Cyberpunk: Cross-dimensional Science and Engineering

"I trust you don't need me to tell you that you've got a mole on your side."

Lille's opening was very direct, and after hearing it, Zhu Shen nodded, "Is it my deputy, Cai Pin? Is she your client?"

"I don't know." Lille shook his head, "The client's identity is confidential, I'm afraid."

What confidentiality? Lille didn't know who V's client was, nor did he need to.

First of all, the authenticity of the client's identity was questionable; secondly, if Zhu Shen didn't even know who had the chance and motive to hack him, it would be better to throw him back now.

"Hmph, still playing that game? Are you Eastern?"

"You could say that."

"Then let's communicate in the Eastern tongue—I'm going to turn off the translator. Shutting down some systems makes me feel better."

In the year 2077, for those augmented with prosthetics, electronic viruses were indistinguishable from biological ones. When the implants failed, it was as if the body itself had failed.

Lille nodded, switching languages, "Alright—go on, what's the grudge between you?"

"What grudge? It's just that she wants to take my place. I just never expected her to make a move at this critical juncture..."

Zhu Shen furrowed his brow, looking extremely irritated: "We have a batch of goods that needs to go through Night City and be transported back to headquarters. Now that I've been captured, to ensure efficiency, they're likely to let Cai Pin take charge of this matter first.

Once she actually succeeds and takes over my position, no one will care about whether I live or die."

"What's in the batch?"

Zhu Shen glanced at Lille, "Some prototype products and semi-finished component parts developed by the Atlanta marketing department that need to be approved for production by the headquarters.

Listen, I haven't restarted my system. There's only one reason I haven't contacted the trauma team and called the cops: I want Cai Pin dead, and this batch of goods must not be screwed up.

I don't want APD involved and then get thrown into jail. I'll keep staying offline. You have to take her by surprise and ensure my job goes smoothly."

Lille didn't respond immediately but instead looked at the TV, which was airing an advertisement for Zeta Technology, showing the company far ahead in the market share for neural processors.

But, for some reason, the ad was followed by another, indicating that the very top civilian neural processors were still those of Military Technology's Si Anweisitan.

It was as if it was slapping the former in the face—"You've sold a lot, but don't forget, my product is still the top-of-the-line."

Zeta Technology, however, had no choice but to accept it since this was Military Technology's turf.

After some thought, Lille said, "Well, you're in luck. You've encountered the best mercenary. Let's talk price."

"The best mercenary, huh?" Zhu Shen neither agreed nor disagreed, but he was aware that he didn't have many options now.

After a moment's thought, he made his offer: "400,000 for Cai Pin's life, 400,000 to get this batch to Night City, 200,000 for your covert operations—remember, keep it quiet, I don't want to deal with APD."

Lille shook his head, "A million to do all that work? Please, we're talking about silently taking out a corporate executive in Atlanta without anyone noticing, and you have no other options.

Believe me, if you show your face on the streets, a ceaseless hunt will follow you, and then you'll have to choose between that and calling the police.

With the former, the chance of death is nearly one hundred percent. With the latter, you'll lose your job, which is about the same as being dead.

But you don't want to pick either—2 million. It's a tough job.

Plus, you need to pay a deposit first, and then I want a local intelligence analysis from inside Kantao."

Almost without hesitation, Zhu Shen nodded, "Deal. I can't restart my system, but I do have security funds, totaling 400,000 euros, in a European bank. She won't find out about it."

Whistling, Lille opened the door, and there was V, standing just fine in front of it. Considering the poor soundproofing here, she must have heard the entire deal word for word.

Zhu Shen looked constipated, while Lille just shrugged his shoulders, "We're on the same team. She needs to know the target, requirements, and payment, doesn't she?

V, drive. We've got to find a prosthetics doctor — Mr. Zhu, I assume you have someone in mind?"

...

Driving the car, V appeared calm but was actually dizzy.

2 million euros!

Who would need to work as a mercenary with that kind of money? Just enjoy life!

She shot a glance at Lille, "You're not bad, kid."

Lille propped each other up, business-wise, "You flatter me. You'll be needed later on. After all, you're the renowned V."

Though V didn't say anything, it was obvious that she rather liked the flattery Lille was laying on, "How do we split the money?"

"Seven for me, three for you—the street rule."

"What kind of crap are you talking about? Since when is it street rule to share seventy-thirty with a bald monk like you?"

"Look, I'm sort of a middleman now, if you don't want the job you can leave me out of it. But if you get rid of me, do you think the financier will keep cooperating with you?"

Lille was confident—with her now relying on him, he could have his way with the street kid V. Easy.

In truth, this is what a middleman does: deal with the financier, then use connections to organize the action.

Finally, hire some greenhorn to get the job done—someone quick and capable but gets dizzy at the thought of money.

