Playing the Part

"Your acting abilities are impressive; what else are you going to do? Pay her bills?"

The Borg, formally known as Adam Smasher and commonly referred to as 'Oh shit, he's coming for us!' has some pointed comments regarding your interactions with Gloria Martinez, having been forced into the role of a backseat spectator through Arasaka's internal security apparatus.

"Forgive me for not asking you for advice on women, Smasher, considering I just had dinner with your ex and her husband."

His cybernetic eyes shift, crimson pupils splitting into two, as his face takes a more tarantula-like form, the gears and mechanisms behind his faux-face thrumming, mouth splitting open in a silent hiss of displeasure, a visual sign of his annoyance in lieu of an actual response.

If you were anyone else, he'd have smashed you into a wet pulp of bone, flesh and perforated organs, but you're an Arasaka heir, so he swallows his tongue, remains silent, and restrains his desire to murder you.

Yeah, that's right, take that L; nothing Adam can do at the moment can bring down your high.

You aren't one to rush important things, and not because you often procrastinate into doing nothing until someone else does your job for you, but because you know that there are some things money can't solve.

You can't buy your way into Gloria's graces, regardless of desperation; the offer of eddies would only arouse suspicion and fear, especially if a stranger is the one to do it. Night City is no place to accept seemingly-charitable offers from others.

Instead, you'll have her enter the Company under the auspices of her qualifications to earn a better living and lifestyle from her hard work; she'll reap the fruit of her labours, blind to the web she has fallen into of her own accord.

Your role was to facilitate this opportunity through ignorance, as you are a spoiled silver spoon who felt guilty for ruining her chances at gainful employment.

Now, you'll let her enjoy her new job, restore confidence in her own self-worth, as well as being able to continue paying not just David's tuition but perhaps start to defray that ever-mounting debt as well.

Then, you will strike again, chiselling away with emotional bombardment at the walls of accrued distrust and maternal dedication until you can worm your way into her heart and home, all for that one final hilariously debauched end goal.

Making David call you dad.

Huh, maybe you are a bit insane, but this isn't the time for a bout of deep introspection, no, it is time to focus on your plans.

Said plans hinged on your official position in the Company being taken at face value and not treated with suspicion greater than a disapproving view on nepotism; as such, you entered the workforce, buoyed with the early successes of the day and eager to do something more…productive.

That productivity was found in reading over already signed and completed documents within Arasaka's Human Resources department, adding your newly established position's stamp to certify their authenticity, and then, everything was done according to company specifications.

Said specifications had been drafted, drawn up, and approved a mere three days prior, barely sufficing the requirements for a 'paid job'.

It is neatly and carefully boxed in away from the attention of corpos that, no doubt, would report you for gross delinquency at some point, despite the off-putting location of your cubicle next to all those pains were taken to ensure it wasn't a difficult work environment for you.

An automated system was already doing your job before you arrived, leaving you with the sole task of ensuring, at the end of the day, ticking "select all" and a green checkmark before leaving to go home to your new apartment.

You can't say you weren't disappointed; you had hoped for something with an actual purpose, but in hindsight, you doubt Michiko or Saburo wanted you to have a meaningful impact on the Company, treating your desire to play-pretend as just that, larping.

Not even the documents you claim to read and certify are of any importance; work orders and air-conditioner replacements for the eighty-first floor are hardly the Dove's renewed bureaucratic offensive for control over the Tower.

Your co-workers, having quickly cottoned on that your position was due to nepotism and that, like the sons of many high-ranking Corporate officers, existed merely to accept a salary and distract you from utter hedonism, were quite put out by your attempts at forming a working relationship.

These sorts of kids usually up and leave a few months in; the efforts of wearing a suit prove too much for their lithe and pampered frames.

Their disdain for you is not entirely unfounded, though, since they'll need a new barista machine after your attempts at using the manual controls.