Cyberpunk - The Fall of Icarus

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Alex Mitchell (Volkov) POV

August 28, 2066

"What's that you're wearing?" Kiwi's voice carried an undeniable note of curiosity as her gaze lingered on me.

"You mean these bracers?" I turned to face her, a faint smirk tugging at my lips.

"So, they're not part of your future exosuit…" she murmured thoughtfully, her blue eyes studying my latest invention with an intensity that made me chuckle.

"Well…" I glanced down at my hands, flexing my fingers to test the gloves' fit and comfort. "Eventually, they'll be part of something bigger. For now, I'm focusing on compact mechanisms — gear that's easy to carry and deploy without a hassle."

With a mental command, the gloves retracted into sleek bracers, the transformation seamless and efficient.

"They look sturdy," Kiwi said, her fingers lightly tracing the sections where the mechanical components had disappeared.

"Eight hundred units of specialized armor density," I replied, a note of pride creeping into my voice. "Plus, a segmented shield capable of holding for a few minutes on internal power reserves." Striking a deliberately theatrical pose, I added, "Quite the marvel, if I do say so myself."

Kiwi chuckled, covering her mouth as if trying to suppress her amusement. "After all these years, you really haven't changed."

"Consistency is a virtue," I quipped, raising a finger like I was delivering some profound wisdom. It didn't take long for both of us to dissolve into laughter.

"Alec, Kiwi, how do I look?" Vega's voice drew our attention to the doorway. She stood there, her eyes bright with curiosity, watching us in the middle of our little moment of domestic chaos.

"Hm…" I circled Vega slowly, inspecting her outfit as though I were critiquing an art piece. She froze under my scrutinizing gaze, holding still like a statue. "It's very reminiscent of the casual outfits Kiwi used to wear back when we were with the nomads, but it suits you."

Vega was dressed in a loose black t-shirt, light blue jeans, and black sneakers, with a small backpack slung over her shoulder to complete the look.

"Dad, Mom, we're ready!" Lucy and Roxy called out as they emerged from Lucy's room.

"Well, if everyone's good to go, let's head down. The cab's already waiting." I grabbed my pistol from the table, holstering it securely at my side. In this city, going out unarmed wasn't an option — not unless you had a death wish.

"Dad, what's that on your back?" Roxy asked, pointing curiously at the compact container slung over my shoulders.

"A Sandesvistan, in its folded state. It activates with a mental command." I demonstrated, and within seconds, the device unfolded, shifting into full combat readiness.

"It's like we're preparing for war, not a day out," Lucy muttered, rolling her eyes but sneaking a glance at the device all the same.

"Oh, you little troublemaker," I said, ruffling her white hair playfully.

"Don't mess up my hair!" she protested, quickly smoothing it back into place.

"Now I get why Susan used to say that. There's definitely something to it," I chuckled, thoroughly enjoying her mock indignation.

With that, our lively group headed down to the parking lot, where the cab was already waiting. Since we were a larger-than-average party, I'd had to book a bigger vehicle, which added to the cost. Thankfully, owning a solid chunk of company shares came with perks, like access to steep discounts.

"Welcome to Delamain Service. Please insert your personal port into the designated slot to confirm your identity," the cab's AI greeted us as we approached.

On the screen embedded in the back of the seat in front of me, the image of a bald, broad-shouldered man with strikingly blue-painted lips flickered to life. His calm, measured voice was unmistakably synthetic, yet it carried an oddly personable tone.

"Charge the fare to my corporate savings deposit," I instructed, connecting my port to the slot beside me.

"Identity confirmed. Welcome, Alex Mitchell. Status: Excelsior." A notification popped up on my tactical lenses, confirming the payment, followed by another message detailing the deduction.

"Before we begin the journey, would the client like to adjust the route?" the AI inquired, professional and efficient, as the pre-planned path appeared on the screen.

"No changes. Stick to the planned path," I replied, leaning back into the plush seat and briefly closing my eyes, savoring the moment of quiet comfort.

It was almost comical when I thought about it — an artificial intelligence not just managing but outright owning an entire company. Normally, such a scenario would trigger immediate scrutiny from law enforcement, branding the AI as a rogue entity and shutting it down. Yet Delamain's services were so reliable, so seamlessly integrated into Night City's fabric, that his existence was met with an almost shocking level of acceptance. In fact, he'd earned a unique status of near-untouchability in the city. Of course, one significant misstep, and that status could vanish overnight, leading to a swift and brutal shutdown.

"What's Excelsior?" Roxy asked, tugging lightly at my sleeve to grab my attention.

"The Excelsior package includes all standard services plus comprehensive medical insurance, active medical scanning of passengers, combat mode, and complimentary body disposal in the event of the client's death," the AI recited promptly, its voice as steady as ever.

