Night City

With my vision, I noticed a man approaching us. Although I was contemplating the scenes of the city, I didn't forget to keep an eye on my surroundings – an old habit. Wait, a habit? Usually, that is typical for the living, at least that's what I think.

"Here is your escort," Henry said, pointing to a man in a formal suit.

"I will accompany you to your destination," he responded simply. I extended my hand as if to greet him, but he just looked at me strangely and didn't respond. Clenching my hand, I lowered it. Doesn't he want to greet a robot?

"Well, I still have a lot of work to do, so good luck to you, Matthew," the doctor said and quickly walked down the corridor.

My escort didn't say anything, heading straight for the exit. Have all people lost their manners? Nevertheless, I followed him. As soon as we passed through the automatically opening doors, I finally saw the world with my own eyes. And, let's just say, I had mixed emotions.

It seems that people of the future have completely lost their sense of taste. The clothing on many was simply atrocious. Why would someone wear a pink tank top and neon pants with holes? Or have a different skin color? I don't understand what happened to human taste in clothing. I'm not a big fan of fashion, but even I find this terrible. The streets were filled with people, each uniquely modified: some with glowing eyes, some with metal limbs, and some didn't have human skin at all, having replaced it with something utterly unimaginable.

Time flows on, generations come and go, but damn advertisements will always be plastered everywhere they can. Skyscrapers with shimmering advertising screens towered on every corner, offering everything from implants to artificial entertainments. Holograms projecting half-naked models and purchase prompts flickered everywhere, blinding and annoying.

The driver opposite me was dressed to the nines in a perfectly pressed suit. He spoke little, or rather, he didn't speak at all. He drove the car, following all the rules and not exceeding the speed limit. The car itself didn't particularly surprise me: yes, the design had changed, but the general features remained the same. Inside the cabin, there were no familiar buttons; all control was carried out via an interface.

Night City was the first city of the future that I saw. I have nothing to compare it to, but what I have already seen is enough to say: almost nothing has changed. People remained the same, but now they just inserted various pieces of metal into themselves. I still doubted whether I was needed in this time, perhaps I should start thinking about my shutdown. To be honest, I still didn't see much sense in living. The only thing I really want right now is to find information about my family, hoping that I can somehow help them. At the end of my life, I left them with almost nothing. I had little money in my savings accounts, I hadn't bought any stocks or real estate, except for my main house.

Error.!"?;;№""Й(№";..,??***

Suddenly, interference appeared before my eyes, and my body began to convulse. Through the visor, I saw my hand flailing involuntarily. My consciousness couldn't gather itself. What kind of malfunction was this?

System restored.

They said everything was fine with me, so where did these malfunctions come from? Am I supposed to live like this until the end?

"Hey, I hope you didn't fry your circuits. How about you don't die while I'm supposed to be escorting you, okay?" my escort finally asked, showing his "politeness." Wishing me dead when he's not around... wonderful.

"Don't worry, I'll take you with me," I said, not intending to tolerate his arrogant face. There were plenty of these types in my time too. How many of their verbal filth I had to listen to.

"Fz," he made an indistinct sound and turned away from me, driving on.

I already didn't like my life, just as before. Well, at least I don't have to get used to it. I hope I never see him again.

Returning to admiring the city, I tried to cheer myself up, but I involuntarily remembered the last time I admired the views. My sad reflections were interrupted by the car slowing down. Looking ahead, I saw a barricade: two police cars were standing in the middle of the road, and several officers were standing in front of them with weapons at the ready. One of them, noticing the stopped car, approached the driver's window.

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My driver immediately opened the window.

"What happened, officer? Why is the road blocked?" he asked.

"None of your business, turn around and get out of here," the officer didn't stand on ceremony and immediately showed him his place. Then he noticed me and stared for a few seconds. "Well, this smells like jail. Where did you get a Militech police cyberbody?"

The officer immediately became cautious, keeping his weapon at the ready. I noticed all these movements, having practiced similar scenarios many times.

"This is Militech corporation business, I'm their employee. If you don't want to die, step aside and let us pass," my escort said, not intending to lower his tone in front of the lawman.

"Whatever business it is, it's still a combat robot. Show the authorization documents," the officer insisted.

"You seem to have forgotten yourself. By tomorrow, you'll be scrubbing toilets and will forget about your job forever," my escort snapped back.

"I am an officer on duty, and you have already broken several laws. There is little stopping me from using my weapon," the officer said, aiming his gun at us. The corporate arrogance instantly vanished.

"I apologize, there was a slight misunderstanding. This is a new model I'm taking to the department for duty," my escort said, softening his tone.

"What nonsense? This autonomous cyberbody is useless, they are all being decommissioned. Why do we need another one?" the officer asked and was about to start a more aggressive interrogation when another officer approached us.

