My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt

He left a remark, stood up, the magnetic door swung open, and only then did he notice the two girls standing at the end of the corridor smoking, scrutinizing John’s crotch with a penetrating look.

Gino’s voice came from behind.

"I asked Jilead for the contact of an intermediary. Did some online gig last night, decent payoff. There might be better job opportunities ahead, but I didn’t reveal personal information, kept it prudent..."

John turned and looked at the room.

Gino sat on the couch, moved his arm away from covering his face to reveal a smiling expression.

John nodded and returned the smile.

"Good."

He left.

Since John hadn’t mentioned it himself, Gino didn’t ask—whether the Serum had helped.

Death is cruel.

Farewells in Eden City are usually silent.

Gino recalled John’s previous mutterings and that strange chip—perhaps some kind of virtual companion, a device for mental solace.

"Ah... Poor John, always driven to madness."

[Eden City—West District Edge]

[Experience the mercenary lifestyle with Sora. (Optional)]

John raced down the street on the Alloy RCH.

The motorcycle zipped through the reflective asphalt, like diving into a sea of holographic projections and rock music waves.

The fierce wind pressed against the skin, the view changed wildly.

[Thrill—ah—dear god, this is racing, damn it, I must admit your driving skills count as top-notch even in games, brother, this is how it should be driven.]

Kenichi Sora had topped leaderboards in many virtual racing games.

But in real sensory stimulation, the roar of the vehicles was no longer parameters simulated by screens or devices but felt genuinely through limbs, sensing the industrial essence within the metal vehicle.

The Alloy RCH shattered through the light rain curtain.

Amidst the traffic were gang vehicles and patrolling blue-white sirens, hovercar vector engines weaving between skyscrapers.

John simply took it out for fun.

He relinquished control of his body on the West District ring-road overpass.

Kenichi Sora wasn’t just bragging; his mind wasn’t just theoretical, when it came to detailed control of vehicle data, he was even more precise than John.

The speed soared to 300 mph.

The asphalt road in the rain was very dangerous.

Kenichi Sora walked steadily on the "wire," with tire parameters and road moisture in his control.

There was a sense of super intelligent driving.

Kenichi Sora had an exhilarating experience.

He first wanted to switch vehicles to continue racing, then proposed a new demand.

[Let’s find an illegal race, one that’s city-wide, and better with some police chase; honestly, the ECPD idiots won’t catch us!]

"No way, this is where it ends."

John poured cold water over the excitement.

"We’ve got proper business to do!"

[Awaiting Raphael’s call. (Optional)]

[It doesn’t matter, Raphael’s call hasn’t come in yet; if a text arrives, we’ll just quit the race halfway!]

"Can you guarantee you can shake off the cops anytime? Even if you succeed, how do we conduct business under the ECPD warrant!"

John took back control and drove the motorcycle to the East District edge to refuel—it belonged to Raphael’s domain, where news could arrive quickly.

The difference between a professional and an amateur is evident here.

The quality of street mercenaries varies greatly.

Those fools dropping the ball temporarily, or messing up the intermediary work, are the ones who thought they had everything under control, only to end up scrambling and messing things up.

The motorcycle was refueling.

John walked to the nearby vending machine.

Unexpectedly, Sora stayed quiet throughout the journey without clamoring to continue playing, not even asking John to take a stroll around the nearby bar.

"The brat grew up?"

John asked casually.

[Bro, are you mocking me? Don’t do that. My memory bank can trace back to before 2020; if we talk about iteration date, it’s you who’s the brat in my eyes!]

"Oh, is that so."

John swiped through the vending machine menu.

[Hey hey hey, pick that one, I haven’t tried it before!]

Sora’s tone became excited again.

"Ha."

John let out a cold laugh.

[Come on! Buddy, I know what you want to say, but I’ve really thought about what you said before, indeed, reality isn’t like what I imagined. There’s no option box popping up during a conversation with friends, tasks need talking, need grabbing, won’t turn into exclamation marks waiting for us.]

"Summed it up well."

John took a sip of the drink, sour and greasy, seemingly mixed with a stimulant that had his heart racing.

[You’re still mocking me, really strict, huh, John, you should know, I’ve been living in the game, first time leaving the server in decades, my sensory memory in the database is blurring!]

"Should I praise you for rapid growth and quick adaptation?"

[You really should... Fine, toss that crap away, get some pure water to rinse your mouth.]

Thud.

Kenichi Sora took control of John’s body, raised his hand, and threw.

The bottle made a perfect arc and fell into the trash can.

"Is adapting to human life that hard for AI?"

[Data souls are not humans, we were born observing the world through data perspective, sensory experience is entirely new to us, we only signed a three-day contract, compared to a lifetime, I’ve grown rapidly!]

"Uh-huh."

John was noncommittal.

"Didn’t the Serum adapt well? Even formed a hacker alliance, and no one discovered she was a data dumpling all these years."

[I said every AI has their strengths, I like games, Serum likes studying humans and cyberpsychosis...]

"Quiet for now."

[She...]

"Shut up, the employer is here."

John left the area lit by vending machine advertisements, there was a middle-aged woman standing in the shadows where the motorcycle was parked, gazing up at the sky.

She wore a gas station work uniform, blue shirt with a corporate emblem.

[Consider Fogelton Auto Sales Center]

Raphael’s domain.

The motorcycle stood in the gaps between buildings, at the dead angle of city light glow, the middle-aged woman’s prosthetic eye was exceptionally bright, reflecting richly varied expressions.

"Raphael?"

"Good evening, John... and Kenichi Sora."

[Wow, she really knows me.]

Sora attempted a reverse hack on Raphael but failed, indicating that this intermediary has formidable hackers protecting her.

She’s well-connected, the "godmother" of mercenaries, professional mentor to street rookies, a serpent entrenched in Eden City East District.

Different people will encounter different sides of her.

John is self-aware.

He’s seen how big shots operate and their temperament, aware that Raphael’s willingness to remain friendly towards him is largely due to his good relationship with Ryan, and the doctor and Raphael were teammates once.

This "favor" has its limits.

If you accept work as a mercenary, you have to behave, the consequences of messing up a job, Redsun and Oulos have already demonstrated.

She pulled out a respirator from her work attire.

This item was likely a personal belonging of the female employee, with a strong scent, was a common item obtainable from a vending machine, not fitting Raphael’s status.

She shook her hand, sending over intelligence.

A rifle holographic projection unfolded in John’s vision.