16 Chapter 8 (Part 1)

A week later.

Another morning in this "wonderful" world began with me trying to force myself out of a soft bed. I've been living in this apartment for a week now, yet I still can't get used to it. I slid off the wall-mounted bunk bed and shuffled barefoot towards the shower. The water turned on automatically as soon as I stood under the sensor panel that read my body's biometrics.

"Alright, now I'm definitely awake," I muttered, slapping my wet cheeks to chase away the last remnants of sleep. I still needed to finish my recent work on creating my first software daemon. An extremely useful thing, especially if you need to safely neutralize some chrome-packed freak. People mindlessly implant themselves with gadgets that can turn against them in a blink. Convenience is nice, but safety should always come first.

Now, I'm trying to develop a technical analog of personal ports with Susan, which would allow me to become a full-fledged citizen like everyone else. Without a personal port, you're considered a savage, whom others simply refuse to serve. Many of civilization's benefits would be unavailable to me, and while I could live with that, there's a big "BUT!"

In the future, I plan to set up a small workshop somewhere in Santo Domingo. The area is rife with constant shootouts, and a good technician would find work there. Of course, this isn't an immediate goal, nor even in the next five years. Just more plans for the future that might never come to fruition.

The shower had a drying system that immediately blew a wave of warm air over my body, similar to a hairdryer. Handy, but my hair still remained damp. Glancing at my wristwatch, I shook my head in annoyance. I was up too early again; Sue's place doesn't open until eight. I didn't want to wander aimlessly for another hour and a half.

I shuffled back to the table where I left my VR goggles last night, grabbed them, and lay back down on my bed. Yesterday, I almost finished designing my PDA, which would replace my cyberdeck. It's not hard to assemble, the main challenge is transferring and adapting the software to the device itself. The idea came to me after recalling a pocket computer from a well-known game. Of course, it would be far more technologically advanced than mine, but that doesn't mean I'll stop improving.

But then other problems emerged. The biggest issue was the bulkiness of the device. I have a working prototype model that was already assembled in a virtual simulation and showed stable operation, but the overall look of the "Pip-Boy" was disheartening. It weighed about a kilogram and looked too massive on my childlike wrist. I need to somehow stretch it along the entire arm, so now I'm considering arm implants, trying to draw inspiration from their design to find a solution. Arm augmentations varied in several types: offensive, auxiliary, and engineering.

Offensive arms were designed for one sole purpose: to neutralize an opponent. However, some implants did this a bit too radically. The mere sight of monowire or mantis blades hinted at their life-ending capabilities. While I had no complaints about the monowire, I found the blades utterly absurd, both from an engineering and practical standpoint. It's much easier to disarm a fool with mantis blades than one with monowire. With the former, you just need to not be afraid of their altered limbs, but the latter could whip you with a laser whip from up to 6 meters away. Getting into a fistfight with them could lead to serious injury, or more likely, death.

Auxiliary implants were more for workers of various kinds. They varied depending on your line of work and were strictly beneficial. They're often used by ripperdocs, technicians, builders, and many others. Such upgrades are expensive, with some models costing as much as a decent car. It's not uncommon here; I've often seen ads on the local net for another pricey implant that could cost a significant sum. They're usually installed in corporate clinics, which offer chrome on credit, thereby binding another augmentation-obsessed idiot into a form of indentured servitude.

And then there are the engineering implants. These literally turn you into a walking assembly line, allowing a person to become a jack-of-all-trades. Some ripperdocs, who deal strictly with the mechanical parts of the body, install them to perform more delicate manipulations than auxiliary implants allow. Engineering augmentations are incredibly expensive and can only be ordered custom-made. Three firms handle their sales in Night City: the Americans - Militech, the Japanese - Arasaka, and the Soviet Union - Sovoil. Each maintains a roughly equal quality level, not lagging far behind each other. Of course, there are many minor differences between their implants, but generally, they're not very noticeable. The Chinese company Kang Tao is also trying to catch up with the big three, but they're currently having some issues with their production lines, so no news from them yet.

"You awake?" Marco nudged me gently.

"Need something?" I turned off the goggles' visor with a mental command and turned my head towards the teenager standing beside me.

"We need to talk, let's go for a walk," the Latino gestured towards the closed door.

"Alright, just give me a moment to get dressed."

Stretching, I reached for my clothes neatly folded on the bed's side shelf. This design was quite clever as it saved a lot of space. We were still kids, and two rooms were enough for us, but as we got older, it wouldn't suffice.

Marco was waiting for me on the staircase landing, staring out the window with a stony expression.

"Ready?" I caught the teenager's attention as I stepped outside, bristling in the cold morning air.