"Collins, what's going on here?" he asked.

"Captain, there's a police combat robot here," Collins said.

"Alright, let's see," said the officer, his eyes flashing briefly. "I see, everything is in order, there is information about its serial number, it's being assigned to us. Matthew Carrington?" the captain asked.

"Yes, that's me," I replied.

"So, you're a borg, huh? You should have said so, but why this model?" Collins remarked. "You must have been through a lot if they had to replace almost all your body parts."

"You guessed wrong, he's entirely made of chrome," said the captain, whose eyes were still flickering.

"How's that? Won't he go psycho?" Collins cautiously asked his commander.

"I don't know, ask the higher-ups. Our job is to follow orders," the captain replied.

"Got it," Collins said.

"And you? Right now, we have a group of dumb kids and idiots who decided to go on an adventure. They had the bright idea to rob an implant shop located near our station," the captain said, waving us off as he walked away.

"You heard him, you'd better leave," the officer said and also departed.

"Damn, what bad luck, now we have to wait," my escort said, hitting the steering wheel with his hands.

From his words, I understood that there was no other route. Even in my time, the police always acted cautiously, even against the most inept, if they had weapons. Even a monkey with a gun can shoot you if scared. Finding the right button, I opened the door.

"Wait, where are you going? You can't leave," he said, watching as I got out of the car.

I had been lying dormant for forty years, suffering in uncertainty, and now that I'm back in this world, why not do what I wouldn't have before? Rules always stopped a person from madness, but there are those who are willing to risk and break them. I was tired of living the old way; maybe it's worth trying something different.

"Just stretching my legs," I said, closing the car door.

Steel legs stepped onto the sidewalk, kicking up city dust. Looking around, I noticed onlookers beginning to gather in search of a show. This is something I don't understand about people. One bullet is enough to lose your life, so why, with your mouth open, walk toward your demise? How much easier it would be if we didn't have to set up blockades every time. From civilians deciding to satisfy their curiosity.

I walked straight to the blockade, with all the passersby stepping aside to let me through. Just as I was about to reach the police officers, someone yanked my arm. Turning around, I saw my corporate escort. He was clearly displeased.

"You need to get back in the car. You're Militech property," he said.

"Being property is the last thing I intend to be. I'd rather die again," I replied, pulling my arm free. Time to relive my youth.

I used to be a detective. Yes, our main job was to gather evidence of crimes, and of course, sometimes we had to shoot. But I wasn't always a sleuth. Like everyone else, I graduated from the police academy and started as a trainee, working my way up as an officer. Unpleasant arrests of all kinds of people, often having to ignore the foul stench of bodies, rummaging through places I'd rather not remember. Naturally, there were plenty of shootouts. Suppressing gangs, arresting dangerous criminals, and much more. We went through plenty of ammunition.

"Captain, since I'm joining your force, I'd like to participate," I said.

"Couldn't sit idle. Duty calls? I'd be glad, but sorry, bureaucracy is a thing. Until you're registered with the department, you're a civilian," the captain replied.

"Robots are needed to suppress armed criminals, so how am I different from them? Just one of many," I said, noticing a couple of combat drones near the building.

"Maybe so, but I don't know much about you. Forgive me, but I'm not risking my hide for a stranger. No hard feelings?" the captain said, extending his hand. "By the way, I didn't introduce myself. Roger Macken."

"Matthew Carrington," I replied, extending my hand but not squeezing his fingers, fearing I might crush them. I had already noticed how much stronger this body was.

"You seem quite reasonable. So why did you go for a full body replacement?" the captain asked.

"I had no other choice," I said.

"Maybe. I'm not ready to give up my living body, but it's not for me to judge. I don't know your story. Just know, we don't care how chromed out you are, but don't even think about catching cyberpsychosis and endangering your colleagues. Head straight to the medical center at the first sign of symptoms," the captain said. He mentioned some kind of cyberpsychosis multiple times. The doctor never brought it up. I'll need to find out what that is.

"Does this happen often?" I asked.

"A couple of times in the morning to wake up, one for lunch, and of course, a dessert in the form of a shootout with a gang. Every damn day," Collins said with a smirk. The other officers smiled; it seemed to be some sort of inside joke.

"They're joking. Night City is a crazy place. We can't keep up with everything. Too many people here want to grab a bigger gun and kill more people," the captain said, raising his hand to his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. He lit it and began to exhale the smoke. Damn, how I wished to feel that breath of junk again.

"I understand," I replied.

"Attention, two vehicles are moving from the southeast, heading straight for the fourth blockade," came the dispatcher's voice from the car. The captain's eyes flickered for a moment.

"Copy that. Everyone to combat readiness, disperse the civilians, take positions," the captain ordered.