"Well, that last part about death and body disposal was completely unnecessary," I muttered, shaking my head. I glanced over at Vega, seated serenely beside me, completely unbothered by the grim practicality of the explanation.

"It's pricey," I added, turning back to Roxy, "but the fee is a one-time purchase, and the status lasts for your entire lifetime."

"Got it…" she murmured, her gray eyes narrowing slightly as she processed the information.

There was something oddly comforting about Delamain. Unlike most artificial intelligences, he didn't inspire that familiar unease humans often felt around them. I couldn't quite put my finger on why. Maybe it was his manner — calm, focused, and professional, like someone simply doing their job without overstepping their boundaries.

For all his precision and efficiency, Delamain felt strangely… human.

***

"Thank you for choosing Delamain Transportation Services. I wish you a pleasant day," the AI chimed as the car doors swung open, signaling our arrival.

"Alright, grab your things and let's move," I announced with a grin, stepping out and taking my "backpack" from Vega's hands.

"So, where should we go first?" I asked, crouching slightly to address the girls.

"I don't care," Lucy shrugged, her nonchalant response expertly passing the burden of decision-making onto Roxy.

Little schemer, I thought with a smirk, watching her feigned indifference.

"We could visit the central city park," Roxy suggested hesitantly. "I think they recently opened a bunch of new attractions there."

"Sounds like a good choice," Kiwi agreed with a nod.

"Alright then, looks like we'll be walking a bit," I said, pulling up the route on my tactical lenses and leading the way.

The walk to the park turned out to be more engaging than expected. Along the way, we passed countless shops and entertainment venues, their gaudy signs and holograms competing aggressively for attention. Advertisements in Night City's downtown were relentless, saturating the streets with flashing billboards promoting every imaginable product — and occasionally things far less appropriate for public display. Hearing an 18+ ad blaring in the middle of the day made me resist the urge to facepalm.

Still, we managed to enjoy the stroll, eventually finding a pair of benches shaded by a large tree that stood slightly apart from the busier areas. It was a small oasis of calm amidst the city's chaos — a much-needed respite.

"You know," Kiwi said, cradling Lucy on her lap, "sometimes it feels like the people here are just lifeless dolls." She shook her head, her gaze sweeping over the hurried, expressionless faces streaming past us.

"They live for their work," I replied with a shrug, glancing at the endless flow of passersby. "People here aspire to become corporates — or as they like to call themselves, the 'cream of society.' If you think about it, this city doesn't really have a middle class. It's split into distinct tiers. You've got the service sector, catering to clients at various levels, and then you've got the movers and shakers — scientists, inventors, media figures shaping public opinion, and the like.

"The world's been running on rails of total automation for so long that these gaps have only widened. Simply put, you can clearly see the top and the bottom, but the middle is so blurred it barely exists. People in that middle tier can belong to either caste, depending on the context."

"That sounds... complicated," Kiwi sighed, shaking her head softly.

"Maybe," I replied, ruffling Roxy's hair gently, "but that's the best way I can explain it."

"So that puts us somewhere in the middle," Roxy said, tilting her head as her curious gray eyes met mine.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," I said with a satisfied grin, acknowledging her spot-on observation.

"Each tier has its own undeniable advantages and drawbacks," Vega chimed in, pulling up a holographic chart she'd constructed. "The lower tiers benefit from anonymity, while the upper tiers have access to vast resources. The former lacks the privileges of the latter, and vice versa."

"Yeah, being in the middle does seem pretty convenient," Lucy added, nodding along as though she'd just solved a puzzle.

"Alright," I said, clapping my hands to recapture everyone's attention, "these heavy thoughts are starting to wear me out. What do you say we find somewhere to grab a bite?"

"On the way here, I noticed a little Chinese restaurant," Kiwi suggested, efficiently sending the coordinates to my tactical display. "How about that?"

"'A Thousand Miles'... Huh, sounds promising," I mused, skimming through the reviews. "Alright, who's in?"

"I'll go with whatever you decide," Vega said with her usual calm neutrality.

"I've always wanted to try super spicy dishes!" Kiwi exclaimed, her eyes lighting up the moment I turned toward her.

"And you two little troublemakers?" I asked, casting a playful glance at the girls.

"Not against it," Lucy replied, waving her hand dismissively before sneaking a cheeky pinch at Roxy's arm.

"Same here," Roxy muttered, immediately retaliating with a pinch of her own.

"Then let's move before I lose my appetite," I said with a chuckle, booking a table as we walked. I picked a quiet, cozy spot tucked away at the back of the restaurant — a perfect fit for our group.