This is the last thing that I can do for you, and I am not even sure it will be of any help.
Your mother and I will always love you.
Be strong,
Dad
P.S. Burn this letter.
That made me tear up, and he wasn't even my father, really. It was always my mom that called me Little Owl, and I wondered if Alt-Dad started calling Alt-Taylor that after her mom died or if he always had. My memories were inconclusive on the matter. Alt-Taylor was a lot luckier that her dad was emotionally a lot more able to handle the loss of mom, even if he was... some kind of... secret agent? Spy? Black ops commando?
What other kind of job allowed you to acquire valuable souvenirs as you travelled the world on missions? And add postscripts to burn letters you arrange to be sent a month after your death? It seemed like something out of a noir detective or spy novel. But, maybe I was thinking too much about it.
I pulled out my laptop and used every way I could to scan the data shard for any malicious code, but there either wasn't, or it was way past my ability to detect. I finally shrugged; it was in my dad's handwriting, and it could have been a nerve agent instead of a data shard. It was probably safe.
I slotted it into the socket behind my ear. A lot of people chose ports on their necks that were really obvious, but I selected a design for my OS to put one port behind each ear. My tiny interface plug was at the base of my skull, hidden by my hair. I wasn't comfortable enough in this world to use cybernetics augmentation as a style.
Sure enough, it was a digital key and text file giving the address and unit number. I copy the files to my internal system, delete the data on the shard, eject it and, for good measure, break it into a few dozen pieces on the floor with Alt-Dad's ball peen hammer.
I'm interested in what was in this storage unit, sure. But I didn't expect to rush over there any time soon. Beyond the fact that the part of Watson the storage facility was in was scary, I wondered why my dad included a thirty-day delay before having this delivered. Why hadn't he just left it with all of our things at home?
I sat down and considered why that might be. Perhaps Militech didn't care about this, but if it was a well-known practice for people with the same job as my dad did to collect souvenirs, some of which may be valuable, perhaps a single actor acting without knowledge of the Corp might search the household things of a deceased employee? Or maybe even surveil the only surviving daughter of such a person, just in case I immediately went to empty out some sort of storage unit after his death?
What would such an actor do if he or she did see that activity? Murdering the girl and stealing all of her dad's stuff seemed the obvious answer.
That seemed like spy movie stuff, too. But I couldn't say it wasn't impossible, so I didn't see any need to go see what was in it now beyond my raging curiosity. But if it was a panty collection from all the bond girls he banged before meeting mom, I was going to flush his ashes down the toilet.
Realistically, thirty days would probably have been enough; nobody would privately surveil someone that long on a hunch. That said, it wasn't like I needed anything right now. If I was destitute, I would have different opinions, but money, as it always did, gave me options.
It was a shame I neither had a car or license nor knew how to drive. I searched around the kitchen for a lighter.
I had an appointment at the Skyline clinic after class on Friday, so I skipped the study group for the first time. The first week was going faster than I thought. I noticed a lot of the students were caught off-guard by the rapid pace of it, but if you were going to squeeze two years of material into six months, you couldn't waste even a day. I had gotten the reputation as one of the smartest in the class, and all of the Militech people joined our unofficial study group, along with the Trauma Team people and a few of the Night City natives.
Ever since I almost got shot on Monday, I realised I needed more protection than what I had. Not only was I going to buy that internal biomonitor that I had wanted, but I was also getting two types of bioware. The Skyline clinic wasn't only a cybernetics shop, but they also did biosculpt and most types of bioware as well. I didn't want to go there to get my appearance changed, though, since I was a bit paranoid back then.
The first bioware I was going to get was a ballistic skin weave, which was the bioware equivalent of subdermal armour. It would provide protection equivalent to kevlar body armour, so it would stop most pistols and some submachine guns, at least. It wasn't as effective as subdermal armour, but it also wasn't obvious you had it. Your skin still felt like skin when people touched you, and it was very hard to detect that you had it absent some manner of sensors or sophisticated optics.
