Night City is a place where dark undercurrents constantly surge, hidden beneath the frequent and intense gunfights of daily life.
But in truth, ever since the Unification War ended seven years ago — when Arasaka's carrier docked and military tech dictated a ceasefire — no truly major event had occurred.
Outside of Night City as well, corporations had basically refrained from sustained high-intensity conflict — no real wars worth the name.
So, overall, these last few years of the cyberpunk world could almost be called "peaceful."
Meanwhile, in the Marvel world, at least in most major cities of the leading nations, life was also fairly calm—
Yet, in contrast, on a global scale wars still raged, with large organizations and even countries involved in nearly every one.
In fact, not long after World War II ended, more wars had already broken out.
"Peace has always been a lie. If you want peace, you must wage war."
So declared a certain congressman on TV, flaunting his supposed brilliance before the assembly.
"Now we still have Captain Carter. Perhaps she can rebuild the Howling Commandos and strike back at those terrorists head-on.
Of course, I doubt Secretary Barnes still has the strength to handle such things.
What he needs are new young men. These young men could be Stark Industries' next-generation soldiers.
These unmanned combat robots require only power and steel, yet can bring us victory after victory. All we have to do is sit at home, sip tea, and watch whatever fun new drama is trending on our phones."
The scene quickly cut to a military transport ship.
The steel soldiers shown on screen were slightly different from the mech Frank had fought. They were smaller, still mounted with treads, but now with reinforced joints that gave them the option of walking upright.
It was obvious Tony's vision was to make the mechs more human-like, adaptable to more situations on the battlefield.
"The MK-5 Iron Soldier. These iron troops will be the next generation of American soldiers. Nobody will have to step onto the battlefield anymore — just do your own job, still get paid. All it takes is electing, in the next presidential race, a president with vision. A president with resolve."
"You mean one who will lead us into war?"
"I mean one who will revitalize our economy — and in the process liberate those suffering in war.
You know full well how many conflicts are raging outside America. These terrorists even dare attack us. This is no longer ordinary terrorism — we must strike back hard."
"And about the presidential election—"
"Just don't be like New Yorkers, who chose a political nobody as mayor. Before this, he was just a dockhand! I even heard his dream was to be a singer.
My God, New Yorkers actually elected a failed stand-up comic-turned-mover as their mayor. I really don't understand what meaning there is in electing a loser."
The program shifted to discuss the presidential race—
The New York mayoral election had ended. The seat naturally fell to Anthony.
Yes, the same Anthony who had been Leo's neighbor at the start — once an unemployed dockworker, with a young daughter to raise.
On stage, Anthony pointed at the congressman on TV and shrugged to the crowd:
"Looks like this guy is fond of feudal inheritance law. If I were his voter, I'd be wondering just how many sons and daughters he has, because if there are too many, he'll definitely find ways to give them inherited public offices. That's what 'political dynasties' do, right?"
At "political dynasty," he even raised his hands and wiggled his fingers.
"Back to New York City Hall plans to include medical blood supplies under insurance in the next four years, ensuring that whenever anyone faces an emergency, blood will always be available.
You may worry that insurance premiums will rise. The answer is: no.
New York City will sign a deep cooperation deal with International GeneCo to purchase certain drugs and blood products below market price.
The detailed list will be announced online once confirmed, and pushed straight to your phones.
In just the past three months, in New York alone, it's estimated that over fifty thousand people have already benefited from these new medicines.
In the future, more people will enjoy better medical services at an affordable cost."
"Hey! Anthony!" someone in the crowd shouted — a redneck in a white coat, who looked like he'd come all the way from rural New York. "But I heard you're doing this healthcare stuff because you're a communist. Are you?
Are you gonna make us hand over our wives and kids, and then thank you for it?"
"…What the hell?" Anthony froze.
Even after all his time canvassing votes and meeting every kind of person, he had never gotten a question like this.
That was the downside of being a political rookie: the more people you meet, the more of humanity's "variety" you encounter.
He had to learn to react fast, but as an immigrant, even though he now had proper citizenship and residency, questions like this were just too alien to him.
This was the kind of nonsense only old-school Americans could come up with.
Leo sighed and sent Anthony a quick crisis-management script.
Since Anthony was in Leo's circle, he had also gotten a cybermod implant.
International GeneCo hadn't developed cybernetic eyes yet, so the text appeared in his glasses instead.
Anthony smiled tactically, took a sip of water to buy time, and organized his words smoothly, covering up his moment of blankness.
"First, I'm not doing this for some ideology, but so that everyone can enjoy better healthcare—
Just last week at the docks, a mover's arm was crushed under a collapsing crate. He bled heavily. A year ago, all he could've done was lie in a hospital bed, praying for compatible blood.
And even if there was blood, when he woke up, he'd be staring down crippling medical bills. I'm sure you've all heard too many stories of families bankrupted by hospital costs."
"Yeah," the redneck nodded. "And if he had no money, the hospital wouldn't even give him a transfusion!"
"Exactly!" Anthony seized on it. "In reality, when they saw he was just a worker, his life was already pushed to the bottom of the priority list!
And even if he survived, he'd be crippled, unable to work, doomed to life as a beggar.
But guess what? The very next afternoon, he was discharged. And he even walked out with a basic prosthetic limb under coverage."
"The same kind the governor has?"
"Come on, man — you think they'd give a dockhand the governor's model?"
The redneck nodded. Fair enough. Very fair.
And though he looked down on city laborers — especially immigrants — back in the countryside, losing a finger or a limb in accidents wasn't rare.
Industry and agriculture were full of maimings. And despite his disdain for city folk, shared experience naturally drew him in.
Anthony continued: "It was only a basic model, but enough for lifting and daily life.
And if we're optimistic, International GeneCo and Atlas Group are working on industrial robots. With his implant, maybe that guy can become an operator —
Like how people used to drive tractors."
"Shit," the redneck swore suddenly. "That's just like my old man!"
God knows how his father managed such a career upgrade while disabled.
Anthony kept smiling: "Lastly, you asked if I'd expect you to thank City Hall. Seriously, who would be dumb enough to pay officials to run your life and then be grateful to them on top of it?
If I were you, I'd thank the scientists who invented the tech, the engineers, managers, and workers who kept the factories running overtime, and the volunteers who donated blood and marrow before the tech was even mature.
Me and the rest of the City Hall staff? We just did our jobs: making sure that everyone in this chain of citizens can live better, solve their problems, and step toward a brighter tomorrow.
Finally, every Saturday at 6 PM, I'll host a live mayor's hotline to personally answer the most pressing public concerns.
So get your TVs, radios, or phones ready. Remember to log into Bloom's online platform."