw from regarding what to do. 

Before I started though, I sat on a nearby bench to change my attire. I still had my boots, cargo pants and vest on. Like I was alone in the room, I quickly changed into the training apparel I'd bought and stood up, enjoying the cold breeze.

Last but not least came the wrappings. 

Visible to no one but me, a video tutorial on basic gym etiquette played on the interface in my sight. It had been recommended to me when I bought the training clothes. They were the reason I had a towel, a water bottle, deodorant and some snacks in my bag. 

Back in the present, I brought the video back to normal speed when the scene changed to the hand wrapping guide. Mimicking the on-screen pair of hands, I unrolled the entire length of white elastic wrap, straightened my hand and went to work. 

Due to it being my first time, I took things slow and finished in about 3 minutes. Surprised by how comfy yet protected my left hand felt, I clenched and unclenched it repeatedly as I looked it over for any mistakes. 

Finding none, I applied what I just learned to my other hand, clenched and unclenched both of them a few times, and approached the bag, stretching my body and cracking my neck.

Apart from the Driving chip, I had Taekwondo, Boxing, Handguns, and Assault chips. 

I asked about skill chips in general at the weapon vendors when I offloaded the excess guns I got from the scavs. 

Apparently, they were easily obtainable if you knew the right place or the right person, with the most expensive ones costing the same as my Neuron. 

Needless to say, I had major plans to obtain more of them. Even though they could not make me or any other person a master in the skill they held, they were enough to make one competent. 

For instance, once I assimilated the boxing or the Taekwondo completely, I'd be the same as someone who'd just completed formal training, able to fend off a single, unarmed attacker. 

The thought sent a surge of excitement through me as I raised both fists up to the sides of my head, the boxing chip guiding my movements in response to my thoughts. 

I gave it into it completely, letting it dictate my posture, stance and even breathing. The sounds of my fists hitting the bag and my sharply exhaled breaths were a novel experience, one I found myself enjoying immensely. 

After laying into the bag for about ten minutes, I stopped and focused on the top right corner of my visual interface. 

...…

Driving: 4 hrs 32 mins

Boxing: 14 hrs 34 mins

Taekwondo: 14 hrs 44 mins

Assault: 7 hrs 20 mins

Handguns: 7 hrs 20 mins

...…

The Instant Adaptation definition had solved the issue of going through the days long period of getting a chip synchronized with one's body. All that remained now was the amount of time needed to permanently imbibe the skills.

When I first saw these numbers, I was shocked. I had been expecting days or even weeks. It was then I realised that assimilation periods might differ from person to person due to varying mental and physical aptitudes.

This quickly dispelled my surprise and reinforced the notion that this was the expected result of having that miraculous serum running through my veins. 

Calculating how much time I had left before the meeting with the realtor, I exhaled and adjusted my stance, raising my wrapped fists once more.