Not that I had any plans for anyone to touch me, but I felt better about keeping the looks I had. In addition to that, I was getting muscle and bone lace. This was a nano-process that threaded microscopic artificial fibres through muscle and bone tissue, increasing your strength and, more importantly, significantly reducing the damage done to your bones and vastly reducing the chances of a fracture.
In many cases, a bone fracture was immediately disabling, making further fight or flight impossible. Not only were these expensive procedures, but they took a very long time to propagate. I would walk out of the clinic today with the implant, but I would have to come to the clinic every day for an hour and receive treatment for over two weeks.
The trip on the train wasn't crowded. Going downtown in the evening was always easier than leaving it.
I was met by the same customer sales specialist as last time, who smiled widely and offered me refreshments. I guess the commission she got on my sales made her think well of me. I accepted some water and told her what had happened on Monday.
"That's terrible! But at least you're okay. What can we help you with to put your mind more at ease?" she asked, oozing professional politeness and an eagerness to serve.
I nodded and said firmly, "I would like that bio-monitor you tried to sell me the other day, as well as two bioware treatments. I would like the skin weave and muscle and bone lace."
She raised her eyebrows, "You're not thinking about a career as a mercenary, are you?"
I snorted, "If I was, I would have asked for the subdermal armour and projectile launch system, and maybe those arm blades." I wave my arms around wildly to demonstrate.
She laughed a soft and pleasant windchime sound. That laugh had to be something she practised a lot, that or it was a cybernetic augmentation in itself, "Well, the subdermal armour would be fine, but mantis blades and the PLS are incompatible, not to mention restricted from purchase."
"Really? They aren't illegal items," I said curiously. Although I actually thought the Projectile Launch System had to be illegal. Or at least, it ought to be. It was basically a missile launcher on your arm.
She nodded, "That's true, but we receive significant pressure not to sell such items to citizens that don't have a valid job interest as a security professional. That said... if you were to bring in such an item yourself, well, in that case, it wouldn't be us selling it to you, would it? But it would still have to pass our inspections. We don't install non-functional or barely functional cybernetics at Skyline."
I wondered who provided that pressure, and I noted she didn't say. Still, she was quite pleased with my purchases, and I was almost thirty thousand eurodollars poorer.
Dr Travis was just as chatty as last time, which I quite enjoyed. The affable old man had a good bedside manner.
Since it was already past dark by the time I was done, I spent an extra forty eurodollars calling a cab to take me back to my building; it was the first time I actually entered it from the ground floor.
It was an interesting cab, completely AI-operated. Apparently, the company, Delamain, recently began replacing all of their human drivers with this system. The AI tried to make small talk, but it had a bit of a way to go before it seemed alive and interested if that were the company's goal.
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The Complete Idiot's Guide
The Complete Idiot's Guide to Arcane Japanese Gang Culture
My three months of free rent, as paid for by the generosity of Militech, was coming to an end. I had about three weeks left, but I wanted to shift into a larger apartment. I just didn't have enough space here; most everything was still boxed up and stacked box on box.
So I went to the first floor of the Megabuilding, to its rental office, and inquired about the availability of a two-bedroom apartment. There were three main types of apartments in this building, the simple studio apartment of varying sizes, a two-bedroom apartment and then, on the very top floors, there were many custom luxury apartments far beyond my price range.
"Yes, we have a number of two-bedroom units vacant, and if you're willing to move quickly, you can likely shift your belongings with a week to spare. So, if you can do that, I'd be willing to refund one-half of that last week of rent on your current unit," the office manager told me, which caused me to narrow my eyes suspiciously.
I had read the rental agreement, or at least most of it. There was no section where they were obligated to do that, so why were they? "Why?" I asked, simply and bluntly. Suspiciously.
That caused the man to chuckle, "Ah, self-interest, I assure you. I can turn around your current unit in just a few days, and I have a list of people waiting for a single unit. You see, the two-bedroom units are not eligible for most governmental rental assistance. They consider walls a luxury, I guess." The last sentence was said with a truckload of amusement.
