Cyberpunk: Infinite Progress Begins with Arasaka

Africa—a magical and ancient land.

Mention it, and for reasons unknown, the impressions that immediately arise in people's minds tend to include words like primitive, chaotic, war-torn, starving, refugee-filled, beautiful scenery, abundant wildlife, economically underdeveloped, and so on.

But today, dun-dun—

2075/5/26, Cape Town, South Africa (UTC+2). In the early hours of the morning, Vela stepped off the airstair with a suitcase in hand and looked up.

"Good evening, Cape Town."

Seeing was believing. Whatever lingering stereotypes she had were now thoroughly broken. She hadn't seen a land of vibrant life and flourishing vitality—instead, beneath cold neon lights and massive advertising screens, she saw a forest built of steel, glass, and concrete.

Rather prosperous, actually.

Though that prosperity clearly didn't belong to the locals.

Gazing into the distance, there wasn't much greenery in the wilderness.

In the Cyberpunk world, even Africa—once famed for its preserved natural landscapes—seemed to have little nature left.

At the bottom of the airstair, Vela spotted a small squad of Arasaka security personnel, seemingly waiting just outside the fence, and a standard Rayfield Excalibur AV parked further off, on standby.

Before long, the security team's leader, holding a PDA, noticed her and immediately stepped forward, bowing slightly as he asked, "Are you Supervisor Russell?"

"I'm Vela Adelheid."

"As per protocol, please verify your SID chip."

Vela had no objection.

Beep! Scan complete. Identity confirmed.

Welcomed by the Cape Town Arasaka branch's security staff, Vela boarded the AV smoothly.

Car AI: [Welcome to Cape Town, Ms. Russell. We wish you a pleasant study tour.]

Since Vela had arrived via official channels between University of Tokyo and Arasaka, preparations had already been made before she even boarded her flight to South Africa. The Cape Town branch had arranged accommodation befitting her clearance level, transportation, a security detail, and provided all necessary travel documents—maps, local products, customs, and safety tips.

Inside the AV, Vela put down the internal-use data pad prepared by the Cape Town branch, along with a storage case containing detachable chips.

"Quite thorough."

Opening the chip storage case, she even spotted a Trauma Team beacon chip—Africa region.

Trauma Team, full name: Trauma Team International (TTI). Their services are regionally segmented.

Even for platinum members, prices vary by region.

After all, you can't expect them to charge the same rate in lawless zones as they do in peaceful, orderly regions. They're a private company, driven by profit maximization—they wouldn't leave such loopholes open.

Beep.

Trauma Team: [Ms. Russell, thank you again for your continued trust in Trauma Team. In the South and Central Africa regions, we have 53 medical service centers. Based on your current coordinates—Cape Town International Airport—should there be a need, the nearest rapid-response rescue unit will arrive within approximately 2 minutes and 26 seconds. We remain committed to serving you...]

While the beacon was being identified, Vela also disabled the block on her internal biochip, transferring her subscribed Trauma Team platinum service from Tokyo Metropolis to Central-Southern Africa.

As a senior commander in Arasaka's Security Division, Vela would never allow her coordinates to be constantly monitored by Trauma Team, no matter how highly regarded they were among all corporations.

In most situations, corporate dogs keep their beacons shielded. Only in emergencies—when biological health data shows abnormalities—does the system automatically disable the block, per protocol. It can also be manually disengaged.

If it were a black ops mission, exceptions would apply and specific instructions would be issued.

Besides, Vela's original subscription region—Night City, North America—was already one of the world's worst-rated zones for public safety. No need to pay extra.

Cape Town's public security was far better than Night City's.

Bzzzz... bzzzz...

Removing her smart-tinted sunglasses, Vela rested her chin on her hand, observing this unfamiliar city through the AV's smart-glass window.

Everywhere she looked, the skyline was dominated by towering skyscrapers.

In terms of overall urban planning, while it couldn't compare to Tokyo, it was far more orderly than Night City.

The city center was a bit small, and though the buildings' quality, density, and height weren't exactly impressive, they were easy on the eyes.

