Chapter 8 - Unsettling Realisation

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For the next hour, I found myself absorbed in Gabriel's litany of workplace frustrations.

In the kaleidoscopic whirl of cyberpunk realities surrounding us, his complaints struck a peculiarly "normal" chord. It made me pause and reflect on my previous notions of what this world was all about. In hindsight, why shouldn't there be routine concerns like these even in a world steeped in neon and shadow?

Not everyone was destined to be a scav, ganger or cyberpsycho waiting to happen.

In fact, the overwhelming majority of people were just that—ordinary folks trying to navigate the challenges of daily life. It's a universal constant, something that has remained unchanged through the aeons.

The sudden confrontation with this mundane reality felt almost jarring.

My exposure to Neon Dragons, largely through gameplay videos and countless hours of other online content, hadn't prepared me for this.

In the game, your character was constantly embroiled in high-stakes drama and conflicts, leaving little room to ponder the everyday lives of virtual citizens. Gameplay emphasised experience points, driving players to engage in actions that, while perhaps lethal, would maximise gains—think scavenger hunting, but with literal scavs that are shooting at you.

Yet, sharing these quiet moments in the domestic life of Sera's family jolted me with a realisation: This was no mere game anymore. Perhaps it had never been one to begin with.

This was a fully fleshed-out, breathing world teeming with life in all its complexities.

People here coexisted in a precarious balance, wedged between towering corporations waging invisible wars in clandestine boardrooms and predatory scavs eager to murder and strip you of your cyberware. Add to that a perennial undercurrent of gang conflicts, turning borderlands between their individual territories into danger zones, and you get a world that's as perilous as it is vibrant.

Yes, this world was palpably real, and I was now a small part of its intricate tapestry—a tapestry woven from countless threads of ordinary lives, just like Gabriel's, all striving for survival in a landscape as mesmerising as it was merciless.

"Ah, thanks for lending an ear, sis. Feels like a weight lifted, you know?" Gabriel concluded, his voice tinged with an appreciable measure of relief. As if finally having the mental space to observe new things, he looked at me with renewed interest.

"Wow, you're looking miles better than yesterday. Guess a hearty meal and solid sleep works wonders, huh?" He quipped, delivering a gentle fist-bump to my shoulder, his laughter warm and infectious.

'Oh absolutely,' I thought with a hint of irony. 'The culinary marvels of a street vendor and the plush comfort of a thin foam mattress atop a metal frame are clearly the cornerstones of my miraculous recovery.'

"Anytime, Gabriel! It's nice to hear about life beyond these walls, even if it's just stories from your job. I can't recall anything past this apartment, so every tidbit feels like a tiny adventure to me!" I responded, playing up my role as the amnesiac younger sister, yet earnest in my enthusiasm.

There was something effortlessly likeable about Gabriel—Sera's anomalously well-balanced and mature older brother. Whether it was his genuine kindness or his habit of putting my well-being conspicuously at the forefront of his actions, he quickly rose to be my favourite family member.

Being in his good graces wasn't a calculated move on my part, either.

Rather, I found his company genuinely enjoyable, and I wanted to preserve that. It was a peculiar sort of friendship, familial yet not quite so—for him, it was a sibling bond, natural and unconditional. For me, just getting to know him, friendship was the closest label that fit.

It then occurred to me: When was the last time I made a friend who wasn't merely an avatar or username in some distant time zone? It felt both surreal and immensely comforting, in a strange, yet familiar kind of way.

"So, what's been on your agenda all day? More physical therapy, I assume? And how's the noggin? Man, I've been going on about myself—I should've checked in on you first," he said, visibly chastened as he glanced down at the floor.

"No worries, Gabriel, really," I assured him, lifting his spirits. "Your life matters as much as mine does. Besides, you saw me up and about the moment you walked in. Had I not been in the kitchen, I'm certain you'd have gone on a search mission right away!"

I felt it was crucial to set this boundary, not just to correct his misplaced guilt but also because I needed a degree of autonomy. If I was going to leverage the G.E.M.A. System effectively, I couldn't afford to be under constant, very close, scrutiny.

"To answer your questions, yes, more rehab today. And if my sweat-drenched state isn't a clear enough indicator, it was quite the workout! As for my head, it's healing remarkably well. The wound has already shrunk significantly—guess it wasn't as bad as we initially thought," I reported, strategically planting the seed of doubt about the gravity of my head injury. I had no intention of sporting a spray-on bandage for a month under the pretence of "healing."

'Shower. Must remember to take a shower,' I internally reminded myself, suddenly cognizant that I hadn't bathed since waking from my coma—since arriving in this alternate reality.

Oddly enough, nobody had commented on my, almost assuredly, pungent state. Then again, the cyberpunk genre wasn't exactly known for its focus on personal hygiene, so maybe it made a twisted kind of sense.