Ah. That made a lot of sense, then. He'd probably have someone in and paying rent before the month was up, whereas if I had stuck to the terms of the contract, he would lose out on a week of rent, probably. Now, he was just losing out on the half.
"Okay, I'd like to plan for that then. Send me a message when you have a few units for me to choose from," I said and departed to head back upstairs. However, as I was heading up the elevator, I got a call from Mr Jin. Waving a hand to accept it, I said, "Hello, Mr Jin. I wasn't expecting your call."
In the corner of my vision, the well-dressed man's face appeared, smiling, "Of course! I was going to call you later, but a little bird told me that you were interested in moving into a slightly larger apartment. Can you meet me on the twelfth floor? I have both something I'd like to show you and a couple of people who wanted to pay their respects."
I wanted to raise my eyebrows, but since this was a vidcall, I didn't want to alert him to my surprise. I didn't think there was any good that would come to me if I declined his invitation, so I said, "Okay. I suppose I have enough time. Where on the twelfth?"
"Two units down from Clouds," the man said, giving a thumbs up and disconnecting the call.
Well, this was a little unusual. I had been trying very hard to avoid any contact with the Tyger Claws ever since my first day in class, where I made met Mr Slice-N-Dice. I half expected them to send me some kind of reward, but I thought it was just going to be money.
Sighing, I tapped the twelfth-floor button. I'd have to wait until the elevator went all the way to the twenty-ninth and then back down.
Walking out of the elevator, I glanced around. I had never actually been on this floor, and it was in a half-residential and half-commercial setup that was pretty interesting. The dollhouse Clouds took pride of place in the centre of the floor, so I found that easily enough; then, looking to either side of it, I found Mr Jin and two other men standing next to a doorway.
Walking over to him, I look at the people who apparently want to "pay me respects" with a bit of suspicion. However, my memory easily placed the two. It was Mr Yuki and Mr Sanjuro from a couple of months ago. Relieved it wasn't some sort of gang boss here to give me an offer I couldn't refuse, capiche, I inspected the man named Sanjuro. He clearly had some neural cyberware installed that he didn't previously have.
I couldn't place it, but there were a lot of speciality products whose only actual use was medical, to correct a disability whether it was inborn or acquired through illness or trauma, and it definitely appeared to be one of these types. Fully half of the side of his head by his temple was replaced by a neat-looking carbon-fibre plate, including your normal interface sockets.
Honestly, I had half expected Mr Sanjuro to be taken directly to a dumpster and discarded. Although his condition was survivable, it wouldn't have been inexpensive for the trauma surgeon to save his life or the speciality neuralware or physical therapy that he no doubt was continuing even now. I didn't expect your average gang to actually take care of their members injured in the line of duty. Maelstrom might have, but only because the treatment was more cyberware.
"Mr Jin! It's nice to see you again," I told him as I neared, causing him to smile widely.
He nodded, "Likewise! And these two, I don't suppose you recognise them, do you?"
I chuckled ruefully, "Yuki, knife to the aorta. Sanjuro, GSW to the head. It's nice to see you both seemingly doing well."
Jin grinned and glanced around, then nodded at the two of them, "Go ahead."
The two glanced at each other and nodded, then quickly, before I could stop them, they got on their knees and bent over, almost touching the ground with their foreheads, saying in unison, "Thank you for saving our lives!"
Fuck! What was that called? Kowtowing? I glanced left and right, incredibly embarrassed. I also didn't want people, of which there was a number, looking at me with shock and slack jaws as two members of the gang that ran this building kowtowed to me like I was some kind of Yakuza princess.
I waved wildly and spoke rapidly, "That's not necessary, you two. Please, please raise your head. Get up." I barely did anything for either of them. It was the doctors at the hospital that really saved their lives.
I just wanted people to stop staring at us, but apparently, that was the correct thing to say from their cultural perspective as well because they quickly stood up and both smiled widely at me. Look, guys. I don't know anything about Japanese or Asian culture, so I was just trying to make sure nobody involved got embarrassed, mainly so that I wouldn't have to be the centre of attention anymore.
