cyberpunk: Travel to 2075

James Norris

After the meal, Oliver watched David walk away happily, his steps light, and asked Karl, "Although you said that as long as he doesn't keep the money for himself, it will be his, aren't you worried that he might run off with it?"

"Ten thousand euros isn't a large sum for us now. If he's honest, giving it to him is like an investment. But if he decides to keep it for himself and run..." Karl paused, recalling the taste of the delicious juice from the luxury restaurant. "We can find him and give him the money—or we can get rid of him."

"That's true," Oliver said, folding his hands and watching David's retreating figure. "But I have a feeling he'll do well. Maybe it's because he's also from Santo Domingo. Does it make me biased towards my hometown?"

"Come on, you're not even allowed to go back to your homeland, right? Night City people are strange. None of you identify as Night City natives—you just refer to your neighborhood as your origin. Jack's from Heywood, and you're from Santo Domingo. The distinctions are clear."

"In this city, if we don't differentiate by neighborhood, how else can we?" Oliver asked.

Jack approached with the bill he had requested from the restaurant. "A 1,200-euro meal, enough to buy one-tenth of a pig. That kid looks thin, but I didn't expect him to eat so much."

"That's how it is when you're growing," Karl replied, knowing the cost of the meal. It was indeed luxurious. Apart from their table, the other guests were either corporate management or top gang members.

"Let's go back..." Karl began, but was interrupted by a message on his personal terminal from Blanca.

Blanca: Are you interested in more private work?

Hmm? Karl was intrigued but slightly overwhelmed. He still hadn't completed the first two tasks from Blanca. Could she be the receptionist of some mission center?

Karl: I'm still working on the tasks you gave me, but they're not particularly urgent. I have some free time. What do you need? Short-term tasks are fine. Long-term ones, not so much.

Karl reflected that he had received more commissions from Blanca than from other intermediaries. But Blanca's tasks were better—simpler, well-paid, and much more straightforward than those from the stingy middleman, Faraday.

Blanca: It's a short-term mission. A retired lieutenant from the New United States Armed Forces, James Norris, recently arrived in Night City. He's from our military tech division. He was supposed to assist our company with some 'small matters' but suddenly turned on us, shooting his liaison staff yesterday and fleeing to the city center...

Karl noticed Blanca's abrupt pause in her message.

Karl: So, you want us to handle this traitor with rebellious behavior?

Blanca: No, I want you to monitor him to understand why he did it. If possible, communicate with him and bring him back for the mission.

Karl smirked at the corporate pragmatism. The life of the liaison was dispensable, but Norris still had value.

Karl: And if he refuses to cooperate?

Blanca: Then eliminate him and report it as cyber psychosis.

Karl: Just kill him without negotiation? Simple enough.

Blanca: Exactly.

Karl appreciated the straightforward nature of Blanca's commissions.

Karl: He's in the city center, right? I can start the search now. Do you have detailed information? Also, what about the payment?

Blanca: He has a military-grade countermeasure chip, but there's no specific information on his location. As compensation for the lack of intel, I'll add to the reward. How does 150,000 euros sound?

Karl raised an eyebrow. It was rare for a corporate entity to pay extra for missing information.

Karl: That's generous, unlike the typical corporate behavior I know.

Blanca: Huh? You're saying that openly now? I thought you'd cover it up a bit.

Karl: It's a cover-up. To be honest, you're paying more because you probably don't want me to handle this lieutenant gently.

Blanca: You're sharp. Wouldn't you consider working for me full-time? I need capable people like you.

Karl: Cut the crap. If you have something to say, say it. I don't know anyone well enough to care.

Karl knew Blanca's amiable tone was because he was beneficial to her. If he weren't, his fate would be no better than the dead liaison or James Norris, who refused to cooperate.

Blanca, unfazed by Karl's bluntness, continued.

Blanca: Okay, to be clear, James Norris is equipped with a military-grade sandevistan prosthetic, still in the experimental confidentiality stage. The project lead is someone connected to me. If Norris is confirmed as a cyberpsychopath, the experiment will be deemed a failure. The lead will face execution for wasting company resources, and I'll have my people take over the project.

Karl: Another corporate power struggle. I should get used to this.

Blanca: That's corporate life. If even someone like Norris becomes a cyberpsychopath due to the prosthetic, it proves the tech isn't viable for ordinary people. The experiment would have no value. Just confirm his condition; I'm not asking you to recover the prosthetic. But if you want it, remember to remove the military monitoring equipment before using it.

Karl: I don't make a habit of using others' prosthetics. The rejection rate is too high. I'll take the job. Send me the details.

As Karl waited for the information, he relayed his conversation with Blanca to Jack and Oliver.

"A former lieutenant, James Norris. A target worth 150,000 euros."

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