Such was the benefit of fewer megacorps taking root.

Take Night City, for example—virtually every global megacorp had a dedicated branch or even a headquarters tower there.

Sure, the influx of capital brought financial prosperity and high-rises everywhere, with new facilities constantly springing up. But the tangled web of competing powers also turned it into an uncontrollable mess, where any hope of improving public safety was laughable.

If Night City was a chaotic battlefield of rival factions, and Tokyo was a lone hegemon with every Japanese company bowing in allegiance, then Cape Town was a supermajor among weaklings.

Arasaka held the dominant position, but other corporations could still grab some scraps.

Because there were so few competing megacorps here—or because local forces were too weak—they had little choice but to follow the conventions set by Arasaka. From this city, Vela sensed a rare atmosphere of fair competition—and far fewer ridiculous gang wars.

Almost like a normal city.

High-tech, prosperous, and with good public order—Africa?

Cough, what a surreal experience.

Come to think of it, outside of a certain otherworldly perspective, she had never really been to Africa.

Arasaka's North America HQ oversaw the U.S. West Coast and the Eastern Pacific. Her farthest field mission to date had been a bodyguard service assignment in the South Asian subcontinent. Everything else had been limited to the Americas, Australia, and the Japanese archipelago.

Vela felt oddly amused.

On one hand, there was Africa in the Resident Evil timeline—specifically in 1998—a place that had nothing to do with prosperity. Her other self had traveled to West Africa and reorganized Umbrella's African Research Center, truly experiencing the "pure" local customs, absurd insect infestations, and yes, even zebras and lions baring their teeth by the roadside.

Here, she looked around after disembarking—didn't even see a single mosquito.

From the sky, streets looked orderly, locals well-behaved. Facing Arasaka security forces—who had signed a police contract with the municipal government and now handled Cape Town's law enforcement—everyone acted like quail.

Before long, the AV pulled into the rooftop helipad of a luxury high-rise hotel not far from Cape Town's City Center. Click! The car door opened, and the AI courteously offered its closing message.

"Welcome to Cape Town, Ms. Vela Adelheid Russell."

Waiting on the helipad was a greeter wearing a silver mask, who bowed deeply. "Your room is ready—Lapis Suite, 36th floor."

"Mm. Lead the way, I need to freshen up and rest."

Walking over the silky, warm red carpet, Vela naturally handed off her suitcase and signaled the greeter to proceed.

Through the elevator, across lavish halls, past doors adorned with plant displays and ambient lighting, down softly lit corridors decorated in warm gold—under the polite guidance of trained, smiling staff—Vela arrived at her suite without a hitch.

"Wishing you a pleasant study tour in Cape Town, Ms. Russell."

"Thank you."

With the corner of her eye, she glanced at the corridor's end, where a few "guests" seemed to be conversing. Vela ignored them, lips curving with an ambiguous smile as she took her suitcase and stepped inside.

Quite a bit of attention, huh.

Vela thought silently.

What she couldn't yet determine was whether this surveillance was part of a final assessment for a potential promotion—testing her loyalty to Arasaka and checking for any signs of collusion—or whether it stemmed from her submitted Sonnentreppe Project, having attracted someone's protection.

Perhaps both.

Vela hoped it was both.

She hoped they'd remain this diligent when accompanying her deeper into the African interior tomorrow.

With thoughts of wringing a few extra bodyguards, Vela shifted her attention to the place she might be calling home for the next half-month.

A standard executive suite.

Expansive one-way polarized floor-to-ceiling windows, elegant solid black marble panels, silk wall hangings in a cool color palette, and a receiving area with a set of brand-new clothes—from formal corporate suits to travel-friendly casualwear.

Clearly, the Cape Town side had experience with VIPs. They had done their homework. The wardrobe fit her perfectly, matching her style. She wasn't the first.

Ever since education became increasingly extreme in the last century, students from top universities had only gained more prestige. Cases like Vela—high-level corporate executives pursuing advanced studies—were hardly rare.

Not dwelling on that thought, Vela finished inspecting the room, then stepped into the washroom. After a quick shower, she changed into a clean robe.