"Actually, what were you doing in the kitchen anyway?" Gabriel probed, his voice echoing in the sparsely furnitured living room. "Were you feeling peckish? I could go out and rustle up something for you. We don't usually have any food at home, after all," he added, a light-hearted jest that momentarily froze my actions.

How was I supposed to respond to that? Admitting, "I needed a blade to harm myself," was definitely not an option here. The fact that he had confirmed the kitchen was devoid of food also eliminated that potential excuse.

My temporary silence only enhanced his curiosity, as he continued, "Sera? I'm not upset or anything. I was just curious. If there's a problem, I'd appreciate if you'd share it with me so I can fix it."

Gabriel's tone carried no hint of hesitation; he was earnestly committed to resolving any issues that plagued his little sister. Faced with this genuine concern, I weighed my options.

Spinning an elaborate lie seemed counterproductive at this juncture. Besides, being honest—or at least partially so—could actually set me on a better footing for whatever awaited me in this strange new world, if I spun the right tale.

Opting for a delicate balance of candour and theatricality, I mustered my most convincing expression of vulnerable unease.

"I—I was nervous," I began, my voice tinged with faux apprehension.

"Being alone in the apartment, I didn't feel entirely safe... So, um, I took a kitchen knife... just in case." I let that last phrase hang in the air, deliberately vague, allowing Gabriel's imagination to fill in the gaps. Sometimes, letting others connect the dots for you can lend more credibility to your story than you could ever imbue yourself.

Gabriel's reaction was precisely as I'd anticipated—quintessential big-brotherly concern blooming across his face.

"Sera, I'm so sorry," he blurted out, his words tinged with guilt as he pulled me into a snug embrace. "I should have figured that you would be feeling insecure in this strange apartment all by yourself! Fuck, what was I thinking?!"

He took a step back, holding me at arm's length as if to ensure I was still in one piece. "Listen, you should know that this apartment is safe—more than safe, actually. This entire floor of the megabuilding is owned by Ether Labs, Mom's employer. They've got top-tier security measures in place. The elevator, for instance, scans everyone biometrically before allowing access to this level."

His face took on a more serious look as he continued. "There are these things called 'access shards,' sure. They can let outsiders in, but those are exceedingly rare and everyone needs to be vetted thoroughly before they're handed one. I can assure you, our home is the most secure environment you could be in the entire city."

I paused for a moment, contemplating my next move.

I decided to lean into my amnesiac role, my face knitting into an apprehensive frown. "I guess if you say so, Gabriel. It's just... hard to shake this feeling, you know?"

That uncertainty seemed to strike another chord in him. "You're right, Neo Avalis isn't a walk in the park. I'll tell you what—why don't we get you a proper knife? Something you can actually defend yourself with. I mean, you won't be staying cooped up in this apartment forever. Having a knife could help you feel more secure, even outside," he offered, his voice laced with a hopeful tone.

My eyes widened just a fraction, then settled back into a careful mask of hesitant gratitude. "Yeah, that... that sounds like a good idea, I think. A knife would probably work," I finally said, nodding slowly as though still weighing the merits of his proposal.

Internally, I was punching the air in victory. Everything had gone just as planned.

A knife would not only offer me an additional layer of security but also provide more leeway for whatever moves I'd need to make in the unpredictable landscape of Neo Avalis. Not to mention all of the Skill experience I was going to be able to grind out with a proper knife!

All in all, a beautifully executed plan, if I do say so myself.

Did I feel slightly bad for lying to Gabriel? Honestly and strangely enough, yes. Yes, I did.

He was such an earnest, kind boy, that I truly felt a twinge of guilt at this whole spiel, but ultimately, I told myself, it was for his benefit as well.

If I was able to defend myself and grind up my Skills in peace, I could also defend him at some stage. I was bound to become more capable than he was, if my current projections for Attribute and Skill progression were anything to go by.

At the end of the day, however, what truly mattered was that I had secured Gabriel's promise to get me a proper combat knife the very next day. I also made a mental note to ask for the price, so I could repay him when I finally made some creds myself—being indebted to others was not something I could stomach for long.

The rest of the day seemed to evaporate in a haze of comfortable conversation.

I found myself engrossed in seemingly trivial dialogue with Gabriel, the kind of easy-going banter that had been conspicuously absent from my life for so long. The homeyness of it was grounding, a touchstone of normalcy in a reality that otherwise felt foreign and unsettled.

Gabriel's presence was more than just a comfort; it was a stabilising force, grounding me when the new world I found myself in seemed ready to spiral out of control at any moment.

I couldn't emphasise enough how crucial he was to my acclimation during those fledgling days.

As the clock rolled around to 9pm, Oliver also arrived at home.

We shared a dinner, just the three of us.