"Sure," Ramirez nodded and, hands in pockets, slowly started to descend.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" I finally asked as we stepped out of our apartment building.

"Let's not talk here," Marco shook his head negatively, suggesting that it was better not to chat in this place. This meant the topic was really important to him. Eventually, we headed to our usual spot for contemplation.

Sitting on that very rooftop, one truly feels a certain lightness of thought, and important questions naturally arise in your mind. Sitting on the brick ledge, legs dangling, we continued in silence. More precisely, Marco was silent while I just waited for the teenager to gather his thoughts. He didn't torture me with his silence for long.

"Alex, can I ask you something?" The boy turned his head towards me, looking into my eyes.

"Go ahead," I shrugged, curious about what serious thing the teenager wanted to ask.

"What should I do?" The youth leaned back, propping his arms on either side.

"Can you be more specific?" I raised an eyebrow expressively, not grasping the essence of his question.

"Well, in general," Ramirez waved his hand uncertainly, trying to articulate his thoughts, "I want to leave your group soon."

"You want to dump the responsibility for the others on me?" I immediately understood the boy's hints, who tried not to mention it directly.

"Um... well..." Marco laughed awkwardly, scratching his cheek with a fingertip. "Yeah, basically." He guiltily lowered his head, avoiding my gaze.

"Okay." I closed my eyes and laid back completely, feeling the cold concrete beneath my head.

"You're not angry?" The Latino asked in surprise.

"Not at all..." I quickly sat up and turned towards him. "Marco, you've already done enough for them. You might think otherwise, but listen. You've taken care of the kids for a year and taught a bunch of them everything they needed to survive on the streets without starving to death." I smiled encouragingly at the boy, who lowered his gaze to the ground, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Maybe you're right," the teenager laughed awkwardly. "I just wanted to leave in a couple of months and wanted to ask you to take care of them."

"I still need care myself," I brushed off his words, knowing he was overestimating me. "I'm a child, Marco, and no matter how smart you think I am, I'm completely dependent on Susan right now. It's only thanks to her that we're still making it in this world, you know?"

"You know, Alex, talking to you, I never felt like I was talking to a child. Yes, you don't know much, but your actions and assessment of your own capabilities say otherwise," Ramirez patted me on the shoulder with a friendly smile.

"Where do you plan to go anyway?" I shook my head slightly and asked another important question to the teenager.

"I've been thinking about settling in Santo Domingo for a couple of years, then see how things go from there."

"Huh, fools think alike." His response amused me a bit. We were indeed thinking along the same lines. Arroyo is a decent place to live, certainly better than being near the Maelstrom. The 6th Street gang, though a bunch of freaks, at least maintain some semblance of 'principles' that prevent them from openly wreaking havoc on the streets. These 'comrades,' from what the guy has told me and what I've found online, give off a mixed vibe. On one hand, they're a group of radical nationalists, on the other, just thugs, only more numerous.

"What are you talking about?" Marco asked, puzzled.

"Just thinking out loud. I want to move there in about 7-8 years. The numerous factories and their production capabilities will be very useful to me in the future."

"Still planning to create that cyber armor, huh?" The teenager understood. "Well, it's your call," Ramirez groaned as he got up and slowly headed towards the staircase. "Let's go home, it's too cold to sit here."

We returned home in silence. There was nothing to talk about, and neither of us felt like it. Everything that needed to be said had been conveyed, and Marco didn't like to beat around the bush. The others had already woken up. Everyone was busy with their own thing. Shiro and Han were disassembling parts they'd scavenged yesterday, while Kivi, with a bored face, was cooking for everyone, occasionally glancing at the screen of a small TV mounted on the wall.

The girl was watching some medical show where two clowns dressed up as doctors argued about the harms and benefits of implants. To me, it seemed like another corporate gimmick, playing on contrasts to lure people. Those who were hesitant to buy something would focus on the positive points to justify getting new chrome, while those initially against it would remain in their opinion.

I recently learned about a group of people practicing a local variant of Buddhism. They believe augmentations hinder the achievement of 'enlightenment,' which is the goal of their religion. This belief could actually help make my cover story more believable. Sure, the story would be a bit far-fetched, but it's better than a person appearing out of nowhere without a single implant in their body and refusing to get any.

I could feed everyone a story that my parents practiced Buddhism, and I, like any teenager, rebelled against their beliefs, but not completely. These are still far-off plans that could change at any moment. I don't even know what might happen to me tomorrow, let alone something as distant as several years ahead.

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A/N: Thank you all for the support. If you want even more chapters, please send some power stones – it's very motivating!