Both middlemen and mercenaries were looked down upon by companies, but companies will only deal with middlemen, not directly with mercenaries.

Lille had pretended to be a greenhorn middleman in front of Zhu Shen, but in fact, he was indeed playing this role in the current mission.

Just... V knew that Lille was definitely not some middleman—intuition.

V didn't speak, but Lille could actually feel the heavy atmosphere in the air...

"Cough, cough... Considering I've just started out, this job carries more risk for you, so you can take an extra ten percent."

V glanced at Lille, "Fifty-fifty split—without me, you couldn't get it done."

Lille could only accept reluctantly, "Alright, it's our first time after all. But, don't be too greedy, not all the money can be pocketed."

V's grip on the steering wheel relaxed a bit, "So, what's our next step?"

"First, we'll use the deposit Mr. Zhu has advanced us. For a big job like this, we need good gear, and then we'll find some help, ready to give Miss Cai a little surprise...

Er—cough—cough—cough—!"

Lille's lungs suddenly felt an intense burning sensation as he was speaking.

For a moment, his limbs seemed to lose all connection with his brain. The next moment, he regained sensation in his body, but it was numb—

Moreover, a dark halo appeared around his field of vision, like being shortsighted, causing double vision.

He couldn't hear anything, his eyes saw things, but he struggled to discern what he was seeing visually.

A few seconds later, the sound of traffic returned to his ears, as if his consciousness had just returned from hell.

"Are you okay? You looked like you were dead just now." V was worried the 500,000-dollar job they were about to land might be gone, "Damn, your eyes..."

Lille's right eye was completely bloodshot, the white part filled with blood vessels.

"I'm fine..." Lille lay back in the seat, taking deep breaths of air—

Apart from getting V better combat prosthetics with the advance pay, he needed to get a specialist to check his own body condition.

Or rather, that was his first priority.

The two of them drove to the bank to withdraw the safe funds provided by Zhu Shen, then drove to a black-market clinic on the edge of the city, one recommended by Zhu Shen—a black-market clinic frequented by corporate types.

As long as you didn't overstep, it truly operated as a black-market clinic—that's what Zhu Shen said.

Lille honestly lay on the operating table for a full-body examination.

The doctor overseeing the examination had implanted eyes but used prosthetics for both arms, working with the operating table.

Relatively speaking, he was a normal prosthetic doctor—after all, in the Rust Belt, a decent public image was mainstream for corporations.

"Hmm... your condition..." The doctor eyed the report that only he could see, hesitating.

"What's wrong?" Lille opened his eyes, the effects of the anesthetic not fully worn off yet.

"How old are you?"

"I should be... 18, what's the issue?" Lille asked curiously, then added, "How about you?"

"Me... 62 years old."

Lille was shocked, as the doctor looked at most to be in his thirties, so he blurted out, "That old?"

"Indeed very old." The doctor glanced at Lille, then changed the subject, "But you'll die before me."

After saying this, the doctor handed Lille a tablet displaying the examination results.

"All of your organs are failing. It's not as bad if you don't use prosthetics. If you do use them, the process can be accelerated even further.

The most critical issue is that your cells are radioactive, which affects precision implants, greatly increasing the failure rate, meaning you can only use the most advanced of the second-generation implants. Say goodbye to generic brands.

Somewhat more urgently—your eyes will probably be blind soon. Do you feel a dark halo at the edge of your field of vision, blurred vision, double images, small floaters in your vision?"

Lastly, and what's even more critical that you should worry about—because if it's just this, you could still live for another four or five years—

is the declining activity of your spinal cord gray matter. In other words, you're about to become paralyzed, which could happen rather quickly, maybe in a month or two.

The solution... implant a neural implant to reinforce the central nervous system. However, as I mentioned before, this will shorten your lifespan."

The doctor wasn't blind; he could see that Lille was a jobless street bum.

For these street bums, being paralyzed was as good as being dead—of course, in a way, his body's incompatibility with implants was a death sentence too.

"This is the first time I've seen such a contradiction in someone's body.

Honestly, your brain has many folds, an unusually large surface area, and the brain's electrical signals are very active.

But your body, your cells, they are completely unsuited for implants. Any implanted device will shorten your life.

Otherwise, you might have been able to... work in network security."

In the year 2077, everyone needs prosthetics, even hackers—only by greatly exploiting the brain's potential can one better manage various real-life situations.

Without prosthetics, being an ordinary citizen is the only choice, though unfortunately, it's difficult to live long.

[Complete a full body checkup and read the report to gain Technology Points.]

[Note: Technology Points can be used to assist in deciphering technology or carrying items.]

But having gone through something as extraordinary as being transported to this system-equipped world, Lille planned to solve his problems his own way.