Valeria was entangled in her corporate responsibilities and wouldn't be home for several days, a norm that didn't seem to faze anyone else in the family. Part of me was quietly grateful for her absence, even if it meant missing out on some potential Ego XP. I needed a couple of days to really find my bearings and path, before I was willing to engage with that demon of a woman again.

The day petered out in a calming mix of grind and exploration, but it did culminate in one monumental event—the long-overdue shower.

It was my inaugural act of self-care in this cyberpunk landscape, and I had high expectations!

To my mild disappointment, however, the experience was largely the same as showers in my old world, although the water pressure did have a delightful intensity that was objectively superior to my crappy studio-apartment of old. It was kind of a letdown, realising that even in a world so radically different, some things—like the mechanics of a shower—remained remarkably mundane.

I guess there really wasn't much you could cyber-ify with the idea of having water rain down from above to rinse off grime and sweat.

By 11pm, Gabriel and I were ready to call it a night.

Sharing a room with a teenage boy could have been awkward, but any discomfort was somehow severely mitigated, probably because of Gabriel's strangely mature and well-adjusted demeanour. Still, a nagging thought lingered: Was this ease also due to some residual connection between Sera's original body and her brother? An innate familiarity that made the cohabitation less strange for the foreign consciousness now inhabiting her?

As I settled into bed, Gabriel helped tuck me in—since I had yet to disclose any of my newfound capabilities—I felt a frisson of excitement at the prospect of activating the Rest Function once more.

Setting the timer for a full eight hours, I hit confirm.

My eyes flickered open, momentarily enveloped by a comforting disorientation.

[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00

[System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.

A warm smile spread across my face as I processed the notifications.

Once again, the Rest Function had worked its magic, gifting me a flawless, dreamless slumber.

'Hands down, the best feature,' I thought to myself, relishing the freedom from the relentless grip of insomnia that used to torment me. In my previous life, I would have sold my Soul—or, less dramatically, punted a baby down the Grand Canyon—for a function as blissful as this.

Dealing with chronic insomnia was utterly atrocious—and now, I would never have to worry about it, ever again!

I was snapped out of my reverie when Gabriel knocked on the metallic partition separating our living spaces.

"Come in," I called.

"I'm about to head off to work, Sera," he said, entering the room. "But first, I brought this for you." He placed the kitchen knife I had borrowed the day before at the foot of my bed. "Promise me you'll be careful with it. I'll pick up a proper knife for you after my shift, so you'll have something more reliable to make you feel safe."

I felt a wave of emotion swell up within me, momentarily choking off my breath. It took a downright Herculean effort not to burst into tears.

Was this guy for real? His first priority after readying himself for the day was to make sure his sister felt secure in their home.

What kind of sixteen-year-old boy was this fucking attentive?

"Thank you, Gabe," I managed to say, my voice tinged with disbelief as I stared at the kitchen knife on my bed. Gabriel was nothing short of a human golden retriever, exuding unconditional warmth and loyalty.

His face broke into an even wider grin. "Need me to help you into your chair?"

For a second, I was puzzled by his increased joviality. Then it clicked: I had just called him "Gabe" without thinking.

'Well, better than fucking "Gab," I suppose,' I silently mused, contemplating whether this accidental nickname would have any repercussions. Likely, I was overanalyzing; but in a world still so new to me, trust was a rare commodity—even if Gabriel was making scepticism increasingly difficult.

"Sure, that'd be great," I agreed, my voice tinged with gratitude. With an air of practised care, Gabriel helped me into my wheelchair, ensuring I was seated properly before carefully letting go of me, as if scared I was simply going to fall over if he let go too quickly.

"Remember to be careful with the knife, Sera," he reminded me as he made his way to the door. "See you later. I'll zip you another message when I'm about to head home from the store, alright?"

"Yeah, that would be great, thank you. See you, Gabe," I replied, watching as the door clicked shut behind him.

Once alone, I turned my attention to the arduous task of changing clothes.

Even though it was still a struggle, I noticed a tangible improvement from the day before.

The boost in my Body Attribute had upgraded me to incredibly weak, all the way up from almost wholly incapacitated. I was still a long way from athletic, but I wasn't feeling like a wet noodle trying to move about anymore. I was slightly more al-dente now.

After navigating the complexities of pants and a shirt, I wheeled myself to the mirror.

I peeled off the old spray-bandage from my forehead, replacing it with a fresh patch. The bandage, of course, a cover for a head injury that didn't actually exist.

Oliver had been immediately concerned at dinner yesterday when he saw it.

Thanks to Gabriel's knack for quick thinking, we'd concocted a harmless story. "I accidentally dropped something on my face," I'd said, and with a couple of reassuring nods from Gabriel, Oliver had accepted the simple, yet effective tale. It had garnered me a couple of quips and jokes from Gabriel—to further sell the story, I'm sure—but ultimately, it had worked to fool Oliver and arrest his concerns.