Beep—

"This is Vela Adelheid, Security Division, Night City. I'm a study-tour participant from University of Tokyo. Yes, I have a project that will likely require travel deep into southern and even central Africa. I need two rapid-response teams..."

Vela called Cape Town's security department directly—getting straight to the point.

"Mm... thank you, but no need to go overboard. Let's keep public and private expenses separate. Bill me under personal subscription... No, no—it's fine. Funding comes from University of Tokyo and Danger Gal... Yes, thank you."

With her entourage sorted for tomorrow, Vela hung up and flopped onto the bed.

Having strong backing really did simplify things.

Even though she insisted on separating public and private matters, she had no doubt the Cape Town branch would still treat her to internal discounts and favors.

Power—

It really was one of the most captivating, mysterious forces in the world.

Legendary mercs? Cyberpunks? Let someone else play that part.

With a light smile, Vela closed her eyes. She had made her move. Now she was curious—how many agents would be embedded in those two rapid-response teams?

Tomorrow morning: an expedition to explore ancient Bantu tribal ruins.

Clunk.

Lights out.

...

Lower floors of the hotel.

In a shared bunk room occupied by another group of newly arrived "travelers," a long table was cluttered with files and devices. Plainclothes agents—disguised as tourists—were hunched over laptops, replaying surveillance footage of Vela's entire journey from airport arrival to hotel check-in. Signal monitoring and communications frequency scanners were already active.

"Report—this is 'Hotel One.' Local time: early morning. Target has successfully arrived in Cape Town and checked into the hotel. Currently asleep. All systems normal. No anomalies in frequency. Cybersecurity team has detected no irregular data transmissions."

"...Wait, new intel—target just contacted Cape Town's Security Department and requested two rapid-response units..."

"Infiltrate them? Yes! Understood."

Elsewhere, across the ocean—in Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo, within the Arasaka estate—Yorinobu Arasaka fitted his voice modulator, face grim as he picked up a secure, IP-masked terminal.

"Did the information get out? She's already in Africa. After reading her file and past performance, do they still think it's impossible?"

"Just ask them—if the new drug succeeds, the temporary rejuvenation treatment with no immediate drug resistance means Saburo gets to extend his life again. Is that something they really want to see happen? I'm running out of time—every possible threat must be eliminated."

...

The next morning, 10:00 AM.

Vela took a bite of a hot dog, savoring the mix of wheat bun aroma, savory animal fat, and the kick of spice—a simple but satisfying breakfast. Dressed for travel, sunglasses and sand scarf on, suitcase in hand, she looked every bit the sheltered heiress off on an adventure as she casually boarded the AV and left the hotel.

They passed over Table Mountain, heading toward Cape Town's northern edge.

Bzzzz... bzzzz...

AI: [Supervisor Russell, we've arrived at the northern suburban border checkpoint of Cape Town.]

Click.

The door opened. Heat. Dryness. That was Vela's first and strongest impression as she stepped out.

The wave of hot air hit her face—the wind of the African scrublands, rough and dry, carrying sand particles.

"This environment really is harsh."

Beyond the checkpoint, what lay before Vela were sparse cacti and a few hardy shrubs. Not a single snarling African beast in sight. The forests and wetlands of the past were long gone—just a lifeless expanse of silence, emptiness, and desolation.

All of it man-made.

With no urban skyline or Table Mountain obstructing the view, she could see the horizon line marking the city's edge and, further beyond toward the Atlantic, a massive industrial park.

Resource extraction ran rampant. The pollution was horrifying. Rows of factories, chimneys belching smoke—twisting black tornadoes of smog turning the sky into a swirling, chaotic mess.

"Supervisor Russell."

A long-waiting Arasaka rapid-response unit commander approached and bowed. The unit consisted of Chevillon Emperor 620 Ragnar and Militech Behemoth armored transports.

Vela gave a slight nod. No sentimentalism. Just a glance.

"Move out!" she commanded with a wave.

The Arasaka-version Sonnentreppe Project was still her true priority.