The officers quickly opened their cars and started pulling out their weapons while the others were actively shouting, dispersing the crowd. As I said, it's as if they're eager to walk into their death. Panic and chaos ensued, leading to the logical conclusion—people getting trampled. The first to fall were already being ignored, trampled underfoot. Turning away from the sight I had seen many times over the years, I decided to watch the police work. To avoid getting in the way, I moved to the side, closer to the building. Usually, bandits start shooting at the cars, and there's a better chance of surviving if you stick close to the wall and lie down.

Taking standard positions behind the cars, the officers prepared to face the uninvited guests. The siren wailed at full strength. The corporate's car sped away, and it seemed he completely forgot about me. But that was fine; his company didn't bring me any pleasure.

Two cars burst around the corner, armed criminals sticking out of the windows. One of them had a huge metal tube resembling an RPG. I wasn't entirely sure, but my doubts were quickly dispelled when a rocket flew out of it, aimed directly at the blockade. As if on cue, gunfire erupted from all sides.

I heard the familiar whizzing of bullets, but there were other sounds too—unfamiliar to me, like buzzing or something similar.

Soon, the rocket hit one of the cars, causing a powerful explosion that tossed the police car like a toy. Even from a distance, it was clear it weighed a lot. The officer behind it was severely injured and lay motionless on the ground.

Indiscriminate fire from the bandits had already begun to result in casualties among ordinary citizens. The officers managed to stop the vehicles with precise shots to the tires, causing both cars to crash into the buildings on either side. Now it had turned into a cover-to-cover firefight. Their charge had failed. If they had broken through, shooting the police would have been an easy task, but now it was a positional battle.

I wasn't going to stay in cover any longer. I calmly approached the weapon lying on the ground and picked it up. Let's see what we have here. Looks like an assault rifle. Here's the magazine, the bolt, and the safety. It seems not much has changed in some weapons, or the police are poorly equipped. It's unusual for the magazine to be so close to the handle, and you have to hold it by the barrel. Hopefully, it doesn't heat up during firing, though there is a cover here. Looking at my metal hands, I realized the futility of my concerns.

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"Let's see what this body is capable of," I said, taking the weapon and magazine from the fallen officer. He clearly had a bullet in his left eye; no one survives that.

Removing the safety, I aimed and opened fire on the enemies. The first few shots hit one of the bandits, but he didn't die immediately. He quickly retreated and, putting something in his mouth, took cover. Damn, I emptied so many bullets into his body, and he's still alive? Noticing me, they returned fire. A couple of shots hit my armor, and I quickly ducked back into cover. It was a concrete column, and dust showered down on me. Inspecting the hit locations, I saw that the paint was only slightly scratched. This body is armored, after all.

Feeling more confident, I peeked out from cover and started suppressing their positions with fire. They immediately threw a couple of objects, which could only be grenades. With a long roll, I dived behind a parked car, quickly ejecting the empty magazine and loading a new one. Moments later, a series of explosions went off.

Time to fry these bastards. With this battle cry, I stood up again and began firing. With a final dash, I reached their car and, coming almost face-to-face with their positions, killed three of them. Their bullets futilely pinged off my body, ringing and scraping against the metal. One of them was still moving, trying to reach his weapon. I made a couple of confirming shots to ensure he stayed down. What tough people.

A quick magazine change, and I resumed firing at the remaining enemies. They now saw me as the primary threat, focusing all their fire on me. The rocket launcher appeared again; I didn't react in time, and the projectile rapidly headed toward me. In the last split second, I managed to jump to the side, but it wasn't enough, and I was thrown several meters, slamming into a wall.

The screen filled with interference, and a flashing message appeared:

Body integrity level reduced to 40%. Recommended action: proceed to the repair bay.

A list of damaged modules and their effects on the system followed:

Multiple module damages.

Right arm: 90% damage.

Left leg: over 80%.

Part of the right torso: 68% damage.

Visual modules: 30% damage.

Body mobility reduced by 70%.

Energy consumption increased by 63%.

The visual modules kept glitching as I got up. The criminals had forgotten about me and resumed their shootout with the police. Apparently, the fact that a rocket hit me was enough for them. Inspecting my body, I saw the right side was wrecked, with sparks and minor damages everywhere. My weapon was useless, bent beyond recognition.

Struggling to stand, I found I could lean on my left side. Fortunately, I had been thrown not far from the car of the gangsters I had killed earlier. Crawling to their bodies, I grabbed all the grenades they had, carefully tying them together. Now, I needed to figure out how to activate them. Finding something resembling a pin, I pulled it from all the grenades and threw the bundle with a strong toss. It landed perfectly at their positions.

A powerful explosion erupted, practically wiping out their positions from existence.