With that minor act of deception out of the way, I rolled into the living room.

It was another day of grinding ahead of me.

Fueled by the excitement of downright guaranteed progress, I was laser-focused on today's mission: Grinding the Reflex Attribute. My plan was to tread carefully, keeping my Body Attribute at a stagnant zero for at least the first week.

This would help sell the illusion of a natural recovery and reduce any undue suspicions.

Last night, as I'd laid in bed before using the Rest Function, the gears in my mind had whirred with the intricacies of a new grinding strategy. Now, I was chomping at the bit to execute it.

The thrill was akin to the anticipation of a dopamine hit—though in this case, the high was from pure, unadulterated experience points straight to my veins.

Wasting no more time, I deftly navigated my wheelchair to gather the specific objects I'd need for my Reflex-oriented training. Once I had everything, I positioned myself strategically in the living room's epicentre. I made sure to choose an area clear of any furniture or loose items; the last thing I needed was to accidentally hit something during my self-made Reflex drill.

'Okay, here goes nothing,' I thought to myself, balancing two makeshift balls—each about the size of an old-world orange—in my hands. They were really just clumps of socks rolled tightly together, their lightweight heft more manageable for my current state of utter pathetic physical strength.

Carefully, I launched the first sock-ball into the air with my right hand while simultaneously tossing the one in my left hand toward the now-empty right hand. My eyes followed the airborne sock-ball as it reached its peak and began its descent. With a quick flick of my left wrist, I caught it, completing my first rudimentary juggling cycle.

Yes, you heard that right—I was attempting to juggle.

But don't mock my endeavours!

Given my limited mobility and my entire world being essentially confined within the four walls of the apartment, juggling had seemed like an ingenious way to boost my Reflex Attribute. Besides, I'd have the last laugh when my Attribute skyrocketed, all thanks to this seemingly trivial exercise!

'Let the grinding commence,' I thought with a sly grin, as I started with the next set.

It didn't take too long until I was greeted with that sweet, sweet dopamine injection.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 1100xp.

A quick glance at the timer I had set when I started revealed that nearly 20 minutes had elapsed since I embarked on this sock-juggling quest.

'Not as quick a gain as I'd hoped, but I did also start at 1 for Reflex compared to my 0 in Body, so comparing the two isn't exactly fair,' I reasoned internally. 'It stands to reason that the exercises needed for experience would get progressively harder… So, what if I added a third ball? The increased difficulty should yield faster experience gains, right?'

Fortunately, I had prepped several sock-bundles in advance—seven, to be exact. It's what I could cobble together from the oddly extensive sock collection I had inherited from Sera.

'Why the hell did Sera have such a massive array of socks to begin with? Seriously, I counted more than 30 pairs! And yet, she only had three different outfits, not including that one evening dress. What sort of fucked up priorities did she have?' I couldn't help but ponder this wardrobe enigma as if it were some cosmic joke.

Shaking off the trivial thought, I grabbed a third sock-ball and weighed it in my hands.

In my previous life, I'd seen countless street performers and short-form videos of professionals juggling all manner of objects, making it look effortless. I, on the other hand, had the coordination of a drunken octopus, so this was going to be a serious challenge.

Yet, if mastering a three-ball juggle could cut down 5 to 10 minutes off each experience drop, it would be a worthy investment of my time in the long run. So, with renewed determination, I readied myself for the next level of my juggling grind.

Twenty minutes of near-constant focus had my three-sock juggling act starting to look somewhat competent—around 70% success rate by my estimation.

Granted, my muscles ached from the unaccustomed effort and several sock-bundles had strayed beyond my immediate reach, but it was a small price for progress. I had enough backup sock-bundles to keep me from pausing my grind to collect the strays all the time.

Just as I was fine-tuning my technique—thinking of chaining sets together to create a seamless juggle—the system chimed in with a set of notifications that shattered my concentration.

Sock bundles flew in wild arcs, scattering across the room like startled birds.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 1000xp.

[System]: [Juggling] Skill unlocked.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 900xp.

"What the fuck is this and why is it here?!" I blurted out, my voice ricocheting off the empty walls.

The issue was as glaring as it was baffling: [Juggling] wasn't a skill that existed in Neon Dragons.

The very game-world's framework I was operating under—or at least, that I thought I was operating under.

This was a wrinkle I hadn't anticipated, a stark discrepancy that loomed unfathomably large in its implications.

Could it mean that this world had its own rules, distinct from Neon Dragons? And if so, what did that mean for all the strategies and assumptions I had built up to this point?

A sense of unease twisted my insides, expanding like a shadow in my thoughts. This was more than just a Skill discrepancy; it was a question mark. A portent, challenging the foundational knowledge I had been leaning on to navigate this unfamiliar world so far.

It begged the unsettling question: What else didn't I know about this world…?