My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt

A strange female voice came through, clearly indicating that Raphael was once again "requisitioning" an employee’s body to contact mercenaries.

[Raphael: Long time no see, John. You saw the message and did as instructed... right?]

"I always work alone, so just get to the point."

John could feel the chip heating up.

Kenichi Sora was definitely eavesdropping on the call, possibly even attempting a reverse hack.

This roving AI was extremely restless, in some sense, it was even more unruly than Black Light.

[Raphael: I’m not referring to people.]

"..."

John could sense a momentary fluctuation in the apartment system.

Kenichi Sora was like a thief caught under a police spotlight.

A cold laugh came from the other end, continuing with a tone of expected sarcasm.

[Raphael: Several companies’ network security departments are working overtime, Internet Surveillance is issuing bounties all over cyberspace, and the municipal government and ECPD are ready to intervene. It seems like something’s gone missing, but when asked, no one will say what the missing item is.]

The message was clear enough.

Raphael seemed to know that [Kenichi Sora] was associated with John, at least he had a track on this roving AI’s whereabouts and contacts.

Bringing out the companies and the cops wasn’t a threat, but negotiating the price.

Secrecy requires a fee.

Raphael not selling John out directly indicated she wanted to keep the profit for herself.

John laid it out straight.

"Information sure travels fast, alright, what job do you have for me, speak up. You have so many businesses and trades under your hand, it’s not like you’re after my meager worth, right?"

[Raphael: Getting smarter, John.]

[From your tone, you’re not planning to sell it? Think it over, I can help you connect to big clients; they’re fighting over this like crazy. It’s a chance to change your life.]

"I trust you, but money won’t solve my problems."

John had no intention of betting on both sides.

[Raphael: What a pity, since you’re not selling, why did you call?]

"Uh... I want to get my hands on a handy tool."

Just as John finished speaking, he heard a cold laugh from the other end.

The intelligence trade on the roving AI, so high-end, suddenly turned into illegal arms trading. And it wasn’t about smuggling large quantities of munitions, just a mercenary wanting to buy some rare goods.

The disparity was too great.

It was like asking the president of the Gaia Cell Company out just to buy two treatment needles, maybe with some hemostatic supplies on the side.

But Raphael was a professional middleman.

She not only had contacts with legendary mercenaries but also groomed street newcomers.

So John’s request did indeed fall within her business scope.

[Raphael: Are you looking for a finished product, or something loose?]

"Either’s fine, the rarer the better, ideally with a bit of excitement, hey, let’s just say I’m looking for some fun!"

John felt like a trouble seeker.

But the response from the other end was quite straightforward.

[Raphael: A collection habit, I get it. Many mercenaries have similar quirks. I know one who loves collecting commemorative weapons... just didn’t expect, you’ve reached this stage. Your mental demands are rising quickly.]

"Can you handle it?"

[Raphael: Wait for my message. Won’t take long.]

The call disconnected.

[Wow!!]

"Damn, stop yelling in my head!"

John resisted the urge to pull out the chip.

Kenichi Sora was very excited.

The commercial secret of the roving AI hidden in the game server couldn’t possibly be as "well-known" as Raphael put it; purely because her information channels were high-end and well-connected.

The mysterious middleman hit the excitement spot for Sora!

[You should aim to live more like her, John. Being a Lone Wolf gets tedious eventually. You can’t spend your whole life as a gun-for-hire; when the time is right, you need your own force, your own enterprise!]

"Where did you get these theories?"

John realized Kenichi Sora was serious.

[Management is an important part of gaming!]

"Fuck, don’t impose your gaming experience on reality. Do you know how many street legends die daily from the most ordinary stray bullets?"

John was often ridiculed by Oulos for being "willful."

But upon getting deeper with Sora, he found this roving AI frighteningly naive.

"Reality has no save points; focusing on the immediate is what matters most."

[I know... ]

"No, you don’t know."

John interrupted it lightly.

"Do you know what it’s like to transplant a Prosthetic Body?

[Become... stronger?]

"It hurts."

John stood and walked to the last row of clothes.

He would pick them up, knead them, squeeze them, weigh the whole piece, or pull it hard.

John’s face was expressionless, his tone calm.

"Replacing a Prosthetic Body means getting on the operating table, naked and cold. If you awaken from poor-quality anesthesia while being skinned and disassembled, it can frighten you back into unconsciousness..."

John picked a vest.

It looked ordinary, because it was expensive, it was placed next to flashy clothes.

"Games won’t tell you that besides looking good, clothes must be breathable, comfortable, and even heat-resistant."

[Heat-resistant?]

"That’s right because the instantaneous heat of many Prosthetic Bodies, including those from Sianweistan, is astonishingly high. Coolants will evaporate, and clothes near the exhaust ports will curl from the heat."

John put on the vest, turned sideways.

"These are things games won’t tell you."

The workshop door was open, and the melting pool and mirrors embedded in the walls were visible.

John tilted his head, pointing to the protruding end of his spine in the mirror.

"Like why the control system and spine tip need to be near the back of the head: because they’re less likely to get damaged in a fall, and the part protruding beyond the collar won’t burn it."

John lifted his jacket and slipped his arm through the sleeve.

The cooling patch perfectly adhered to the spine.

Kenichi Sora fell silent until John left the apartment, taking the elevator straight to the underground garage.

He returned to the West District streets, bathed in neon lights.

[Hmm... well, if you think of so much, it just won’t be fun. The pressure must be intense, right?]

"Yeah, living isn’t easy."

John with his hands in his pockets walked steadily.

"So discussing the future is a luxury. Those legends didn’t know from the start they’d be world-renowned. Who hasn’t been living day-to-day until now, surviving means success."

Kenichi Sora saw through his eyes, sometimes along, sometimes against, brushing past countless people.

Some smelled intoxicatingly sweet, others reeked of sour stench.

John was right.

One could naturally tell the difference between street youths and gang members, or even between the underclass Wanderer and jobless citizens, through clothing.

Some people wore flamboyantly, flaunting rebellion.

Some had exaggerated muscles, fierce expressions.

Many others remained silent.

Neon lights filled them from different angles, making everyone’s silhouette more three-dimensional, vivid.

Mist descended from dizzyingly high skyscrapers.

Sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s raining.

Accumulated water, steam, holographic projections, the black shiny asphalt emitted a silver glow, the traffic roared, music thumped, and humans lived, reproduced, expanded in the steel jungle like bacteria.

You couldn’t say their lives were interesting.

But each passerby was a unique save point.